sᴀɴsᴀ (winterfelled) wrote in somerealityrpg, @ 2021-02-17 01:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | active: sansa stark, active: torunn thorsdottir |
tribulations of families
Calling Sansa and Arya's relationship complicated would be, in Sansa's opinion, an understatement. She'd attempted once to explain it to Margaery, who'd had a darling brother and a close relationship with him -perhaps similar to Jon and Arya in some ways, but Sansa couldn't really find the words to explain things.
Sometimes, it felt worse since the Battle of Winterfell, sometimes it felt better. But there were aspects of their childhood that never seemed to move away, and Sansa's extended periods with people like Cersei and Littlefinger had hardened some corners of her heart. Not showing weakness, distrusting it in others, keeping people at arms length.
It didn't really surprise her that Arya could be as cutting with words as she was with a knife. Nor did it surprise her that when animosity was delivered it was sent back. Arya brushed off her injury as if it were nothing, either unaware of the panic hearing about her sister's injury caused Sansa, or just not considering it. She had seen so many people she cared for struck from this life; witnessing father's beheading, being told in gory detail of Robb and her mother's final moments, of the niece or nephew that had been killed before it took breath, seeing Rickon so cruelly hunted by such a heartless beast. Margaery and Ser Loras, Theon, Sandor. All gone and Sansa learning with each death that caring for people brought pain.
Cersei may actually have been right about one thing.
As Shaggy Dog chased Summer through some trees, Lady staying quietly by Sansa's side and Grey Wind kept careful watch (Nymeria and Ghost with Arya wherever she was in this half ruined world), Sansa realised that perhaps she had underestimated her sister's propensity for causing pain.
Joffrey had been the biggest mistake of Sansa's life, and she knew that. She'd been young, full of ideas and swept up in the fantasy of being Queen, with an adoring husband and beautiful children and ruling with compassion and love. Of course, those turned out to be two things Joffrey wasn't capable of at all, and Sansa's childish dreams turned to ash in her mouth, dead as a dove held too tight, the moment her father's head was lobbed from his shoulders at her betrothed's orders.
She could only have wished that Joffrey would've been the worst of it. Although Lord Tyrion had been gentle and kind, attempting to make her captivity as easy on her as he possibly could, they both knew she was unhappy with their situation.
Not that any of it could have prepared her for Ramsey.
As a shudder ran down her spine, Lady nudging at her legs with a whine, Sansa buried her hand in the soft fur at Lady's neck before locating a tree with suitable shading where she could sit for a moment, keeping an eye on Shaggy Dog and Summer chasing each other.
She just needed some time and air before going home.