If she was honest (and Shireen always was) she didn't know what to make of her father's new wife. Sansa was gorgeous, that was true, Shireen agreed with all of King's Landing that she was far more beautiful than Cersei ever was. Still, that sort of beauty seemed as though it belonged with someone equal, a faired haired knight like Jaime Lannister or a foreign prince. That Sansa seemed happy with her eternally scowling, plain father seemed impossible. It was equally befuddling that Sansa didn't seem to care about Shireen's mutilated face.
She next encountered the new queen in the solar, when Sansa looked up from her papers to meet Shireen's gaze.
"Call me Sansa, please" the new queen requests with an exhausted smile that seems entirely out of place on her beautiful face. She looks at Shireen a moment more, studies her, before lifting the left sleeve of her gown slowly. Shireen knows better than to gasp, but on the beautiful queen's arms, are foul, crimson scars. Sansa lets her sleeve drop, turns to look at Shireen with heavy, haunted eyes.
"These are memories from Joffrey-the prince's favorite form of entertainment was watching me be beaten by his loyal Kingsguard. Your father is a great deal better than him or the late king Robert."
Sansa leans to cup Shireen's disfigured face with a gentle hand, ignoring her sudden gasp and flinch.
"We have the same scars Shireen, they show we won. Wear your victory with pride, and no one will dare to harm you."