Here's another chapter! I hope you keep enjoying this little fic! If you do, please let me know. ;)
The haze of sleep was thick and heavy around Sansa and she would gladly have stayed within its comfy arms if not the troubling images that flashed in her mind. Gradually, consciousness came back to her as well as the memory of all that had taken place in the dark of night in the very bed she laid in. Groaning, she shifted between her sheets and stretched her arms and neck.
Right, I've fallen asleep, Sansa remembered. She had been totally exhausted after having cast her spells and had had no choice but to return to bed to rest a little. Opening her eyes in slits, she squinted and looked around herself. While her rooms was bright with sunlight, half of it was cloaked in shadows, as it always was in the afternoon.
In the afternoon? What time is it? Sansa wondered, her eyes growing wide. Jerking her head to the side, she peered at the clock radio to see in consternation that it was almost 3pm.
"Oh, by the holy Seven!" she said aloud, sitting up at once.
Arya would be coming back home at any moment now! Sansa needed to tidy up her room before her sister had a chance to arrive, to take a shower and get dressed! While she had managed to heal herself well enough and to remove all traces of fire, her chamber was still an utter mess and the smell of smoke definitely lingered. She had to do something about it!
In a hurry, Sansa rose to her feet, but she staggered a little as she took her first steps. She was still weak, she realised. Though it was tempting, it would be best if she didn't attempt to use her newfound power to clean up her room. Doing so would be too risky with the way she had emptied her well earlier today. Letting out a long, weary sigh, she strode to the bathroom she shared with Arya and got in the shower.
For many long minutes, Sansa scrubbed herself clean with much more vigour than she normally used, yet no matter how hard she tried, she could not rid herself of the impression she had of being soiled. She felt filthy, as if her every pore was filled with the reek of smoke as well as with the demon's powerful scent. On top of that, her crotch was sticky with his semen. She didn't remember how many times he'd come, but it had to be around five, which was a lot from as far as she knew. Sansa grimaced in disgust at the thought of it, scrubbing even harder
As she lathered shampoo into her long hair, the sting in her palm reminded her of the cut she had given herself to call forth the demon. The Hound had only partly mended it when he licked her and she had forgotten to include it in her healing spell earlier on. I'll take care of that later, Sansa decided, as she stepped out of the shower.
After having dried herself with a towel, Sansa hurriedly put on a t-shirt and hoodie with yoga pants and tied her wet hair in a messy pony tail. Without losing an instant, she opened all of the second floor's windows to freshen up the air and started picking up and putting back in place all of the different objects which had fallen to the ground with the demon's apparition. Among them, she found her bloody nightgown and torn panties and cringed at seeing the poor state they had been left in. There was no saving either and thus with a sigh, she tossed them in the garbage bag she had brought up from the kitchen. The black candles she had used for her Evocation had been burnt to the wick, their wax glued to the old wooden floor. Sansa tore them off as best she could and threw everything in the garbage bag.
The floor was covered with the white sand she had used for her pentagram, though the shape of it had been entirely lost by now. Working as fast as she could, Sansa swept the grains in a pile with a broom and then used a dustpan to shovel the lion's share of it into the garbage bag. Afterwards, she brought up the vacuum from downstairs and removed what remained until not even a grain was left. Just as she was returning to her room after having stored back in place the vacuum, broom and dustpan, she heard the sound of someone entering the house.
Oh, no! Already? Sansa thought, her heart jumping against her ribcage. Panic rising in her, she rushed to her closet and tossed her garbage bag inside, yet no sooner had she closed the door that she heard her sister shout from the hallway.
"Seven Hells! What the fuck has happened in here?!" her frenzied voice echoed through the house.
Oh gods, is it really that noticeable? Sansa wondered, her whole body growing stiff at once. The shear terror she had heard in her sister's voice froze her blood.
In no time, Arya's footsteps could be heard resounding as she climbed up the grand wooden staircase as fast as she could. "Fuck!" she cursed again. "Sansa! Sansa, where are you?!"
Too petrified to so much as move a finger, Sansa waited in place for her sister to arrive, standing at the centre of her chamber as immobile as a statue.
A second later, Arya was slamming the door open and storming inside her room. Her eyes were wide with dread and her face as white as paper, which contrasted quite a lot with the messy black makeup, probably from yesterday, she had around her eyes. She was all dressed in black: black jeans, black combat boots, a black woollen sweater with a black leather jacket over it. mum hated her style and often complained about it.
"Sansa! You're alright! Oh my gods!" Arya exclaimed in disbelief. For a brief instant, she glanced upward, as if to thank some benevolent god, but then her features twisted in an expression of incomprehension and alarm and she gazed down at Sansa. "What the fuck ever happened in here, Sansa? Have… have you done something?" she asked somewhat hesitantly. Her incredulity was to be expected: Sansa was indeed not one to ever cause problems and even less if said problems involved magic. This couldn't possibly have been caused by her.
"What… what do you mean?" Sansa asked innocently, unwittingly cradling her scarred hand against her chest.
"What I mean?" Arya repeated, her eyes growing as wide as saucers. Taking a step forward, she craned her neck to glare up at her. Though she was only two years younger, she was a good six inches shorter than Sansa. "You're joking, are you?" she continued heatedly. "It stinks of smoke in here! And by the Stranger, can't you sense it? Some wicked spell has been cast between those four walls, you won't make me believe anything less!" Wincing, Arya looked around herself and shuddered visibly. "And there's like… this… this strange psychic scent - unlike anything I've ever sensed! - and something like untamed energy trapped in your room... It's so, so weird, and not in a good way!"
As she heard her sister speak, Sansa felt the colour drain from her face. Arya was not one to be easily frightened, thus to see her freak out so much was not very reassuring. It's just the unknown. I've seen the Hound in person and he's not… not so bad, she tried to convince herself, though in truth she failed.
"What has happened, Sansa?" Arya insisted when she didn't answer. With both her hands, she grabbed her by the front of her hoodie and gazed up at her, her eyes-half pleading, half-crazed. "You look like a mess, Sansa - it's not like you at all! Have you looked yourself in the mirror? Something very strange has taken place in here and you know it, there's no doubt in my mind about it! What was it? Tell me!" she practically begged, shaking her.
Gulping, Sansa knit her brow as if in pain and shut her eyes to better reflect upon her situation. If Arya could have sensed so much from the instant she stepped into the house, there was no way in all of Westeros she could ever keep what she had done from her parents when they arrived back home tomorrow afternoon. Arya had Skill and was much more knowledgeable in Craft than her. While Sansa had been given theorical lessons on the matter as anyone with witch blood, her sister had had practical lessons on top of that and been taught how to use her power ever since it first started appearing a few years ago. There was no way around it: though Sansa would have preferred not to open up to Arya, she needed help and badly at that! And who else was there to ask apart from her sister?
"Arya… I'll… I'll tell you everything," Sansa started in a quavering voice." Just promise me that you won't tell the parents."
Staring at her with an expression of horror, Arya removed her hands from the front of her hoodie. "So you… you really did something…" she murmured in disbelief. For a short instant, she just stared at her in silence, yet soon, her curiosity got the better of her and she narrowed her eyed at Sansa. "But I… I don't understand. What in the Seven Hells could you ever have done to cause all of this?" she asked, growing agitated all over again.
"Promise me you won't tell first!" Sansa insisted, her pulse pounding in her ears.
Clearly ill-at-ease and a bit irritated as well, Arya agreed nonetheless. "Alright, I won't, but I may not have to! The psychic scent in here is strong!" she warned, pointing a finger at her.
Sansa bit at her lip, her worry suddenly too much to bear. "Oh gods, Arya! Is it really that bad? You'll help me with this, won't you?"
"With what? What is it that you did?" Arya cried out, losing her patience, which wasn't plentiful to begin with. Her face was all red and her brow furrowed.
Sansa breathed in deeply and looked down at her feet, oddly ashamed as the words finally came. "I… I summoned a demon."
"You what?!" Arya yelled at once. For a brief instant, she remained silent - clearly too stunned to speak - until the meaning of Sansa's admission truly dawned on her. "Oh, gods, Sansa…" she whispered, her face dropping. She looked like she was about to be sick, but Arya was too curious by nature not to ask questions. "And it… it worked?"
"What do you think?" Sansa replied, knitting her brow and waving around herself.
"Yeah, sorry, stupid question. Of course, it worked!" she said, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "That's the whole problem in fact… Oh, Sansa! Why… why would you ever do something like that? Don't you know how dangerous that sort of magic is?"
"Dangerous? Well, no… I mean, yes, I know it, of course! But I'm… I'm totally fine, don't you worry! Nothing bad has happened," she assured her, trying to sound as convincing as she could.
Wincing, Arya shook her head, clearly not buying any of it. As she did, her gaze was caught by Sansa's hand, still cradled against her chest, and she seized it and pulled at it.
"Shit!" she let out as she opened her fist and saw the ugly scar that crossed her palm. "Sansa… you really did this… That's insane… you're crazy…"
Sansa's heart was hammering so fast, she was starting to get dizzy. "How… how do you even know about that? That a witch has to cut her palm to achieve Evocation? I sure didn't know much at all about summoning devils before I've found that grimoire I used."
"It's just a subject I'm curious about," Arya explained, her stare fixed on Sansa's scar, examining it. "I've read about ancient and foreign magic a lot, went through so many of the old dusty books of the family's occult library. It interests me, but I would never, ever attempt something like what you did! That's just plain insane!"
Sansa wasn't sure what she should say to that. Suddenly, she wondered if Arya was right and that she was not crazy indeed. Her eyes filling with tears, she wrenched her hand free and hid it against herself.
Grimacing, Arya raised both of her palms to her face and rubbed it hard. "Seven Hells! So yeah, everything makes all too sense now: that strange psychic scent, the smell of smoke… it explains a lot." Her hands went down and she seemed nervous now. "You… you slept with the demon you summoned, did you?"
"Well, yeah, I did…" Sansa admitted as if it was nothing, a blush burning her cheeks. "It's part of that whole Evocation thing after all, as you apparently already know …"
Arya threw her head back and laughed, though she didn't sound happy at all. "Wow, well it wouldn't have worked if you hadn't, would it? And it did work; I can feel it in you. You're different. There's like this new strength bubbling in you, I should've noticed it before actually."
"You can feel it?" Sansa asked, her interest piqued.
"Of course I can! You can feel my strength, can you?" Arya told her, her face twisting in a sneer, same as if Sansa's question had been stupid. "One way or another, it doesn't change that what you did is cra-zy! To summon a devil and then let him screw you? That's some intense shit, Sansa!" she shouted, clearly still in shock. "You really wanted power, didn't you? To go to such length!"
Sansa didn't remember having ever been scolded by her sister, though the opposite had certainly happened quite a few times. It was a strange and unpleasant experience and soon, tears were welling so much in her eyes at that she was nearly rendered blind. She sniffed, abashed and yet the truth needed to come out. "I was just… just so tired of being inadequate. You don't know how it feels! You have Skill!" she let out bitterly, crying well and truly now. "You have Skill, but I have none – none at all! - no matter how hard I try…"
"Well, you're mistaken here. I do know very well how it feels to be inadequate," Arya retorted, crossing her arms before her chest. "I may have Skill and a talent for casting spells, that's apparently all I'm good at. You're the one who's an A grade student, who sings well, who's beautiful and elegant, -"
"But it's not the same at all! Those are all things you could work on!" Sansa pointed out. "You could be good at school if you put your heart into it and you're not ugly either, Arya! You just don't seem to care about your appearance and don't put any effort in it either. You never agree when I offer to show you how to apply makeup properly or to lend you some of my clothes. Unlike you, with no Skill, there was never any way I improved my Craft, no matter how hard I tried! I was stuck!"
"Not anymore, apparently. You did find a way to gain Skill after all …" Arya commented, eying her cynically.
"Exactly!" Sansa replied, drying her tears with the back of her hand. "This Evocation, it was the last hope I had of ever becoming a true witch… And it worked, Arya! It worked! The demon I summoned, he promised me he would help me become very powerful and this morning when I woke up, I indeed managed to weave my very first spells ever and remove the scorch marks there was on my chest of drawers, bed posts and writing dask, to repair my curtains and comforter. I even succeeded in healing the scratches I had and-'
"Your furniture caught fire?!" Arya cut her, jumping in place.
Somehow as she spoke, Sansa had not realised how bewildering her tale would be to her sister. "Well, yeah. I mean, I opened a breach between this world and the Seven Hells so it was to be expected, I guess," she replied uneasily. "My whole room caught aflame for a brief instant when the demon arrived. It was scary!"
"Wow, that's intense! No wonder it reeks of smoke so much! Good job on your spells, though you didn't do so well with that mean cut you have on your hand. It barely seems healed at all to me. I'll need to show you how to do it."
Without thinking, Sansa removed her hand from her chest and looked at her palm. The slash was an angry crimson and the skin around it a paler shade of red and swollen. It didn't look so good indeed. "I didn't think of heeling that one, don't know why. When I looked myself in the mirror this morning after I woke up and saw all the scratches I had on my skin, I just wanted to be rid of those. I emptied my whole well doing it."
"You had scratches? What the hells did that demon do to you?"
Sansa blushed deeply, embarrassed to have to share details of her previous night. "He did not do it on purpose, not really! It's just that… that he has claws. So, you know… in the heat of the moment…"
"He has claws? Eww, Sansa! That's gross!" Arya cried out, sticking her tongue out.
"Well he's a demon, Arya! He's not gonna look like you and me!"
Her features twisted in an expression of disgust, Arya snorted, clearly not convinced. "Does he have hooves too, and a tail and horns while we're at it?" she inquired mockingly.
"No tail and hooves - thankfully!" Sansa let out, glancing at the celling as if the thank the Seven. "But he… he does have horns and wings..."
That caught Arya's interest. "Wings? Can he fly?" she asked, all traces of revulsion vanishing from her face in a split second.
"I don't know, we just stayed in my room and I didn't ask him."
Disappointed, Arya frowned at her sister. "Remember to do it when you see him next. I'd really like to know." Then, her frown deepening, she went on: "What does he looks like apart from that?"
Sansa felt her face grow even warmer, but she answered nonetheless. "Well, he's quite impressive actually. I was really frightened when he first took form in my room! And was still when he left to be honest… He's really, really tall - like almost seven feet to be sure! - and sooo muscular, more than anyone I've ever met. His skin is grey and burning to the touch! His eyes are probably the strangest part of him, though. They have oblong pupils and glow in the darkness. It's very unsettling to look at them, I'll tell you that! His wings are membranous, like bat wings, huge and black. Oh, and he has that odd, very long tongue-"
"Eww, I think I've heard enough for now! Don't want to know where that was going…" Arya cut her. Grimacing, she shook her head. "Gods! He must be quite a fucking sight! And to think that you've always mooned over the most generic and boring pretty boys. I can hardly believe it! You've just lost your virginity to a monster! And now, you'll be bound to him forever, Sansa."
Sansa didn't add anything to that. She still had a hard time wrapping her head around the concept of it. It was all very abstract, impossible to grasp. Forever: what did that even mean?
"So, you said you wanted me to help you? What is it that you'd like me to do?" Arya demanded after a moment of silence.
"Oh yes, Arya! Please!" Sansa exclaimed, grabbing both of her sister's upper arms. Arya flinched, but she didn't attempt to take her distances. "You need to help me! We have to find a way to get rid of that smell and of the demon's psychic scent. I don't want the parents to find out what I did when they come back home tomorrow!"
Gazing at her like she was retarded, Arya burst out laughing. "How by the Stranger do you imagine you could ever hide something like that from people who live under the same bloody roof as you? The best we could do would be to keep it from them for a day or two at the very most, but even there, there's really no guarantee we'd succeed."
Sansa knew her sister was right, of course. She was no idiot; that scent the Hound exuded, it was far too strong to mask! He could only appear during nighttime and if Sansa was always home at night, so were her parents. There was no way they didn't feel his presence!
"Oh gods! You're right, I know it of course! But couldn't we at least try? I would rather not have to tell them right away. I'll take any delay you can offer! It'll give me time to gather my courage. Oh, please, Arya! Tell me you'll help me?" Sansa pleaded, tightening her fingers around her sister's upper arms.
Arya hesitated for a couple of seconds, but in the end, she gave in. "All right, I'll see what I can do. You'll owe me a favour though, you realise that? A really big one!"
Breathing a sigh of relief, Sansa threw her arms around her sister and hugged her, feeling her skinny frame grow stiff. "Oh, thank you, Arya! Thank you so much! Don't worry, you'll only have to ask when you'll need my help! I'll be there for you, whatever it is!" she promised.
For the following few hours, Arya weaved a number of spells. The first she cast was to eliminate the reek of smoke in the house. Then she carried on with all sorts of random, innocuous spells in the hope that such an abundance of magic would mask the Hound's psychic scent. Arya was clever, Sansa thought in a mix of envy and pride, because instead of emptying her well in order to achieve all of that, she tapped the energy that had been released with the Hound's arrival and trapped in the house afterwards and used it for her spells. By doing so, she solved two problems at once without using even a drop of her own power. That was ingenious, Sansa had to admit, and another proof of her sister's talent in Craft.
Later on, when barely any trace of the Hound's psychic scent was left in the air and the stench of smoke gone for good, both sisters sat on the couch together, drinking a glass of soda as they waited for the frozen pizza they had put in the oven for dinner to be cooked.
"Oh, bloody Hells! I can't do it," Arya groaned in frustration, releasing Sansa's hand. She had been attempting for the last few minutes to heal Sansa's cut but kept failing. "There's like some sort of shield around it, like it's been put there so that you keep your scar," she commented.
Looking at her palm, Sansa touched her scar delicately with her finger. It was still slightly sensitive and swollen. "The Hound licked it to stop the bleeding. You think it may be because of it?"
Arya grimaced, not bothering to hide her revulsion. "He licked it? No wonder he's called the Hound! But yeah, it's probably it. It would make sense if he wanted you to stay marked. That cut, it symbolised the offering you've made. He wants you to keep it."
Sansa nodded distractedly. "He did say I needed to be branded now that I think about it. I'll have to hide it. And I'll try to come up with a believable story, if ever the parents see it, or anyone at school."
"Mum and dad will notice it - it's inevitable! - but you may manage to conceal it for a time. One way or another, it's not like you'll be able to keep this summoning you did from them for very long. You do realise that from the instant your demon next appears in your bedroom, all of our good work will go to waste? Every one present in this house will sense his presence, there's absolutely no doubt in my mind about it. And if he comes tonight, well it won't leave us a lot of time to remove his psychic scent from the air. You'll need to stop him from visiting you for as long as you can if you truly wish to delay confronting the parents about it."
At a lost, Sansa gazed at her sister with wide eyes filled with worry. "How am I even supposed to do that, Arya? I have no clue at all!"
"Oh, gods, you really are starting from square one, are you?" Arya replied, rolling her eyes. "Well, I guess I'll have to teach you to shield yourself. It's magic 101 and can be very useful when you don't want to be bothered with the telepathic thoughts of others or stuff like that."
"Thank you, Arya! Yes! I certainly would like to learn that!" Sansa let out, utterly relieved that her sister had a solution to this fix. How very resourceful she was!
Waving her gratefulness with the back of her hand, Arya straightened her back and closed her eyes. "First, I advise that you shut your eyes to better focus on your spell," she started.
Sansa obeyed and waited for her to continue.
"Picture a huge brick wall, high and tall going all around you, and even over you like the roof of a castle, and then concentrate on the ball of energy there is in your core."
"Yes," Sansa said, feeling the strength in her flicker like fire.
"Tap that energy and visualise it going into your wall."
Sansa did as she was asked, her power flaring.
"Gods! Not so fast, you'll exhaust yourself! Stop it!" Arya ordered in near panic. She seized her sister's wrist and yanked at it, as if to wake her up.
Jumping in surprise, Sansa opened her eyes and released the hold she had on her spell. "Was it really that bad?" she asked, panting. She was feeling very tired indeed, she realised, and leaned into the couch.
"You're joking right? That was fucking intense, Sansa!" Arya said, laughing nervously. For a moment, she remained silent, staring at her in a strange mix of concern and wonder. "Your spell worked alright, though," she added. "Your shield is strong, very strong, but you've just managed to empty your well all over again in like two seconds! That's crazy and so bloody dangerous! You have a lot of power, probably too much for someone who never has had a drop of it and has no clue of how to use it. You just threw it all with no restraint whatsoever and wasted a whole bunch of it in the process! You'll need to learn to manage it. What you just did, it was just like if you tried to fill a shot glass with a firefighter hose opened to full pressure. Chances are, you'll end up breaking your glass instead of filling it! I think you'll be needing lessons from now on, a whole lot of them, and not just from me. There are limits to my knowledge in Craft."
Sansa grimaced. "Thank you, Arya. Thank you so much. You're the greatest!"
On that night, Sansa laid for a long time in her bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. It was eerily quiet in her room, but the silence did little to quell her nerves and she found herself unable to sleep. Every now and then, she would sense a strange pull inside of her and at times she even fancied she could smell the Hound's alien animalistic odour. Yet for all of that, her shield held up and no demon was to be seen. As Arya had taught her, every few hours Sansa visualised the imaginary brick wall she had built around herself and tapped additional energy into it. Following her sister's instruction, she was extremely careful not to use to much of it at a time, though such restraint required a control she still struggled to master.
Unbidden, images of her previous night kept coming back to her, of how restlessly the Hound had taken her till daybreak, of how much she had moaned and gasped in pleasure… It was degrading, the thought of how he had used his power to make her wanton and horny in order that she didn't resist as he subjected her to his most primal demonic urges. He had controlled and used her like she was a mere doll he could do whatever he willed with and satiated his every fancy with her without caring even one bit if it was something she truly wanted.
Sansa was disgusted and somewhat affronted… and yet… and yet as she remembered every detail of the night of debauchery she had spent with the Hound, she couldn't stop the warmth which was pooling down her lower belly from spreading. That she be aroused at the memory of it made little sense, still it took her every bit of self-will she had not to give in to the intent craving she had of touching herself.
With much effort, Sansa held on and, eventually after what seemed like many hours of tossing and turning into her bed, she fell asleep.
On the following day, Sansa's parents arrived back home in the early afternoon. From her room's window, Sansa watched them as they both stepped out of dad's gleaming, sober black car. Mum and dad walked toward the family's Victorian manor's doorway, Bran and Rickon running after them even as Sansa's heart beat a little faster in her chest with each step they took.
They entered the house and Arya rejoined them in the hallway to greet them. Wringing her hands, Sansa waited and listened, too nervous to face them just yet.
"Arya! Guess what we did this week end? Bran and me went rock climbing at the mountains by uncle Benjen's house! It was so cool, except Bran never waited after me!" Rickon nearly shouted as he entered.
"Pfff! That does sound like Bran!" Arya replied. "I'm glad to hear you had fun."
"Hey! It's not my fault if he's so slow!" Bran retorted
"Anyone's slow when climbing with you, Bran," Arya pointed out.
"Children! Won't you please stop bickering all the time?" mum said, not unkindly. She sighed audibly. "How was your week-end, Arya?"
"Fun! I went to Weasel's house. We watched horror movies and ate pop corn for dinner. We had a blast!" Arya replied with a bit too much enthusiasm.
Silence fell after that and Sansa could almost feel how mum's interest was suddenly piqued. She heard her sniff and swirl around.
"What's that? The air is thick and coppery. You've been quite active with your Craft practice, haven't you, Arya?"
"You're right, Cat. There's been a lot of activity in here," dad's deep voice came. He sounded suspicious, like he was suspecting Arya had misbehaved as she so often did.
"Well… I just… I just figured I could show a few tricks to… to Sansa," Arya admitted.
"To Sansa?" mum repeated, puzzled. "Why… why would you-"
There was no turning back now. Even as her sister spoke, Sansa strode down the grand staircase until she had rejoined her family in the hallway. Out of breath, she waved at everyone. "Hi, mum! Hi, dad!" she told them shyly. As always, both mum and dad were dressed in elegant yet practical, dark clothing.
"Good afternoon, Sansa. How are…" Mum frowned, pausing to look her over, her gaze going up and down her frame. She narrowed her eyed and took as couple of steps back, same as an artist taking some distance from their canvas to better assess it. Her face lit up. "Sansa… Am I not mistaken, or have you… have you…?"
Before Sansa could utter a single word, Arya interposed herself: "Yes, mum. It happened! Sansa… Sansa has blossomed… She has become a witch well and truly over the week-end!"
Her face burning in shame, Sansa watched as her mother's, bothers' and father's features all lite up. Everyone was ecstatic.
"Sansa! This is wonderful! You… your Skill has finally quickened! I'm so happy!" mum cried out, her eyes teary.
"Oh, honey, this is amazing!" dad exclaimed, his genuine expression of joy breaking her heart.
Rickon and Bran strode to her, smiling. "Yay! Now you'll be able to cast spells, just like Arya!" Rickon shouted. He always loved it when their sister weaved spells to amuse him, like when she controlled his action figures and orchestrated huge battles among them or made his bed levitate while he laid in it as she read him his bedtime story.
Sansa was uneasy and consumed with guilt. She felt as if she was lying to her family for they didn't know of the unorthodox way she had managed to win that new power she had, but for the moment, she couldn't find it in her to tell them the whole truth. They would learn of it soon enough anyhow.
"Yeah, I'm so happy!" Sansa said as enthusiastically as she could. "I've been praying for that moment for so long!"
"Didn't I tell you you didn't have to worry?" mum said with a large motherly smile. "For some women, power takes longer to arise. Though we tried to accept it, I've never genuinely believed you could be without Skill. For nearly a thousand years, there has never been a Tully or Stark women without Strength. It was just a question of time."
Sansa tried hard not to lose her smile at that. While it had certainly not been her intention, her mother's comment brought her to feel even more worthless. Gods, am I really such an exception? The only one so powerless in a thousand years? The only one who had to conjure a devil to gain strength…
Although it didn't stop her from feeling ashamed of her actions, in the end her mother's comment did comfort Sansa in her decision. There was no regretting having called forth the Hound, not in these conditions. Sandor, she remembered. That's how he wants me to call him. With their alliance, she would save face and not be that Stark. She wasn't sure how her parents would react when they'd learn of her Evocation. They wouldn't be pleased, that was a given, however, they would get used to the idea with time. It was not like they would have any other option anyway.
And with that, Sansa gulped and forced herself to grin. "Yes, mum, it was just a question of time," she agreed. Everything would be okay, she told herself as she wrapped her arms around he mother in a hug.