Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?
Warnings: It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)
Pairings: (Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Daenerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

Her Song of Fire and Ice
Chapter Eight: Dancing in a Daydream

Sansa grumbled under her breath, feeling her cheek being nudged. The nudges turned into taps, feeling like fingers, before the taps became light slaps slash grabbing slash squishing of both of her cheeks.

"Saaaansa! Wake up, wake up!"

Groaning, she opened her eyes and looked to see the culprit, spotting none other than her little brother. Of course.

"Rickon, what are you doing up?" she mumbled. She glanced around and noted the dark room. "It's still no light!"

Rickon was oddly subdued, which worried her and made her sit up and focus on her little brother.

"Hey," she pulled him closer, letting him grasp the front of her nightgown and bury his face into her neck.

"Sansa, I don't like it here," he started sniffling.

"What?" she asked, worry mounting. "Why not? I thought you were having lots of fun yesterday and you had all those kids you were playing with."

"It's not the same," her little brother started crying. "I miss home! I miss Robb and Jon and Arya and e-even Theon! Why did we have to come here? Shaggydog and Lady had to leave us because of that stupid Prince!"

"He is a stupid prince, isn't he," Sansa murmured, holding Rickon closer. "I'm sorry, Pup. But we're here now and we can't go back, not for a long while."

Rickon sniffled some more. "Can I sleep with you, Sansa? I don't want to be alone. I really don't like it here."

He's homesick, she thought. And so was she.

Kissing the top of his head, she lay back down while holding him close. "Okay, Pup. Only for tonight."

Rickon snuggled up to her, breathing all stuttered due to how worn out and still tearful he was, and she let him hold on and cry on her. It was a large, different place and nowhere like their home. Winterfell was far away now though and they had best get used to King's Landing, for however long their father was stuck as the King's Hand.

When she woke up again, it was to Rickon having somehow moved so that he lay his back on her stomach, snoring while using some of her hair as a blanket, tangling his hands all around red strands.

It was to this that Ros walked in at, pausing for a second before beginning to giggle.

"Ros! Help?" Sansa said, admitting to pouting.

She couldn't get up, not when her brother had her hair in a death grip. Also, any move to get up and he would tighten his grip.

"Well, everyone's been quite fascinated with your hair lately, so it only makes sense for the little one to be all possessive of it," Ros teased her, but came over to try to pry Rickon's fingers out of her hair.

It took a bit but eventually they managed to do it, and then Ros helped Sansa put Rickon on the bed before the darker redhead then helped Sansa slide off the bed carefully.

"I managed to make those paints yesterday," Ros told her. "We can try them now, after your bath. I'll get everything ready, while you take it, okay?"

"Yes, okay," Sansa agreed, smiling at her new handmaiden. It felt nice to have someone familiar from the North with her, and someone to help her out. And also another reminder her awkward father was doing his best and going about in his own way to show he cared and to look after her.

Sansa didn't languish in the bath, quickly drying herself and then putting on her shift. Then she sat at a desk with the looking glass, waiting as Ros brushed her hair and then separated it on either side of her head, plaiting both sections into a braid. Ros had then tugged the braids a little loose and then pulled a few strands out to frame Sansa's face. Once Ros had pinned her braided hair across her head in a wrap-like crown, she declared Sansa's hair down and had then went to reach for the paints.

"Let's see which one matches your skin, milady," Ros said and they worked on that for a few moments, finally matching her skin as much as possible. She tilted Sansa's head to the side and exposed her neck, only barely taking a second as she saw the name and then beginning to start to apply the skin paint.

"He's a Northerner," Ros said nonchalantly, taking gentle hold of Sansa's neck.

"He's also a Bolton," Sansa lowered her eyes, thinking about it and remembering a similar talk with Robb. "He's also as old as my lord father."

"You know…" Ros started to swiftly but carefully dab the paint onto her skin. "The few times he's traveled to Winterfell, he's always been the serious sort, I hear. Never visits Winter Town, never the brothel. Hardly drinks, even in company. Especially in company. Never met him myself, but I hear things. That man likes his peace and quiet." A last caress and Ros made sure it was also blended now. "He's of the North, Lady Sansa. He'd understand better than most and would take this seriously."

Sansa didn't answer back, but bit her lip, thinking about the man she most likely left behind. Would he have, despite his reputation, actually cared about having a Soul Bond? About being her Soulmate? Would he have even cared if it was her?

"I have another Mark," she said suddenly, catching Ros off guard. The other redhead's eyes widened at that. "Lord Bolton's not the only one," Sansa ended softly. "I don't know what it all means, or-or why I have three Soul Marks. And I'm scared."

Ros hesitated before kneeling before Sansa and taking her hands in hers.

"I don't know much about this either," she admitted. "But I've heard and seen things, and I do know that Soulmates aren't perfect…but they can be, if you let it. You're matched with parts of your soul…That has to mean something, doesn't it? And I would think that means they would know you —and you know them —better than anyone. Better than themselves and they you."

Sansa blinked in surprise but felt almost something like hope fill her at that. Maybe having those three —and having so many Soulmates —wasn't a bad thing.

"Now where are the other two Soul Marks?" Ros asked and Sansa held out her wrist, feeling a bit shy about Stannis' Mark. She'd actually met him after all, and well, it being located right above where her heart was…

Ros' fingers only briefly paused on her wrist as she saw the name, but began to work on it as well, covering up the Soul Mark easily. But then she was looking expectantly at Sansa and she could feel her cheeks quickly begin to warm up. Sansa couldn't help herself, covering her face and shaking her head, biting her lips to stop the smile and giggles from escaping, and not doing a very good job of it.

Ros started to grin. "Oh? Has milady met this one? What's with this reaction, Lady Sansa?"

Sansa shook her head rapidly, fighting off her giggles failingly and making a strange little wiggle in her seat that had her handmaiden laughing.

The brief upturn of his lips…An almost brush of their fingers on pieces…Just an inch more…Her name said by him…

Embarrassingly, Sansa's giggles were uncontrollable and she pulled her legs up to plant her feet on her chair, hiding her (probably) silly look into her knees.

"Oh dear! Look at you! You're a sweet, blushing mess! How cute."

"Stannis Baratheon, my Lady."

She instantly recognized him from the moment he entered and startled her and Shireen. It had, strangely, set her heart into a racing beat and to inwardly be aflutter. One of her Soulmates was here! But then he said his name and she felt like time had stopped and everything was right and he was here.

"May I ask who's got you all in a tizzy, milady?"

…Which brought her back down to her surroundings and then remembering who he was. And that he was married. And that he already had a daughter.

(A sweet, precious, kind daughter, who she didn't understand could ever be treated so unkindly!)

"He's married," Sansa said morosely, no longer embarrassed about where her Mark was located and moving the upper part of her shift to bare the name more. She also tried not to think about him anymore either.

Ros quietly, eyes glancing at the name, began to apply the skin paint there as well. When she was done, Sansa let her shift fall back into place, while Ros put the things away.

"Well," Ros started all of a sudden. "In my line of work, marriages get forgotten all the time. So for a Soulmate? I bet he'll come running for you."

"Ros!" Sansa said scandalized, blushing and sputtering, while her handmaiden laughed and gave her a wink.

"Saaaansa! M'hungry," Rickon said, sitting up abruptly on the bed. He didn't look fully awake at all, one hand rubbing at his eyes while his upper body swayed.

They looked at him in amusement, while Ros patted Sansa's shoulder. "Why don't you get him fully awake and ready for the day, and I'll go see about getting you two food?"

"Thank you, Ros," Sansa went over to her brother and hustled him out of bed and ready to take a bath. By the time that was done, Ros was back and Sansa had gotten him dry as the food was laid out.

"Eat politely and mind your manners," she told him as he went to eat, while Ros went to get her gown.

Sansa let Ros help her into the new gown she was to wear, surprised at it. It was a pretty black and gold colored gown that Ros had said was just delivered that morning for Sansa.

"What are your plans for today?" Sansa asked her.

"Gossip," Ros said immediately, smirking. "The more you learn, the more you can navigate around the place and around people. I've always lived by that, so I'll probably be doing some listening in and connecting with others for awhile. Will you need me for anything?"

"I'll be fine," Sansa told her. "I'll just be attending a water dance lesson and then look around the city for a proper building for another orphanage, and visit the one the city has after," she said, remembering the talk she'd had with King Robert in the gardens.

He'd kindly allowed her to work on this (well, honestly, he'd more or less waved it off and said whatever she wanted to do, she was most certainly allowed and could do what she wanted). He also had said that he'd send Ser Barristan to help her and to watch over her.

There was a knock then at Sansa's door and the two young women looked at each other.

"I'll be back, milady," Ros said and Sansa went towards Rickon while Ros headed towards the door.

"Have you seen Rickon?" she heard her father's worried voice and she called out to him.

"He's in here, Father!"

Ned entered her room and saw Sansa brushing through a still very sleepy Rickon's wet hair. Rickon gave him a toothy grin.

"I had a nightmare so I found Sansa."

"Of course you did," their father said fondly. "But you know you can't do that all the time. Sansa is becoming a young lady and she needs her privacy."

Rickon made a face. "But Sansa's always there," he grumbled, leaning back against her.

She and their father traded amused, exasperated looks.

"I'll take Rickon, but I'll escort you to your water dancing lesson first," Ned told her. "Bring your quarterstaff with you."

That surprised Sansa, who hadn't even known her father knew about it. Seeing her expression, Ned raised an eyebrow.

"Don't be so surprised," he said dryly. "Ser Rodrik was absolutely giddy with the project and Jon asked me to help him get the wood from the heart tree for it. Your mother even created the design for it."

Even if it wasn't ladylike, Sansa ended up gaping at him. She didn't know what she was most shocked by —that her parents had known about it, that her quarterstaff really had been made of the heart tree (the audacity of Jon!), or that her mother actually designed it herself. Her mother who disliked the idea of ladies with weapons and disapproving of them learning anything remotely to do with them, and yet she had involved herself with something like this for Sansa.

It made her heart both hurt and warm for her mother, who had done something like this despite all of her usual reservations.

"It's beautiful," Sansa said quietly, going to grab it from where she'd carefully hid it.

"I'll make sure to note that in my next letter home," Ned promised.

He held out his arm and she grasped it, letting Rickon sleepily tug on her arm and follow. Her father dismissed Ros, and then the two of them began heading towards where her second water dance lesson would begin. In her first, introductory one, Syrio had her learning all manner of stretches that he said she should learn to keep limber and help her body be prepared for the water dance and overall physical conditioning so she wouldn't strain or damage her body. He had plenty of praises for her graceful movements though, which had made her flounder and become embarrassed, grace becoming flailing and awkwardness that had made him laugh.

"Here we are," her father announced once they reached the place she'd been in last time. Syrio was already waiting. "Syrio, my daughter is here."

"Lord Hand, Lady Sansa," he bowed.

Ned turned to her and kissed her forehead, smiling warmly at her for a moment before his usual expression was back.

"Be well, Daughter," he told her and she promised.

Then he left with Rickon, allowing her to be alone with Syrio. That didn't actually last long —to her amazement, Jaime strode in cockily, giving her a wink and an exaggerated bow.

"Lady Sansa!" he greeted before he turned to Syrio. "Syrio, I see you've gotten a new student. You sure she can learn water dance? She's pretty dainty," he said, tossing a teasing look to her.

Syrio cleared his throat, glancing at her as well. "…Yes. She is a fine dancer. Very graceful, as has been proven so far. We'll be working on speed today, my Lady."

"Really?" she asked, curious. "How so?"

"If you could stand by that wall?" he directed towards her and Jaime sat nearby, observing curiously himself. "I see you brought your quarterstaff. Place it to the side and we can begin seeing to your speed!"

Sansa hesitated, not wanting to just place her quarterstaff anywhere. It was precious to her and she didn't want to be careless with it.

"Lady Sansa, toss it to me," Jaime interrupted. "I'll take care of it, I promise."

He gave her a winsome smile and she hesitated a moment, before trusting him and throwing it to him. He caught it neatly and she knew he would also carefully handle it while she was busy.

"Good, good! Let us start!" Syrio said excitedly, apparently having retrieved a box of oranges. "Make sure you dodge!"

Sansa stared. "Wha —"

She was cut off as Syrio threw an orange at her lightning fast, hitting her hard on her forehead and making her head jolt backwards. She, unladylike, gaped at him in shock while rubbing her forehead and trying to keep from voicing her pain. In the background, she heard a certain someone choke and then try to hide their laugh.

Scandalized, she tried to speak, only for Syrio to grin. "How slow, Lady Sansa. I thought you'd be faster than that. And your grace has all but disappeared!"

Sansa became all ruffled up, indignant and rather (reluctantly) admitting her pride had been a little bruised by that.

"I assure you that I —" Once again cut off, Syrio threw another orange and she moved hurriedly to evade.

To her consternation, without being able to get a word in edgewise, that was what Sansa was spending the next hour doing. Her hair, once nicely made up, was in a disarray. Her pretty gown was thankfully okay, but it was probably wrinkled more than it probably had been when she first wore it…She was glad that the wrinkles blended with the fabric and color.

But, while she wasn't graceful, she more than missed much of the throws at her. Only, Syrio looked disappointed and she didn't know why.

"You have become quite fast, yes," he acknowledged. "But flailing around is not what we are aiming for."

Sansa became disappointed in herself. She had been so focused on not being hit, that she knew she looked panicked and harried, limbs indeed flailing as she moved to gracelessly avoid the oranges.

"Water dancing is all about grace along with the speed," Syrio lectured. "While you are full of grace and can be fast, we must be able to have both at the same time —to maintain speed and grace simultaneously. A balance, as you will. Just like you must contain the balance in your body as you evade, so that you can keep that grace in your body as you whirl faster and faster like the wind! The goal of water dance is to be like water, so that you can move like water. Doing so will ultimately culminate in being able to dance upon the water without the water being disrupted, as if you had already become one with it."

"Yes, yes, yes," Jaime interrupted with a drawl. "Hence, the name 'water dance.' That's all well and good, Syrio. How about you go and bring back lunch for all of us, and we can take a break. She did work rather hard, you know. Hardly looking like a lady now, eh, Lady Sansa?" he winked at her and she was both embarrassed and dismayed.

She didn't know what she looked like, but she knew he was right and she was hardly looking put together and anything like a proper lady at the moment. And the nerve of him! Teasing her too.

Syrio nodded and left, leaving Sansa and Jaime alone. Jaime's playful expression melted into one of concern and gentleness.

"Are you alright? I know you've had a rough, tiring morning. You did do well, by the way. I'm sure you understand what he's getting at, but I can never understand and fight like that either. I'm not at all graceful, but I'm damn fast and I'd like to think I'm a superb swordsman. You? For some beginning work, you're doing pretty well, like I said."

She gave him a small smile. "I still wish to do better. I'll try harder when he comes back and be more mindful of the way I move my body. I don't want to be dancing clumsily after all."

Jaime gave her an awkward grin. "Anyway," he started. He held up her quarterstaff, wielding it strangely. "Ah, even though it's like a sword, it's still too unwieldy for me. Never did get the hang of it. How did you end up learning using one?"

"My brother Jon taught me and my sister the sword," she revealed. "It wasn't quite for me and he figured that I might enjoy and learn the quarterstaff better —it's lighter and I can maneuver it around much easier than an actual sword. Surprisingly, I became quite good at using it."

"Really?" he looked curious. "How about a show, my Lady?"

Shy but actually kind of eager, she accepted her quarterstaff back and began to get herself warmed up with it, doing a few easy twirls in front of her, before she began doing more complicated stuff. She moved her body with it, having a bit of fun and not really any formal quarterstaff stances and moves, but more fancy (and again really more for fun) twirls and throws. She'd thrown it several times in the air and caught it easily, twirled behind her back, did a combination of different twirls front and back, and even twirled it around her neck.

Jaime egged her on and she continued to show off with it, laughing with him and loosening up. She was having so much fun and so busy becoming relaxed as she rotated and tossed her quarterstaff with ease, that she hadn't noticed Syrio had come back and was watching in amusement until he cleared his throat.

Startled, she still managed to neatly catch her quarterstaff and easily moved it into a twirl that went to get it to a rest position by her side.

"Very impressive," Syrio complimented. "After we eat, we'll continue our speed training. Only, you must use your quarterstaff this time."

Blinking, she nodded to show she understood, though at the same time she was finally getting suspicious about all this. After eating, Sansa stood back by the wall and waited with her quarterstaff, holding it with both hands in position on the grip handle and out in front of her.

Syrio nodded and then began throwing the oranges speedily; Sansa (with an ease and confidence she hadn't expected but had come to her easily) began responding with her quarterstaff and batting the oranges away. Once she became even more confident, she started to move with her quarterstaff into more complicated twirls, flowing with it and smashing the oranges away harder with the momentum she built up. And with momentum came speed, but she felt light on her feet and just trusted her instincts, moving her body after the flow of her quarterstaff.

"Excellent!" Syrio crowed. "That's exactly it! Keep it up, my Lady!" and began going faster, doubling the oranges her way with both hands.

By that point, she was starting to take it as a challenge and even having fun with it. She kept going until a throat cleared and disrupted them, also catching her off guard enough that the last orange she hit, she accidentally aimed it towards the intruder. To her mortification, Ser Barristan jerked his body to the side a bit, to avoid the projectile speeding towards his head.

"Ser Barristan!" Sansa cried out. "Are you okay? I am so sorry, Ser!"

He coughed and gave her a slight smile. "I'm fine, Lady Sansa. That was…a well done hit. I believe that would've been quite painful had it hit."

She winced and was going to apologize again, when Ser Barristan saw Jaime and started to frown.

"Ser Jaime, what're you doing here? Are you not supposed to be at your current post?" his frown grew deeper.

Jaime straightened, molding his face to a bored, disinterested look. "I was free for the morning and thought I'd come visit Lady Sansa. And seeing what she was up to, I decided to stay a while and watch. I've no duties to attend to until later, if you're worried about them, Ser Barristan."

Ser Barristan eyed him, not saying anymore, though he was still frowning heavily. He glanced at Syrio after, before focusing on Sansa.

"My Lady, I believe you wanted to see if there were any free buildings in the city? His Grace has sent me to accompany and help you," he said.

Sansa slung her quarterstaff behind her, using the attached strap. Then she reached up and touched her hair self-consciously.

"I must look quite frightful," she winced.

"Not at all," Jaime grinned roguishly at her. "I was joking earlier. You have quite a few loose strands, but it looks meant that way. In fact, you look quite fetching, my Lady."

A rush of warmth spread across her cheeks, while Ser Barristan tossed the other knight a disgruntled look.

"I suppose it's time to be off then," Sansa mused before turning to Syrio. "Thank you for your time. I quite appreciate it and the lesson."

Syrio gave her a fond look. "Until next time then."

She was just about to go to Ser Barristan then, when she had a thought and said wryly.

"Water dancing isn't really dancing, is it?" she looked at them.

Jaime stood up quickly, suddenly realizing the situation. "I think I remembered the Queen requesting I retrieve something for her. I must be going now!"

He bowed and left, and then Syrio coughed and winked at her. "I think I should hurry to the kitchens and apologize for the missing box of oranges. Goodbye, my Lady!"

Which left Ser Barristan and her. She gave him an amused look, while he sighed and gave her a dry look back.

"I believe the Lord Hand would have a better answer for you."

Barristan walked calmly behind Lady Sansa, watching her walk around the second to last building on the list he'd procured for her for this venture. So far, she had meticulously gone through each building, inquired with the owners, and inspected what she could and most of what she needed.

"My Lady, any thoughts so far?" he inquired and Lady Sansa stopped and turned to him, looking thoughtful.

"King's Landing has only one orphanage," she murmured. "But there are too many orphans on the streets. Additionally, there are also too many of the people without any homes."

He listened quietly, waiting for her. Then a look of determination came over her face.

"Right. So the main orphanage is overflowing, along with the children on the streets. So at least two buildings could be used to house orphans. A third building however —and it should be somewhat huge —could be used to help house some of the homeless temporarily. We can see about finding ways to have them become useful in exchange for boarding and food, and then slowly have them ready to find steady work to boost the city's workforce and the economy. With that, we could boost the royal coffers, while cleaning up the streets. Figuratively of people and literally as there will be less of them crowding and living on the streets, and so the less King's Landing will be overly packed with people and the trash that come with them."

Barristan peered at her intently. She was just a girl of ten and six, yes? She was rather scarily competent however, and part of him reluctantly tried to recall if even Prince Rhaegar had gone so far as to think of the people this closely.

Lady Sansa nodded surely. "And more hopefully, the smell of this city will become better!"

Barristan inwardly snorted. "Now that would be the most welcome result, my Lady," he allowed himself to dryly joke, drawing delighted giggles from her and an appreciative look, which had his lips twitching up.

"It won't happen overnight," she beamed at him. "But I am certain the city can at least be just a bit cleaner."

"If it doesn't, I beg of you to spare me and take me back with you to Winterfell, where I hope the smell is better," he continued in his dry tone.

She arched an eyebrow, smiling playfully. "Very much so!"

"In any case, Lady Sansa, it sounds like a very long term project indeed. I will make sure to inform His Grace on the specifics, though I'm sure he'll allow anything if it's you," he found himself teasing her, which had been actually quite the while since he'd been in the mood to do so, much less actually have done it.

She blushed and waved her hand dismissively. "He wouldn't just allow such a huge undertaking without reviewing it…right?"

Barristan, in a good mood and feeling oddly up to jesting, just grinned at her and looked ahead to keep walking.

Ned glanced at his daughter…who looked normal but something felt off. Rickon was happily bouncing around, only corralled into calming down and eating his dinner by Sansa and a disapproving look from Septa Mordane, and he could've sworn that everything was okay. But just…he didn't know what, but he knew something was off.

"I had a productive day today, Father," Sansa told him, smiling sweetly.

Ned gave her a small smile, nodding. "That is good. Anything in particular happened?"

"It was good. I managed to look into several good buildings to turn into orphanages and maybe one to turn into a place to temporarily host homeless people until they're ready to be useful and working to support themselves," Sansa informed him and he nodded again, this time thoughtfully.

His daughter had bright ideas and a good heart…but he wasn't sure this would be so easy to undertake. Especially with the kingdom's coffers as they were.

"Other than that, I had a well done session for water dancing."

Septa Mordane made a disapproving tutting noise and Ned choked a bit on his food, glancing furtively at his daughter. It was —should be an innocent statement. But the subject and then the emphasizing made it clear the 'something off' he felt must be to do with the water dancing he'd allowed her to participate in.

"Oh?" he asked lightly, trying not to let on that he was aware his daughter wasn't happy with him.

"Imagine my surprise when I found out and realize 'water dancing' wasn't really dancing at all," she said in a deceptively cheery tone and Ned winced.

Ah, that had been quicker than he thought it'd be.

He cleared his throat and took the box he'd set aside, handing it over to his eldest daughter.

"This is for you," he said quickly and she took the box in surprise, opening it after.

He was relieved only for a second, as next he was watching his daughter's face become inscrutable as she took out the doll he'd found and bought for her. She was examining it and wrecking his nerves.

"Eh? You bought Sansa a doll?" he heard Rickon exclaim loudly. "But she's too old for dolls!" he laughed raucously, practically laughing at Ned and also his attempt at a thoughtful gift for his daughter that was growing up too fast and who he had never been able to connect with as well as with his other children.

Oh, he loved her dearly but Sansa had always been the child he'd least understood and hadn't been able to connect with so well.

But, though Ned's pride had been pricked by his youngest, it had actually gotten Sansa's lips to slightly quirk up and she carefully took the doll in her arms and set it on her lap.

"Rickon, Father is trying," she told his son gently. "It's a sweet gesture too," she turned to him and smiled sweetly, more sincerely than earlier, and he finally relaxed a little more. She wasn't completely upset with him at least.

"Perhaps I'm too old for playing with dolls, but I do like it and think it'll be a great display. I could even save it and hand it down to my children."

The idea of Sansa with children already made him twitch and he had to make himself not overtly scowl. He settled for his usual frown.

After a subtle glance from Sansa though, Septa Mordane gathered Rickon up and ushered him away from the table, which reminded him of not only Catelyn with Sansa's ability to easily and gracefully lend her command to others…but again, that she was growing up too quickly for his liking.

He also, currently under her gaze, felt like he was the one that was the child and about to be reprimanded. Another thing Catelyn was capable of doing.

"Father, thank you for trying," she said simply instead. "I know you've been doing your best."

Ned sighed and stood up, walking over to her and pulling out the chair beside her.

"It is just much harder for me to connect to you," he said honestly. "I don't know what girls like. Arya is…"

"Different," her lips twitched up again. "She doesn't like the usual things girls would and would rather do things boys do."

Ned ended up chuckling, agreeing with that. "It was why I thought Bear Island would suit."

"It was what I thought as well," Sansa said wryly. "But she's been adamant on coming here instead, so she could play my knight."

He actually did burst out laughing at that, but it would most definitely be something his younger girl would want. He wouldn't be surprised if Arya demanded to be a knight and spend her life as one, forever frustrating Catelyn.

"You could always just simply ask me," she gently told him.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," he told her, giving a soft smile to his second oldest. He took her hand and squeezed. "I did thought, since you seemed to be happy and doing so well with your quarterstaff, that you would've liked water dancing and that's why I found Syrio. However, you seemed so excited and pleased with me about remembering that you loved dancing, that I couldn't let you know and let you down."

She laughed lightly. "Well, at least I do enjoy the lessons and I very much like Syrio. You lucked out," she ended up teasing, surprising him.

Ned ended up giving her a sheepish look.

Sansa patted his hand. "You can make it up to me however." She pointed over to the basket by Ned, on another seat. "By doing something I do like to do with me."

For some reason dread grew in him and he hesitantly opened the basket. He winced. Needles and thread and cloth…

"I was thinking we could sew together," Sansa said blithely, her face normal and unmoved. But her eyes were looking at him in laughter.

So he sighed and gave her half a grin as he started to take the needles out.

"What are we working on?"

Therefore, he spent some hours with his daughter (at least it felt like hours!) fumbling with needle and thread with his inexperienced, thick fingers, enjoying the calm, quiet and peaceful time with her. He noted how it was much alike to the times he would clean Ice in the godswood and was glad his daughter had found a time that was liken to when he could find his own peace.

Despite pricking his fingers many a times, it was well worth it when he was able to gift his daughter his best work of a handkerchief, emblazoned with a roughly sewn image of their family's sigil.

Receiving his daughter's much more elegant and beautiful version was the best gift he'd ever been given, minus being blessed with all of his children.

"I hope you can save some time for me this week, given Syrio really does know some Braavosi dances and promised to teach me them. We should learn them together."

The smug, mischievous look she delivered towards him made him laugh truly and inwardly shake his head.

He did not know whether that was Brandon or Lyanna he was seeing in her, but it most certainly was not him or Cat —neither of them had ever been so playful and mischievous!

Started 4/10/20 – Completed 3/17/21

A/n: Eeeek! Why was this such a monster to finish and edit? ;-; Jeezus, it was such a pain. I'm sorry for the lateness, but damn, some of these parts was just killing me. And then life just kept getting in the way over and over again, so I kept forgetting or getting too busy to upload. I apologize again, guys! I might take longer again for the next one too, since I've been busy and focused trying to finish some originals and getting the first published. In the meantime, hope you all enjoy this chapter!

I really appreciate everyone's comments and support! They really make me smile and motivate me :)