her head shakes , hands clasped o`er lap ; lower lip in pout . she listens intently as her elder speakssheer respect flowering features . button nose can’t help but shrivel at some of the other’s retellings , SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED . && alas , here she sits , in winterfell ; unscathed . her luck must be running low .
“ YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH . ” she begins , leaning forward ever - so slightly . “ did father leave these as stories for you to tell ? ”
She had startedat the beginning, when she’d been a girl not much older than Sansa herself. When the false summer bore on, and it seemed as though winter would never come. She told her niece all about Robert’s obsession, about Elia’s offer, about running away with Rhaegar. The child was implied, but Sansa had yet to ask about him. The young girl was bright and clever, however, and it was possible she had already put two and two together in her mind. It was a lot to digest, and in a short time.
The brunette shook her head, her smile sad and regretful. “No. What I tell you now was never to be told. Your father promised me, on his word as a Stark, that he would keep my secrets until his dying day. And he did.” The thought of Ned was a sharp pain between her ribs, and her eyes shone more brightly in the lantern light.
