"What?" Sansa's eyes widened in disbelief. "I have to…to do WHAT?"
"I know it seems wrong, but it is a tradition here in the North," Catelyn put a hand on Sansa's shoulder, trying to comfort her. "It's okay to be scared, of course, anyone would be, but it's not as bad as it seems,"
"But…but I don't want to bed father! It's wrong! You're not supposed to…to do such things, it's sinful,"
"There's a reason for this, Sansa, as there is a reason for marriage, and a reason for our family members being buried in the crypts," Catelyn tucked a stray hair behind Sansa's ear. "And I swear to you, it is nowhere near sinful,"
"What's the reason, then?" She asked, still incredulous. "Septa Mordane told me—"
"Septa Mordane taught you in southern traditions, which can be useful—it was how I was raised. However, you are not southern," Her mother began.
"I know I'm not southern, mother, but…but it's still not right to go to bed with anyone before marriage—much less my own father!" Sansa was still resistant, unable to grasp the concept that this was acceptable in the eyes of the Gods.
"Love, it's not like that. It not an act of lust, it's a way of becoming a woman,"
"What do you mean? I thought I became a woman when I bled…"
"Bleeding is the first sign of you blossoming into a woman, but it's not yet the final passage. Not yet," Catelyn continued, "On your eighteenth nameday, you are old enough to transition into full womanhood, your body having fully developed. The Old Gods recognize you as a woman on the full moon directly following this day, when your father will deflower you. After that, you are a true northern woman, ready to be married and experience all the freedoms that being a woman grown may grant you. You, my love, are a northern girl, and I know you will be proud of be a northern woman too,"
"I know, and I am proud, but…but it just seems dirty, wrong…what about my husband? Won't he be upset when he finds out that I'm not a virgin?" She looked over at the gold lion necklace on her bedside table, its eyes made of small rubies. A nameday gift from her betrothed, one that she took no interest in. She dreaded the day she would marry this cruel, weak, weasel of a southern boy. She didn't understand why her parents couldn't have simply told King Robert no, and choose a better match for her. "I'm in no hurry to marry him, of course, I don't like Joffrey, he's…he's mean…what if he thinks I'm a whore? What if he strikes me for it? Will he understand?"
"Oh darling, you're not a whore for doing following tradition," Catelyn pulled her daughter close. "You are honoring your family, the family you were born into, and honoring our Gods. You will always be a daughter of the North, Sansa, even if you marry a southern boy. Trust me, I'm not so fond of the idea of you marrying Joffrey in the first place. If he ever harms you or so much as causes a tear to fall from your eyes, you know that your father will kill him,"
"You promise me I won't be damned, and I'm not disgusting?"
"I promise you, little one," She kissed Sansa's cheek. "You know, your Aunt Lyanna's First Night was wonderful, from what Ned tells me, anyways. Your Uncle Brandon was more than honored to perform the rite, and your father is honored to give this gift of womanhood to you," She smiled and ran her hand through her daughter's unbraided hair. "You're a beautiful, intelligent, and kindhearted girl, and you will be just the same as a woman,"
"Thank you, mother," Though Sansa was not fully comforted, her mother's words still soothed her a bit. She should be honored to become a woman by her father's hand. She should be excited, even. It was her duty, as a Stark girl, the only Stark girl.
"Do you remember my house words, Sansa? The words of house Tully?" Her mother asked, gently turning her head upwards.
"Yes, mother. Family, Duty, Honor,"
"It is your duty to honor your family," Catelyn reminded her. "And I know you will,"
"I promise that I will," Sansa hugged her mother, warmed and comforted for the moment.
"I know you'll make me proud," Cat gave her a big, loving squeeze. "I love you, so, so much, my baby girl. I couldn't have been more blessed to be your mother,"
"I love you too, mum," Sansa pulled away, and Cat placed a kiss on her forehead.
"Now, you enjoy the rest of your day—I'll see you at supper," She stood up.
"See you then, mum," The young Stark watched her mother exit the room, closing the door behind her.
Sansa raised from her bed and grabbed the golden necklace, examining it. It was well-crafted, but she knew she had seen one like it before. She'd seen Myrcella and Cersei wearing similar ones when she'd last met them. It was expensive, but it wasn't unique, and that bothered her.
'If he truly loved me, wouldn't he want to give me something special, something that no other woman has?' She thought to herself, 'Not that Joffrey ever made an effort to love me,'
She eyes were drawn to another piece in her jewelry box. She set the gold lion down and picked it up; a small necklace she had received for her eighteenth nameday only eight days ago. It was silver, with a wolf pedant. It wasn't as large as the lion one, and it had no fine gems within, but she remembered the what her father had told her when he presented her with it.
"I had this made just for you," He'd told her, as he placed it around her neck. "A princess like you deserves something special,"
She smiled at the memory, putting the necklace around her neck and clutching the pedant. She could feel the warmth within in, the love that her father had for her.
'He's right, I do deserve something special. I deserve to be treated like I am special,'
Sansa put the gold necklace away, in the bottom portion of her jewelry box. She wouldn't wear it; she wasn't Joffrey's and she never would be. She was a Stark, and she would prove that tomorrow evening.