Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'A Song of Ice and Fire' nor am I profiting from this.
Pairing(s): gen.
Prompt: I'm here.
Warning(s): none.
Word Count: 100.
Arya, unlike her sister never whimpers nor whines over a tangle. Sansa grips the back of a chair and grits her teeth, preparation as her mother attacks the snarl with a comb.
"I know," she sighs. "No one enjoys this part."
Arya watches in silent fascination as tears make their steady dribble down her cheeks and chin. Her grasp on teasing siblings is as strong as her needlework.
Her lower lip quivers, threatening a wail. Her hand catches a warm tear as she pats her arm.
"Robb can probably cry more."
Her mother's scowl promises punishment, but the quivering stops.