A Holiday by Decree
~~ Day 8 ~~
Sansa's breath was taken away at the sight of the paper in her hands.
She had thought that Tyrion had been drawing the pigeon in her lap; instead, gifted with his work and now back in her room with it, her eyes roamed over the image he had captured of herself.
There was a light sketchiness to Tyrion's style, and he had offered that he had not used much shading. (It's just a sketch, he had seemed eager to say.) However, the attention to detail in the strokes on the page, particularly around her eyes, nose and mouth transfixed Sansa. There was a tenderness to the lines that brought a rare, relaxed softness to her likeness. Tyrion had captured her accurately while showing a side of Sansa that she couldn't easily define… or perhaps had even doubted existed.
It wasn't that she didn't know she was pretty. Sansa knew from her youth that she was a classic "Northern" beauty: pale complexion; wild, fire-kissed tresses; cool, ice blue eyes; and otherwise delicate features. Going South at a young age had taught her to be more self-conscious and envious of women with curvier features and perfectly tamed hair. Yet, now she saw that Tyrion's image of her had brought out a roundness to her gently smiling lips, a fullness to her eyelashes, and a softness to her hair Sansa apparently took for granted. When Sansa's eyes traveled lower, she also could not help but notice the way he had found the curves of her exposed collar bone. Light shadows even defined the modest swell of her breasts beneath the fabric of her dress –
A chill ran down her spine, as Sansa realized: she had not believed that anyone could still so casually see her in a light that looked so… desirable.
And yet, here was Tyrion's drawing.
She only put the paper down when a knock came at her door, announcing the arrival of her maid.
:
Dressing for the pool had been an agony for Sansa. Any good feelings that she had developed admiring Tyrion's drawing felt nearly depleted by the effort.
It had taken a long time to find anything among Daenerys' waterwear that Sansa was even willing to try on. A dusky blue piece with a mid-thigh skirt and a large bow that tied around the dipped back paired with a short, decorative light lace poncho had seemed like it might be alright…
Relying on the bow at the back had already made Sansa nervous, but upon seeing the dark scars slicing down the backs and insides of her thighs past the skirt's hem, she had regrets immediately; fortunately, Hirat was ready, so Sansa could strip and quickly cover up again in her nightgown.
At last, they came upon a combination that Sansa felt reasonably secure in: a pair of brown, ankle-length lounge pants and the most opaque chemise blouse and camisole in Daenerys' wardrobe.
When Sansa finally headed for the pool, she tried her best to hide her nerves.
:::
Note: I admit, I don't know what swimwear like the ultra-wealthy might own in the age and setting of GOT would be but hope this AU and our imaginations are enough to support it for the sake of this little fic.