Hi lovely readers! I got struck with inspiration and I can guarantee that there will be at least three chapters published by next week. I hope you enjoy this short bit right here :) I look forward to reading your thoughts! - FlamingRose
December 24th, 1917 – A Train Station
Sansa had not thought this through. She knew she hadn't. She just didn't care. It was five in the morning and she was about to get onto the train to Winterfell, only one small bag, no trunk, no chaperone, nothing. She wore her silver and Sapphire pin in her hair, a stark contrast to the plain wool frock she was wearing. In her glove she carried only a train ticket and enough money to possibly buy a coffee and possibly a sandwich if she got hungry. The staff wouldn't be at the house. Only the stable hands and Mr. Cassell would be there to take care of the horses. She would sleep in the stables for all she cared. She couldn't stay there in the city, around all those people: everyone in the city went on with their lives while she rushed about trying to ignore the holes in her life the war had created. She wanted Winterfell.
Since Jaime asked her, all she could do was think about the place she wanted to be. On the carriage ride home, her mother made small talk with her uncle and Father about all the lovely dresses the ladies were wearing and how prettily Myrcella danced about the floor that night and how lovely her smiles were that evening.
"She positively glowed in that lamplight," her mother praised as Sansa stared out the window. She could feel Bran's eyes on her; like he was worried she'd crumble if he didn't watch her. Sansa tried to imagine sugarplum fairies flitting past the houses and trees like she used to when she was younger. She closed her eyes to picture their thin legs dancing along the wind, their hair flashing past in colors of deep purple. She tried her best to picture the sprites, but they just kept changing in her head into Arya, their deep purple tresses turning into Arya's long tangled locks as she ran about the yard. She opened her eyes and tried a different thought. Sprigs of holly against delicate lace wrapped itself about her mind, morphing into the red, green, and white of Margery in her white summer dresses cutting roses in her family garden. She tried to picture the beautiful nutcrackers on the mantelpiece, but their uniforms transformed into U.S. military uniforms and there she was faced with Robb, Theon, and Jon…Jon…She opened her eyes to find her vision blurred by tears that hadn't fallen yet. She couldn't escape the missing pieces. It wasn't Christmas without them here. She hastily wiped away the tears. She saw Bran out of the corner of her eye, a moment of worry on his face, but he was too kind to draw attention to her struggle. Sansa composed herself. She had to be strong. She was going to be strong. There was no time for tears.
At the house, everyone processed to bed. Her parents went to their rooms, and Bran gave her a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into his room. She stood in front of her door for a moment before slowly walking through the threshold. Her room was dark. The dim light from the streetlamps brought a hazy grey light into the room, just enough for her to find her way about and turn on the lamp on her vanity. She unfastened her black gown and let it fall about her ankles. She looked at it on the ground, and knew she should pick it up. She stepped over it to grab her nightgown off her bed. She went to sit at her vanity. She looked at herself in the mirror, her blue eyes staring back at herself. She felt like she was falling deeper into their pools, falling into the ocean again and again. Slowly, methodically, she unclasped the necklace from around her neck and let the red jewels wink at her in the light. Next she let down her hair, carefully brushing through it. She put her brush down on the table when she saw the silver and sapphire hairpin. She touched it carefully, like it was an icicle that would melt under her touch and disappear. As she stood she saw snow falling outside her window. Her fingers curled around the hairpin and almost instinctively, she brought it to her lips. Like a splash of cold water her mind awakened, and she thought again of Winterfell, and a rush came over her. She needed more than anything to be in Winterfell. She hurried about, putting a change of clothes in a bag, and changed out of her nightgown into a Grey, woolen frock and her fur lined winter coat. She put on her most comfortable boots, put the pin in her hair, went to the kitchen to grab money out of the coffee can, and snuck carefully and quietly out the back door. The house was asleep, but she was wide awake, walking through the yard towards the street as snow fell gently about her, the cold a comfort.
She walked to the station in a hurried haze, and somehow here she was: a ticket in one hand, her bag in the other. The train pulled up in front of her, steam reaching out in waves, melting the snow and creating a vacuum of heat about her that lasted seconds as the train came to a stop.
"Train to Newport, Rhode Island!" the ticket taker called from the door. She willed herself to move, and with her head held high she handed him the ticket and walked into an available compartment. She looked out the window to look out at the city. As the train lurched forward, she watched it slip by- building by building, house by house. Her eyes drifted closed and her head fell heavy against the glass. As the snow covered city was left behind, Sansa slept.