Chapter Text
DECEMBER 2021
Sansa lets out a tired sigh once she’s settled at the back of her SUV. Her whole body is aching with over-exertion, her throat sore from singing, her ears still ringing from the screaming crowd.
Only her mind seems unable to get with the program; usually, at this time after a show, she’s either still buzzing with the thrill of performing in front of thousands of people or reeling from the energy crash. Instead, all she can focus on is the thorn of worry in her chest.
It’s been six weeks since she broke things off with Joffrey. Five since he finally understood that she was serious and started harassing her with endless texts and calls, once even trying to get to her after one of her shows. Three weeks since she gave Shae the go signal to go public with the break-up. One since Joffrey completely stopped bothering her.
It should be a relief, his silence. Maybe he finally got the message, finally accepted that she’s really done. She wants to take it as a sign that he’s ready to move on, ready to let her go.
It sets her on edge, though. She knows Joff well enough to understand he doesn’t like losing to anyone, least of all to her. He has taken her breaking things off with him as an insult, as if she has no right to want to be rid of him, so she knows he’s dying to get even.
Part of her had wanted to wait for him to get bored of her and set her aside. She knows he’s been seeing someone else in secret. An up-and-coming actress backed by a rich family.
It was only a matter of time before he finally got bored of Sansa. Maybe in a few more months, he would have initiated the break up himself. But her tour was almost over and she couldn’t wait anymore. She couldn’t stomach the idea of coming home to him, of giving him the chance to tear her down after what has been the best few months of her career. So she made the call despite how much of a bad idea it was and hoped he’d be too distracted with his new girl to care.
Maybe that’s what’s happening, she considers. Perhaps his anger has deflated enough, maybe his girl has tempered his fragile ego, maybe he let it go. She wrinkles her nose at the thought. It sounds nothing like the Joffrey she knows.
There’s nothing to be done about it now, regardless. Well, nothing other than obsessively trying to predict whatever kind of retaliation he might attempt.
She sighs, leaning back against the headrest. Unfortunately, all she can do is wait and find out.
“Everything okay?” Brienne, her manager of less than a year asks, turning sideways to look at her.
Sansa’s instinct is to lie, to deny any issue, because trust no longer comes easy to her. But while there’s still some part of her that worries Brienne will one day betray her for whatever benefit there is to gain in doing so, she can recognize that such fears have thus far been unfounded.
Brienne has been nothing short of an angel over the last eight months. She’d single-handedly helped Sansa with the legal issues against her old management, led the process of renegotiating faulty contracts, and helped sort her finances out after finding out Petyr’s sketchy schemes. Brienne has basically been championing her these last few months, making sure she’s in a better position than she had been before.
Brienne’s a friend, a trusted one, so Sansa takes a deep breath and lets herself be honest. “I’m worried this whole Joffrey thing will spiral out of control,” she admits. “It turns out I like it less when he’s not being openly hostile.”
She tilts her head a little, sees Brienne’s face harden as she nods. “He’s unpredictable. He might become a bigger problem but we’ll deal with whatever he throws our way, don’t worry.”
It’s not necessarily comforting to hear, especially not about a person she once thought she was in love with, but she’ll always appreciate Brienne’s honesty.
They reach the hotel soon enough and she’s whisked up to the hotel room where her team has set up for her post-show recovery regimen. With how physical her shows are, it’s a relief to get her sore muscles immediately attended to, so she forces her brain to silence as her team tries to return her to pristine condition.
After, she heads to her room so she can rest. She’s tired enough that she should’ve fallen asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow, her body is definitely begging her to, but her mind is too restless for her to be able to.
She groans in annoyance, fluffing her pillow against the headboard so she can sit. She turns on the television and casts her phone onto it, her fingers flying to youtube so she can pull up Jon Snow’s latest stream.
She usually prefers watching her brother’s livestreams. It’s her way of keeping herself on the loop even though she and Robb don’t always talk. Plus, his ridiculous antics never fail to make her laugh. But he’s been on a break, a decision he made after a rough break-up with his longterm girlfriend, Jeyne Westerling. So it’s been a while since he streamed.
She settles back on the bed as Jon’s livestream loads on the TV. His stream title indicates it’s a charity stream, so she’s not surprised at how serious he starts off.
Sometimes his streams are more loose, relaxed. He would play games or chat with his audience or do whatever random trend he gets roped into doing. That’s not often, though. With his background in environmental law, he’s usually laser-focused on teaching the world how to take care of the environment or spreading the word about whatever cause he’s currently championing.
She can’t help but smile a little; watching him reminds her of how he was as a kid, maybe about nine or ten, always so serious even then. She remembers that he was always armed with information about whichever new creature he found out was at risk of extinction, or about some piece of land the world needed to protect.
He used to always make her cry when he did his impassioned spiels about it. And he’d always just give her a grim nod, then will attempt to make her feel better by listing ways she can help mother nature heal.
It’s about thirty minutes into his stream when she starts to drift off to sleep. She doesn’t mean to but Jon’s got a soothing voice; his tone low, his northern accent rough and deep and achingly familiar, as he talks about a project he’s doing up in Frostfangs.
When she wakes up, it's to a dead phone and loud knocking on her door. She winces, sliding off the bed quickly to get to the door. She’s so familiar with Mya’s knock that she doesn’t have to check before opening the door with an apology at the ready.
“I’m sorry, my phone died. I fell asleep watching something,” she rushes to say as Mya heads in.
“It’s fine, Sans. It’s literally part of my job to be your back-up alarm,” Mya assures with a hint of amusement. She hands her a coffee cup with a logo of a coffee shop she’s seen nearby. “Lemon tea.”
“Thanks.” Sansa accepts it with a yawn, then leaves it on the dining table before heading into the bathroom. “What time is it?”
“A little after ten,” Mya answers as she walks to the bedside and handles the task of charging Sansa’s phone.
Sansa freshens up and brushes her teeth. She takes her tea as well as the danish Mya got for her. After an hour, once security has cleared it, she heads to the hotel gym to do her usual routine. She only does a light workout on concert days, just to make sure her stamina is up and her limbs are ready for the heavier workout of performing on stage.
Once she’s back in her hotel room, she steams, does a sinus rinse, and then goes to shower. As she does, she gets started on her vocal exercises, doing her best to think about nothing but tonight’s performance.
It’s easier to keep her mind blank on show days. Much less after, once the screaming has died and all she has left are her thoughts.
***
They're on the drive to the stadium when her phone vibrates with a text. She feels herself freeze, dreading for it to be Joffrey again, renewing his torment of sending threatening texts from unknown numbers. Relief floods her when she finds that it’s only a message from Theon.
can’t wait to watch you tonight, sassypants, his text says. It's accompanied by a picture of a ticket for tonight’s show.
She didn’t know he was in town, but she’s glad to find out that he is. “Theon’s going to attend tonight,” she tells Mya as she types out a reply.
who are you with??? she asks, then adds, you could’ve told me. i’d have set it up for you.
nah, didn't want to mooch, he responds. im doing a vlog thing with these content creators from storm’s end. turns out they bought a vip box for your show tonight and they invited me along.
She forwards the picture of the ticket to Mya. “Can you make sure someone sends him one of our care packages?”
“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” Mya assures.
She sends another text to Theon saying she hopes he enjoys the show, tells him to text Mya if he needs anything, and to stop backstage if he has the time.
She hasn’t seen him in over a year, not since July last year when Jeyne Poole dragged her to King’s Landing for Asha’s birthday. Neither of them have been in the same place since and she mostly caught up with him through texts or by watching his vlogs.
Arya thinks he’s avoiding Winterfell. After how things went down last year, it’s probably for the best. But Sansa can sympathize; part of her is avoiding home, too.
***
Just like every night she’s performing, she lets everything else fade into the background as soon as she’s on stage. Over the next two hours, all she can remember is her setlist, her blockings, and performing the entire run of the show to perfection.
She’s exhausted by the end but she doesn’t feel it until she’s off the stage and heading back to her dressing room. Tonight, she finds Theon Greyjoy’s smirking face waiting for her inside.
“Hey Sassypants,” he greets, standing from the couch to reach for her.
“Oh my gods, you look so different,” she laughs, accepting his offer of a hug with wide eyes. “Sorry. I’m sweaty.”
She pulls back and ruffles his hair, cut short and obnoxiously blond. “I saw on instagram that you bleached your hair but it looks weirder in person.” She laughs after giving it another look. “Theon, you look like a fuckboy.”
He grins, patting his hair down. “It’s what I get for losing a bet against a Karstark.”
She shakes her head. She’s never gambled against a Karstark before, probably never would, considering their notoriety, and it’s insane to her that so many people still try. “Where are your friends?”
“Gone. I told them to go ahead. Didn’t really want them to know I knew you personally or else they might’ve asked for an impromptu meet and greet or some shit.”
She nods. “Do you have other plans tonight?”
“Nope. I thought I’d stick around, see if you could deal with a little annoyance. It’ll be eons before we see each other again, I bet,” he says, reaching to ruffle her hair. He makes a face as soon as it makes contact, making her laugh as she swats his hand away.
“I told you I’m sweaty, you idiot,” she teases. She looks to her team, then back at Theon. “You want to go hang out at my hotel and get drunk? I want to catch up.”
He raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you allowed to get drunk?”
She shrugs. “Last show of the week. I can get away with a little alcohol.”
When they get to the hotel, she has Mya take Theon up to her room while she heads for the recovery station. By the time she’s done, about an hour and a half later, she finds him munching on a gross amount of room service.
“Seven hells,” she gasps. “There’s no way you can finish all that.”
He swallows down the food in his mouth with a gulp of water. “Ordered some for you, too. You’re looking thin, Sassy. I can almost hear your mother’s voice nagging me to feed you.”
She rolls her eyes, though he’s not too far off. Her mother watches grainy livestreams of her shows on instagram. If she checks her phone, she’ll probably find texts from her mom reminding her to eat and take the food supplements she’d sent.
She sits on the free chair across from Theon, scans the collection of food and settles for the plate of lobster roll and fries.
Theon rises from his seat, heads to the mini bar section in her room. “What do you want?” he asks as he peruses the options.
“I’ll take the wine,” she answers as she tucks her feet under her.
She studies Theon quietly, his back turned to her. He seems a lot more subdued than he used to be, same as he was when they met up in King’s Landing. It’s a bit strange to notice the difference. The old Theon is known as the life of the party. Loud, hyper, and can be a bit too much. Now it seems that only exists as his online persona.
“So… how have you been?” she asks as she nibbles on a fry.
He turns to face her, her bottle of wine in one hand, and raises his brow at her. “We’re starting this now? You’re not even letting me get some alcohol in my system?”
“If you need alcohol for that question, then isn’t that answer enough?” she retorts.
He scoffs, grabbing the black-label brandy before making his way back to his seat. “Okay, well, how are you holding up with your big break-up then?”
She makes a face. “Point taken.”
Theon smirks in satisfaction. He opens her wine bottle with practiced ease, pours some down on an empty goblet, then turns his attention to his own bottle.
“Seriously, though. How are you holding up?” He asks, glancing at her. “I thought things were going well with Golden Boy. It sounded like it anyway. I was surprised to hear it ended.”
She wrinkles her nose at the nickname. Golden is a track from her latest album, the one she’d released last August. The lyrics are so sickly sweet and so obviously about Joffrey that it’s nauseating.
She didn’t even want to add it into the album, same with the two other songs she was forced to write about him. Her label - Joff’s mother - insisted. Said they were such a picture perfect couple that people would question it if she didn’t include songs dedicated to him.
At that point, their relationship had soured enough that Sansa didn’t want to, but she needed to get that fifth album out. It’s the last one Cersei had control over and she wasn’t taking no for an answer, so she relented.
Except she couldn't make herself lie in her songs. That’s why all the songs she’d written about Joffrey were so tooth-achingly sweet, it’s almost laughable. Cersei has always thought she was a silly girl who wrote silly little songs, so she got away with it. But her fans clocked the sarcasm in the songs immediately; had seen through the bubblegum melody, the overproduction, and read through the lines. Cersei had been less than happy when she realized she let Sansa release songs that were actually mocking her son.
“It hasn’t been going well for a year,” she admits quietly before grabbing her wine glass.
“You guys have only been going out for a year,” Theon points out with surprise.
“Two,” she corrects. “It only went well for maybe a quarter of it. The rest was…” She can’t even finish the thought, but she doesn’t have to because Theon seems able to fill in the blanks anyway, if his frown is anything to go by. “I liked him for so long I didn’t want to see him for what he was. And his mother ran my label. It all felt so complicated once I couldn’t ignore how he truly was.”
“Do we need to take care of this guy?” He asks with furrowed brows, like he’s some mafia boss who can fix Joffrey with just a snap of a finger.
It sounds so much like something Robb would ask that she can’t help but roll her eyes. “Not worth it,” she promises. “And don’t you have enough shit to deal with without trying to get involved with mine?”
He downs his glass of brandy. “Well, breaking your guy’s face honestly sounds more fun than dealing with any of my shit,” he points out.
Sansa chews on the inside of her cheek, debating whether to ask him how he’s doing for a second time. “You’re dealing with it, at least?” she asks instead.
She doesn’t know the whole story because she wasn’t present while it was happening. Honestly, she was so mentally drained dealing with Joff that she wrote off whatever was happening back home as insignificant.
It was only later, with bits and pieces from Arya, that she learned what happened. Apparently, Theon roped Robb into some sort of scam wrapped up as a start-up business venture that Theon’s dad wanted him to get involved with.
“You know how Theon is. He didn’t really think it through, just ate up whatever crumb of validation his dad threw at him and forgot how to use his brain,” Arya had scoffed then.
Robb had made plenty of money by then, all from competing in esports, sponsorships, and brand deals. Wanting to be a supportive friend, he’d invested a significant amount of his money into the venture, only for him to find out it was a scam.
Robb got mad at Theon, rightfully so, and it nearly ended their friendship. Without Robb, she heard Theon got in with the wrong crowd, fell even further from grace. It was his sister who helped him get his shit together and she’s glad to see him in a much better place now.
“I’ve dealt with some of it,” he assures. “Your brother and I are talking again, actually.”
“Yeah?” She asks with a slight smile. “That’s good to hear.”
“I mean… he hasn’t forgiven me, I don’t know if he will or if i’d even deserve it, but at least he’s hearing me out. I’m pretty sure Jon forced him into it, though. Probably couldn’t argue since Jon's been going through something worse than us.”
Sansa knows even less about that. All she knows is that something happened at the law firm Jon was working at that forced him to quit and that it was serious enough that dad had to step in and help. He wasn’t disbarred or anything, but he seems done practicing law. She knows it’s why he’s been streaming more over the last couple of months.
“How’s he doing, anyway? Jon?”
They're not really friends, her and Jon. Even though they grew up together, they had so little in common that they didn’t often interact. Unlike Theon, whose decade-long on-again-off-again relationship with her best friend, Jeyne, has made him a near constant presence in her life throughout the years.
“I don't really know. That guy doesn't really talk about his feelings. Least of all with me,” Theon answers. “It must suck, though, having to quit his job when that’s all he wanted to do. You remember how he was with that stuff, always talking about some important cause.”
Sansa hums in agreement. She may not be close with Jon, but years of being around him is enough for her to know championing the environment was all he wanted to do. Getting forced out of a job which allowed him to do just that must have been devastating.
She can’t stop thinking about it even as she and Theon switch to different topics. Even as they get drunker by the hour. And in the morning, when she wakes up hungover as fuck, with Theon snoring loudly on the sofa, she’s still thinking about it. About Jon and his purpose, about changing course so he can still try to fulfill it through a different path.
No matter how different their dreams are, she and Jon are similar in a sense that they both knew what they wanted since they were young and have been working towards it since. She can't imagine what it would feel like to lgo through what Jon has and having to find a way back on track.
It sits in her chest, these thoughts. So much so that words keep floating in her head until she’s humming lyrics. She grabs her phone and starts typing it into her notes app.
She ends up with just a couple of lines, not entirely sure what it’s truly about yet, but she leaves it alone. She’ll figure it out once inspiration strikes.