Hizashi thought that Sansa's 'hearttree' was-

Well, he thought it was ugly as sin. The melted-looking dark bark even had warped and overlapped to look like a face. A face that looked close to weeping. It was. Something.

"That is ugly as fu-"

Hizashi elbowed Nemuri.

Sansa laughed.

"It can be peculiar," she agreed, merrily, little hands touching the bulbous grooves reverently, "But- But the eyes of the gods can see you better this way. It is comforting. We are not alone."

Hizashi shivered. It was hard. Hard to connect his daughter with her memories of her past life as a freaking middle age Queen in a different world. She was a unique kid, with her formal manners and her occasion slips into mercurial moods and sheer…. Stillness.

Because Sansa was also sweet.

She loved to sing.

She loved to dance.

She made art through thread and beads. Stitched and stitched her heart out on fabric for them to wear… Reached out to touch everyone with such gentleness and kindness it honestly brought him to tears. Because she did that because it was how she always, always wanted to be touched.

But then she spoke sometimes and he could see who she had been. See the otherness of rebirth in her in a way that one couldn't mistake.

This was one of those times.

Shota grumbled.

"Welp. How are we gonna get it out? I brought shovels."

Hizashi looked at the big ass tree. Sansa laughed again.

"Ser To-san? If I may use my Spring?"

"Oh thank your old gods. Yeah. Go for it kid. Official permission from this hero."

"SECOND little Singer!"

"Thirded."

Sansa laughed yet again.

Hizashi thinks its the safest thing to say, the fact that she is surprised each and every time she laughs is one of the saddest things on Earth.

She reached out.

And he watched with amusement as the roots of the tree began to wiggle.

"If you please," said Sansa, polite as can be.

The tree followed her command and marched as she directed to the back of Nemuri's truck.