Love is a Battlefield (a Game of Thrones fanfic)

Love is a Battlefield

Four Years Later –

Sansa   

Love is a Battlefield by wolfgirl23

7 Kingdoms Historical AU.  The Rose and the Stag are knights cast on two opposite sides of the War of Five Kings, yet they both carry a secret in their hearts that no one save themselves can know. FINALLY COMPLETED!

Status: Complete | Words: 87,345 | Hits: 10,256 | Kudos: 3,984 | Comments: 1,258 | Bookmarks: 537 Collections: 5

 

Sansa Stark is inordinately proud of herself as she reads over her author’s note for the fifth time to ensure she hasn’t made any typos and finally, finally, after almost a year, hits the submit button.  She leans back in her uncomfortable desk chair, and waits.

One notification, two, three, five, twelve.

Watching people react to her posting the stunning, tragic, painstakingly-researched conclusion to her great epic in real-time is absolutely amazing. 

"Is it live?"  Sansa jumps about a foot in the air, slamming her hands down on her keyboard and turning to see her little sister, Arya, leaning against the doorway, a large bowl of something in her hands and a fork hanging from her mouth.  She's so used to living alone that interruptions like this, due to her unfortunate houseguest, are rather... alarming.  "Because I maintain the fact that if you changed some of the imagery around you could totally market it as a historical novel and not some creepy story about, you know, real people.  Shit's gross, Sans."

It's a conversation that they've had many times before.  Sansa knows it's weird and a little gross on an intellectual level, and she justifies it to herself by insisting to Arya (and the handful of other people who know of her hobby) that no one knows much at all about rosenstag's band members.  They go by 'the stag' and 'the rose' and they've never performed, as far as Sansa or the rest of the bandom can tell, without their faces obscured.  She thinks that this is an appropriate enough level of anonymity that she can get away with writing about them within feeling super weird about it.  She has friends who write stories about Dany Targaryen like it's going out of style, and she's... well, Sansa's never really been into that.

Arya is looking at her expectantly, like she expects the same old argument out of Sansa's mouth, but Sansa's decided, with this story well and truly done, that she's not talking about it anymore.

"What are you eating," Sansa demands, closing her eyes and wishing that Bran and Rickon both weren't sick at home with the flu and that Arya didn't have a fencing competition in town this coming weekend.  She's here because she doesn't want to get sick, and because their mother has all but kicked her out because the flu would 'ruin her shot at the title.'

"Carbs," Arya explains, tilting her bowl towards Sansa. There's pasta and what looks like cheese in it.  It looks disgusting. "Gotta get 'em in now."

"What about like... green things?"  Sansa ventures.  "Salad? Broccoli?"

"Breakfast," Arya answers, raising an eyebrow.  "Don't you know anything about preparing for a a match at all?"

"Um, no?"  She gets up and stretches.  She'll read the comments on her story tonight, once there are more of them so she can get to her replies in one short burst of mental energy.  "I emailed you the scrubbed version, if you want to read it. Dad too."

Arya grins, bright and all teeth.  "Excellent," she says and twists, digging her phone from her pocket.  She disappears off down the hall towards the kitchen, saying, mostly to herself.  "Dinner reading."