Sansa V
Family Comes First

"Will we be married soon or do we have to wait?" I asked my mother.

Mother met my eyes through the looking glass I was seated in front of. Her cool blues were darker in the light from the fireplace, more clouded in thought, her expression serious. "Your father hasn't even said yes yet," she told me.

We were discussing my betrothal to Prince Joffrey. As I suspected, King Robert had proposed the idea of uniting the Baratheon and Stark Houses hours earlier in the family crypt. Father then had discussed it with my mother and she subsequently has decided to discuss it with me before the feast.

"Do you think he'll say no?" I sat still as my mother proceeded to twist and braid strands of my auburn hair into one of the fancier Northern styles. It reminded me somewhat of the way nordic Vikings used to wear their hair. It was a bit too ostentatious for my taste, but nowhere near as elaborate an updo as Queen Cersei wore from the South.

"Well, he'd have to leave home," she said, her expression growing grimmer at the thought. "He'd have to leave me...and so would you."

"You left your home to come here," I countered, "and I would be queen someday, which would make father the second most powerful man in the kingdoms. Most lords wouldn't pass up that opportunity."

Catelyn begrudgingly conceded that point, "Although that may be true, your father isn't most lords. He wouldn't sell his daughters for a crown."

"Because he's an honorable man?" I asked.

"Yes."

Honor… I scoffed at that word. Honor was simply nothing more than a kinder word for pride. It meant little to me. It was only a means for other more seemingly 'virtuous' persons to lord their superiority over those they consider lesser. I've never been much one for pride in any form. No, I have other vices.

"Honorable men are loyal, yes?" I reasoned. Mother nodded. "Then wouldn't father be loyal to his friend? If King Robert desperately needs father to be Hand of the King, do you really think he'd decline? Have you ever known him to say no to King Robert?"

"Pass me that cord, Sansa," Mother held out her hand for a strip of brown leather cord. I picked one off vanity table and hand it back. She tied the end of my braid with it and let it fall down my back, then taking more strands from the opposite side of my head, she began to braid again as she spoke. "Your father's first loyalty is to his family."

"Then why are we having this conversation?" I wondered.

"I wanted to hear your thoughts on it," she told me. There was a sharp pain at my scalp as she pulled my hair tighter in her fingers. "Your father wouldn't sell you off to a prince, even if it was requested by his friend, by his king, if you didn't want this. Do you want this, Sansa?"

It seems I've reached a moral dilemma. Do I tell her the truth or do I lie? I didn't say anything immediately. There were certain advantages to be sure that would arise from this match. The main one being that I would be more or less a princess and later when King Robert passed and Prince Joffrey inherited the crown, a queen. I knew that royalty had more freedoms than nonroyalty, that as a woman I wouldn't be nearly as limited as I am here. I would be able to finally leave Winterfell after years of requesting to go and see other communities in the North. Robb was often allowed, encouraged, and even forced to travel to the various castles for diplomatic meetings with the other Lords and Ladies of the North—it was his duty as heir to Winterfell. I, however, had never been allowed to accompany my father and brother. Mother said that a Lady's place was at home managing the household. And as a Northern Lady, I was expected to serve as nothing more than a glorified steward when my husband was away.

I was barely even allowed to go into the village of Wintertown. Except for festivals and such, and even then I was still accompanied by a handful or so of my father's guard and my siblings. I had more or less accepted this life of confinement within these castle walls. But I wished for more freedom to do as I pleased.

Marrying the prince would certainly be a way to get it, I suppose, and yet the prospect of having to marry in order to escape this place was dismal. Should I really trade one jailer for another? Would that be beneficial in the long term?

Can Prince Joffrey be trusted? Certainly not. No one can be. But can he be managed? Possibly.

"I'm not entirely sure. Prince Joffrey is a stranger to me." I decided to go with the truth. After all, it was best that I didn't sound too eager least my mother suspects me up to something. "He's rather good looking and when I talked to him he was pleasant, but… Well, first impressions," I said, "aren't really good indicators of a man's character, I'd say. Not to mention whether or not he'd be a good husband and I'm more worried he'd be like his father. I heard King Robert fathered a bastard at half the brothels in King's Landing—"

My mother's expression soured instantly and she stared me down through the looking glass. "Who told you that?" She asked, or more demanded.

"Theon," I said. There was no point in lying. It wasn't my hide that was going to be tanned.

"That boy…" Catelyn hissed under her breath, looking extremely displeased. "Sansa those are rumors."

"Rumors have merit sometimes," I rebutted her simply, intentionally playing the devil's advocate. "And can you really say that King Robert and Queen Cersei look happy together? I saw them today. I saw how she was ignored. What if, once we're married, Joffrey won't like me anymore? What if he'll think I'm ugly after I give him sons? What if he thinks I'm ugly now?"

My mother scoffed,"Then he would be the stupidest prince that ever lived." An affront to my beauty was also an affront to hers it seemed. I couldn't allow my mother to get too worked up, however, as that would be detrimental to my plans. I wanted my parents to be suspicious enough of this betrothal to create an easy escape should things go south, but not suspicious to the point that they wouldn't allow the betrothal to begin with. In this way, I'd be preparing myself for the worst depending on the kind of person Prince Joffrey was and I'd still manage to get myself to the capital.

Once there, I'd be able to network with other Lords and Ladies of prominent families. If this betrothal didn't play out and I manipulated things just so, I might be able to convince my father to let me fostered with one of the other Houses in the South. The Hightowers would be ideal in Old Town and close to the Citadel. I would be able to sneak away and visit the place and study the extensive collection of volumes there. Though I was under no misconception, things rarely worked out ideally, so as a backup I thought that the Martells of Dorne, with their cultural liberalism and progressive ideas on the treatment of women, would be a fine second choice.

"How old were you when you married father?" I asked suddenly, switching subjects to distract her. "It was an arranged marriage wasn't it?"

"Yes. Originally, my intended was going to be your Uncle Brandon, however, he died as you well know." My mother didn't seem to suspect the sudden change in topic. I watched her cautious of how her eyes darken and fell closed at her words. She took a moment to collect herself and said, "We had brief courtship before his death and I fell in love with him, madly, the way girls often fall in love with a handsome boy. When he died I was devastated and I wept for weeks."

"What was he like?" I was curious. No one ever spoke about Uncle Brandon or Grandfather beyond the facts of their death. I heard stories from Old Nan of Uncle Brandon as a boy when she'd confuse Bran for him, but otherwise nothing. It seemed, at least to me, that people avoided speaking of the ghosts that haunted Winterfell either for fear of being haunted themselves or respect for Lord and Lady Stark and oftentimes both. People as a whole were much more superstitious in this world, thus the dead and any subject pertaining to death wasn't discussed.

I found that out the hard way when I scribbled down a verse poem of Emily Dickenson during my lessons.

Because I could not stop for death,

He kindly stopped for me.

The carriage held just ourselves

And immortality.

Maester Luwin's reaction to it was less than encouraging. "Young children shouldn't write such dark poems," he had said.

The question brought a small smile to the corners of Catelyn's mouth. "He wasn't shy like your father," she told me. "He was passionate, some would've called him hot-blooded, and when he wanted something he pursued it until he got it."

"Sound like quite a man," I said.

Mother nodded in agreement. "The first time I saw him was at a tourney at Harrenhal. Your uncle was an excellent jouster and even at such a young age, people often compared him to a centaur, however, he lost that tourney to Rhaegar Targaryen. I remember he was furious when the prince crowned your Aunt Lyanna as his queen of love and beauty, passing over his own wife, Princess Elia. He jumped to defend her honor as any good brother would. It was only later at Riverrun that I learned we were to be married."

I have heard that story before in my history lessons with the maester. I didn't know my mother had been there. But something else she said stood out to me as well. "So Uncle Brandon was an arranged marriage too?"

"Yes. House Tully has a long history of political marriages," she said stretching her hand out for another cord, which I gave her. "It was expected of me and your Aunt Lysa."

"I see. Then what happened? You didn't marry Uncle Brandon?"

"I never got the chance," Catelyn shook her head. "Prince Rhaegar stole Lyanna Stark and Robert Baratheon, your uncle, your father, and your grandfather started a war to get her back. He promised me we'd be wed after he got back from the war, although he never came back and I was wed to your father instead."

War really is terrible, isn't it? I myself didn't look kindly on war which was together unproductive and wasteful. I found it inherently intolerable. Although, I consider myself fortunate to have been born into this world when I was. Robert's Rebellion sounded awful from all accounts. It completely ripped the country apart and overhauled the government. No doubt if I had been an infant during such a time, I likely wouldn't have lived long. Now the country of Westeros was in a period of relative peace and had been for the past seventeen years. I'm wondering why Terry decided to put me in this world at this time… Surely, there has to be a catch, right? As a rule of thumb, if something is too good to be true, it likely is.

"That must've been hard," I said. "How old were you?"

"I was twelve when I was betrothed to Brandon—"

Shit. Twelve? Are you kidding me? That's a literal child. I found myself disgusted yet again at this world and its treatment of women and children. How can you call a world like this just?

"—however I didn't marry your father until I was sixteen. We didn't love each other at first. In fact, our first years together were rather turbulent—

I suppose I have no place to judge. I am only thirteen. Not even a woman, by societal standards, because I haven't had my blood yet—Fuck, I was not looking forward to that. I didn't have those problems in my past life.

Mother let the next braid fall against my back bring me back to the subject at hand. "Marriage is not like the stories, Sansa," she said, her voice as grim as her eyes. "Some couples don't immediately love each other. It takes effort, lots of effort, and time for love to grow in a marriage."

"Do you ever wish things had gone differently; that you had married Brandon instead of father?"

"No." Mother's answer was instant, firm and unchanging. "If I had married Brandon Stark, then I wouldn't have had you or your siblings. And I wouldn't trade any of you for anything."

Still…

Catelyn stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders. She was smiling now, a loving mother's smile. Tatianna never smiled at me like that as far as I remembered. It was strange seeing a smile like that. There were times when I wondered whether or not it was a lie on Catelyn's part. Was she really happy with the life she lives? Or is she lying to herself because the truth would hurt far too much?

I didn't know the answer. Although I wasn't deluding myself into thinking she actually cared about me. She didn't even know me. No one did. She only saw Sansa, her sweet, young, intelligent daughter. I was more than just Sansa. I was more than this life—and yet, no one would ever know that.

Sometimes the world felt to me like I was a person standing in a pond of goldfish. The fish swam around my ankles, under the water, unable to see what lay beyond their pond. But I saw it. I knew what lay beyond. It was a sea of goldfish ponds; each one small, insignificant, and indistinguishable from the rest. I wonder what the point of life is if it all just repeats? Why bother living? For what purpose should someone even try?

I had no answer. I doubt I ever will. Catelyn's hand was warm under my own. I had to look away and collect myself. "I think—" I paused searching for the right words. "I think I'd like to try to love Prince Joffrey. I think I could if father agreed to the betrothal. We may not get a better offer for my marriage. We should take it."

Mother nodded in understanding. "If that's what you think, I'll tell your father," she said. "Ultimately it's his decision."

"I know this is difficult for you, mother. Thank you." I turned in my chair and smiled up at her.

"You've grown up to be such a kind beautiful, intelligent girl. I'm proud of you Sansa and the person you're growing to be." She stroked my face tenderly with her thumb. "You'll make a fine queen someday."

"You really think so?"

"There's no doubt in my mind. You'd be the Good Queen Alysanne reborn."

I laughed. What a ridiculous notion. The Good Queen Alysanne? Really? I was hardly that good of a person to be compared to one of the most beloved queens of all time. I wouldn't grow to be someone who was beloved in this world. Feared? Yes. But beloved, my mind has been too warped for that.

"Sometimes I worry you put me on a pedestal," I said. "You really shouldn't though. I'm going to disappoint you eventually."

Catelyn frowned. "Where ever did you get that idea?" She asked. "Sansa, you could never disappoint me. You're my daughter. I'll love you no matter what."

"Family, duty, honor," I said. "Family comes first."

"Family comes first," she agreed.