SANSA STARK
Day 15, 10th Moon, 275 AC
Through Riverrun's baileys, inner gatehouse, and entering the keep, Sansa followed Lady Minisa, who carried a small Edmure on her hip. After a few minutes, they reached a nursery. In the corner of a decorated chamber sat a collection of toys. Positioned against the wall stood a cot with many painted trout.
Lady Minisa approached it and lowered Edmure with care. "There we go, my little lord," she whispered to him and stroked his side with a gentle hand. She looked at Sansa. "Cat, could you close the curtains please?"
Obedient, Sansa pulled the curtains together, plunging the nursery and everyone into darkness. Despite the morning sun, Edmure would easily sleep. A tiny yawn filled the nursery, that of an innocent - untarnished by the world. Beside the cot, Lady Minisa murmured, but it was too soft for Sansa.
She was in Westeros, at Riverrun. Inside its very walls. The Tully features of her appearance would make it near impossible to dispute that the blood of this House ran through her veins. Sansa's heart quickened. She must prove she belonged here.
By the curtains, she took a breath and sighed. Lies won't help me succeed here. Inevitably, I'd forget part of a lie. One mistake and my chance will disappear. "My Lady Tully. I am not Catelyn." Quiet steps neared her. She braced herself and continued. "I admit we share many similari-"
A thumb stroked her shoulder, and rested there. "I know. Catelyn was with Lysa and Petyr near the bridge. You're Sansa, aren't you?"
"I am, my lady," She released a quiet breath. "Though why did you speak to Ser Brynden as if I was your daughter?" In the dark, she wetted her lips and dared to relax slightly. If Grandmother Tully behaved receptive to her presence, Sansa might have a chance.
Lady Minisa guided her from the window. "We'll speak of that soon. Winter has begun to thaw, and you're freezing from the river. Come with me, child," Lady Minisa said and led her to the door. "For now, I'll call you 'Catelyn' in the halls."
With a nod, she followed Grandmother past a few doors and into a feminine solar, through to a spacious bedchamber. Sansa's eyes landed on a steaming tub. She turned to Lady Minisa. "Do you wish for me to assist, my lady?" The Red Fork was an accident, thus the tub prepared for someone else.
Lady Minisa lightly smiled and shook her head. "Unless you bathe, Sansa, you could fall ill," the lady said, setting a stool beside the tub. "It's important we speak and soon. My bathing can wait." Lady Minisa sat with her back somewhat to Sansa. "Just let me know when you're in," she said, rubbing idle circles on her swollen belly.
After subtly hiding her knives, Sansa unlaced and slipped off her mummer's gown. Climbing in, the steamy water shocked her skin; almost burning. After a few paced breaths, Sansa relaxed against the side. "This is very kind of you, my lady. Thank you." Arms crossed, she gazed at the water but glanced over her shoulder to Grandmother.
Lady Minisa's eyes gently observed her. "Your colouring is Tully, and your face is akin to my own – Whent. Yet Hoster and I aren't your parents," she said, her brown eyes watching her. "Who are they, truly?"
She sighed. Honesty would confuse her grandmother, no doubt, but she needed to prove herself trustworthy. A single straightforward answer was blunt, but better than confusion and half-answers. After a glance at the closed door her courage grew, and she met Lady Minisa's eyes. "My mother's blood was Tully and Whent, my lady. And my father's blood, on both sides, was Stark."
Sansa kept silent and held her gaze with Riverrun's Lady. The woman's eyebrows furrowed; hand fiddling with her skirts. "Such information suggests…." She lifted a hand towards Sansa's face and hesitated, but Sansa rested her cheek against the palm. "My face; Catelyn's; and yours. And 'Sansa' is a Northern name." Lady Minisa released a prolonged sigh. She shook her head with a baffled expression.
"My lady?" Sansa asked, straightening up. "I don't deny this is peculiar-"
A finger rested on her lips. It moved away, and those brown eyes met Sansa's blue. "Hush, child. My eyes see what they see. A girl near-identical to our eldest, but fairer skin. Your likeness is impossible without both mine and Hoster's blood, or the will of the Gods. Mayhaps both." Fingers ran through Sansa's hair, and Lady Minisa sighed. "A more vibrant red. Otherwise, you look so much like my Catelyn."
Sansa's eyes lulled closed when a gentle touch brushed through her hair. Never had she met either of her grandmothers, so relished the warm moment. She blinked and turned to Grandmother at a thought on how welcoming she acted.
"Tully eyes. Tully blue," Lady Minisa whispered, a wistful tone with a hint of sadness. "It's no wonder you came to Riverrun...Am I wrong that you're roughly one-and-ten?"
"I am," she said, withholding her mental age of twenty-six. "My lady, what do you believe will happen to me? Lord Tully has undoubtedly heard about this morning's incident."
Lady Minisa smiled and ran her fingers through Sansa's hair, leaving a sigh on the edge of Sansa's lips. "He will want to speak with me if I know my husband. Much needs to be discussed. Right now, I have no answer," Lady Minisa said. Warm water ran down Sansa's back. "Could you answer two questions before I wash your hair? I need time to think about this."
The need for time hadn't surprised Sansa. "Of course, my lady." She turned in the water and met Grandmother's eyes again. "What do you wish to ask?"
"If you are who you imply, at what age was your mother betrothed and to whom?"
Sansa kept her eyes on Lady Minisa's brown. "She was betrothed to Brandon Stark when she was two-and-ten, my lady." A true fact. Yet, tempted as she was, Sansa couldn't divulge that Eddard Stark fathered her, instead of her uncle, Brandon. The risk of broaching what caused that to happen outweighed any benefit. Most likely, they'd believe she had a wild imagination. Mayhaps even turn her away.
With a breath, Lady Minisa nodded, tucking a wet lock behind Sansa's ear. "Sansa, did you come here in want of a home and family?" she asked with a bottle in her lap. "Should this be true, do you understand what you must give up if you're to stay at Riverrun?"
She nodded to the woman stroking her hair. "Yes, I do," Sansa said solemnly. "And, my lady, I've made my peace with it. No one knows me, and I must interact as if I don't either." She turned away and stared at the water.
Behind her came a sigh of pity. "There's more to it than that, Sansa." A light grasp gathered her hair, water dripping onto her neck. "If you're truly who you claim to be, you need to understand you must let go completely. A new life starts with a new canvas. Blank. Everything from before is distant memories." A hand rested on her shoulder. "It's a difficult thing to accept, but the sooner you do, the better off you will be." The hand gave a light squeeze. "I'm sorry."
Sansa's nod was slight, so her hair wouldn't pull. A hand tilted her chin up, and warm water poured through her hair. "I know, my lady."
"Minisa," the woman whispered, guiding Sansa to standing and placed an opened towel in her hands. The lady turned her back to Sansa, who got out of the tub and dried off.
For lack of anything clean to wear, she wrapped herself in the towel and stood beside the tub. "Pardon?" she asked and approached her seated grandmother.
Lady Minisa turned on the stool and met her gaze with a soft expression. "Call me 'Minisa' in private," she said, and stood with a hand hovering above Sansa's shoulder. "May I, Sansa?"
When she nodded consent, Minisa lowered her hand and stroked Sansa's shoulder with an idle thumb. The peculiar behaviour and request stirred her curiosity. And the earlier wistful, pained whisper earlier about Sansa's Tully blue eyes left her pondering what that meant.
One thing was certain. She needed to persuade House Tully to accept her, and Grandmother could be her chance to improve her odds. Was her warmth towards me influenced by my resemblance to Mother? Or was Lady Minisa acting affectionate because she's heavy with child? Why is she being so kind?
Sansa shook off her thoughts and spoke. "Minisa. I'm honestly curious. Why do you ask that I call you by your name?"
Gently, Minisa took Sansa's within her own. "Deep down, I'm conflicted when you're formal towards me. I suspect I'd feel the same if Catelyn or Lysa were to call me 'my lady'." With a guiding hand, Minisa sat Sansa down at the vanity. "Could you pass me the brush?"
She obeyed. "I don't understand. You know so little about me," she said, looking her in the eyes. "And you've already been rather accommodating, Minisa. You gave up your own bath."
The brush ran through her hair, and in the looking glass Minisa gazed at it. Stroke by stroke, it neatened until it shined. "That's true, but I have my reasons, Sansa. As for my bath, it was only right. The river would undoubtedly have been freezing, you were soaked to the bone," Grandmother said, handing the brush to her.
Sansa placed the brush down and turned, giving a smile. "Thank you for your kindness."
Minisa brought Sansa to standing and led her to a wardrobe. Inside hung a variety of dresses for a woman, but Minisa reached in and pulled forth an outfit made for a child. "When I heard Catelyn had fallen into the Red Fork, I knew she would need a warm bath to fight off the chill of winter's ending. So I got this. It should fit you, Sansa," Minisa said and gave her a dress in Tully colours.
The dress in Sansa's hands laced at the back, unlike those she'd made with laces at the front so she could dress herself. Such luxuries as smallfolk were unavailable for Sansa in Braavos, so she'd needed an alternative. Nonetheless, she was grateful for Minisa's care, despite her effectively being a complete stranger. "Thank you, Minisa," she said, the dress and smallclothes within her arms.
Minisa smiled and thumbed Sansa's shoulder. "I'll give you some privacy and wait in the Lady's solar," she said, a slow walk to the door. "Just call when you need me for the laces. Catelyn would be doing Riverrun's ledgers now, so call for her if I've left."
"I will."
Minisa made to grab the handle but stopped to turn to Sansa. "I ask only you say nothing about why you're here or who you are. I don't want my family frightened with gossip of magic. Even my husband."
"I promise, Minisa."
In the Eyrie, she'd lived as Alayne Stone. Littlefinger's bastard daughter. If rumours of her being a Tully bastard developed here, and she was turned away from Riverrun, it will impact, or at least limit, her abilities in Dorne to change the future through the Martell family. Princess Elia had been the wife of faithless Rhaegar last time. Endear herself to Princess Elia, and she'd have a chance of success.
Minisa smiled. "I only want to keep my family safe, Sansa. I ask you claim you were raised and told you are my trueborn daughter; it's more believable. The request isn't to make things more difficult for you."
"Family. Duty. Honour," Sansa said. With a glance at the door, she moved away so no one would see her when it opened.
Minisa chuckled at her words. "Just so. When Catelyn finishes in the Lady's solar, tell her you're both to go to the Lord's solar." When she nodded, Minisa left, closing the bedchamber door quietly.
This dress was made for everyday use, instead of the presence of lords, but Sansa cared more that she had something for now. Although not a mummer's gown that could conceal her knives, she made do with this and strapped all three knives to her legs under the shift. With no valuable possessions except for the steel of Dusk, Sansa wanted to keep anything of little or much value close.
Without tarrying, she dressed but needed someone for the laces at the back. Inside the Lady's solar, a girl sat alone at the desk and writing on parchment.
"Lady Catelyn?" Sansa said with her eyes on the child version of who'd been her mother. Almost a reflection of Sansa herself.
The girl looked up and set the quill down. "It's Sansa, isn't it?" she asked and stood. Sansa nodded. "My mother said you would need help with laces."
"I do." She stepped aside within the bedchamber.
At the looking glass with Catelyn behind pulling the dress laces, choices flooded Sansa. She'd been told by Minisa not to say a word regarding her identity. Sparking a conversation would stir curiosity within Catelyn.
Catelyn walked to Sansa's side and stared into the looking glass, frowning. "Turn to me."
Wary of what could happen, she spoke not a word and obliged Catelyn. A mouth kept shut was best for Sansa right now, so she watched what the other girl did, specifically the eyes. They darted between Sansa's hair and face. Catelyn pursed her lips.
"A little younger than me, but much older than Lysa," Catelyn said; her eyes met Sansa's and narrowed. "You're a bastard, aren't you?"
Coldness engulfed Sansa as though she'd fallen into the freezing Red Fork all over again. If this is how Jon felt before joining the Night's Watch, she couldn't blame his decision. Maintaining the eye-contact, Sansa kept herself tall. To anticipate was one thing; to hear the words uttered was another. Those words delivered by her former mother sapped Sansa's hope for a good start.
"I take it you've finished the ledgers, Lady Catelyn?" Sansa asked, turning her attention to the looking glass, and did a thin braid on either side that met behind her head. The rest cascaded down her shoulders and back. Simple, elegant and done in moments with enough experience. She turned to Catelyn, who scowled.
"Yes. Follow me."
Catelyn strode out of the Lady's bedchamber and through the solar without pause. In moments they stood outside an ornate door; at least two, mayhaps three people were inside if one was silent. The adults of House Tully. Sansa had met two of them with yet to meet Lord Hoster Tully. The voices were muffled.
"Brynden. Minisa. Enough," said a male voice with authority. Presumably Lord Tully.
Sansa refused to take a bracing breath in front of Catelyn after their cold conversation. To look weak and unsure would encourage Catelyn to believe Sansa was a bastard, despite how close to the truth that might as well be.
Catelyn knocked.
"Come in," called the same man.
Catelyn opened the door and entered first. Going in herself, Sansa cast her eyes around the solar. They landed on Minisa, who gave her a small smile.
On the other side of the desk sat a man she'd never met, and like Minisa, his hair was brown. Also here, but auburn hair like Catelyn and Sansa sat the first Tully she'd met in this life; Uncle Brynden with a sour look. The brunette man watched her. He was likely her grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully.
However, unless Minisa had told him, he was unaware of his relation to her. This made another instance of Sansa jumping from one circumstance to another, leaving her forced to cooperate no matter what. She'd lived a pawn's life under Cersei, and later Littlefinger, but such a position wouldn't help her. She needed the best outcome possible; she must be 'Tully', not 'Rivers'. At court, the difference was everything.
Tullys weren't the descendants of kings like House Stark. However, to have the Tully name, she would be more valuable in the eyes of Westeros; a lord paramount's trueborn daughter. She must pursue it relentlessly, but appeal to Lord Tully with good manners.
Within the space between comfortable seating and the desk, she curtsied deeply to the grandfather she'd never met. "My Lord Tully." To dare to be presumptuous and call him 'Father' equalled a step in the wrong direction. Behaviour beyond reproach was essential right now. She turned towards Minisa and curtsied again. "My Lady Tully. I apologise for the inconveniences I have caused you."
Minisa shook her head and gave a smile from where she sat beside Lord Hoster. "There's nothing to forgive, Sansa," she said. "Catelyn, Sansa. Make yourselves comfortable." The Lady of Riverrun exchanged a look with its lord, silent words between them.
Sansa, beside Catelyn, met the gaze of who would decide her position or if she should have one. "My Lord Tully, you wished to see me?"
Lord Hoster nodded and rested his chin on raised wrists, eyes going between Minisa, Catelyn and Sansa. The Lord's face gave only calm; his eyes repeated the cycle once more. He lowered his hands onto the desk. "I did, Sansa," he said thoughtfully. "You finally sit before me beside your older twin sister; Catelyn. A closer likeness than I'd believed at Harrenhal. Sansa, now that you're hale and healthy, Westeros shall learn of my and my wife's surviving twin daughter."
Her heart raced at the implications. Twin daughter? Trueborn daughter?
Uncle Brynden's face pinched minutely, but Sansa returned her attention to Lord Hoster and gave a demure nod. Lord Hoster had spoken no questions. Simply told her what would be.
He straightened in his seat and held Sansa's gaze. "We're sorry we sent you to Harrenhal since you were a babe, Sansa, but I had to protect your mother and twin sister from ailments. I know my visits were short, but I came when possible. Your mother and I are relieved your overlong fight against illness has finally ended. That you're safely home. Tullys belong with their family."
Seizing the story, Sansa cooperated and bowed her head. "I understand, Father. When the maester said my health had grown strong enough, it joyed me to know I could come here...Come home."
Beside Sansa came two rustles of fabric. Catelyn and Uncle Brynden, the latter's lips tight and his eyes boring into hers.
"Catelyn," Lord Hoster said. "Shortly after both of you were brought into the world, Sansa was raised away from Riverrun. To have a babe who kept falling ill, as well as your mother, was too dangerous for you as Sansa's twin. I couldn't risk it. It was for the safety of you and your mother that I sent your sister away."
Sansa turned to her side. Catelyn's wide-eyed stare changed to uncomfortable and tinged with suspicion. Refusing to let it bother her, Sansa gave her new father her full attention. It was foolishness if she though of him as 'Grandfather' in her mind, when she'd be calling him 'Father'. She couldn't risk behaving similarly with anyone else. A disaster needed but one mistake.
To survive, it was vital she used 'Mother' and 'Father' as if she genuinely was their daughter. She'd done the same as Alayne Stone; called Littlefinger 'Father'. She could do it. The difference this time was that she'd address her grandparents as her actual parents, a more personal matter than parading in the Vale as Alayne Stone.
"Sansa," Father said. "Your mother and I never told anyone about you because you were so sickly. Westeros will learn about you. However, until they've accepted the truth, you will remain inside Riverrun. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Father. It is."
He nodded. "The Citadel and Great Houses of Westeros will hear about your survival; a sickly babe sent to a trusted healer in Harrenhal to protect your mother and older twin sister. Now, you're finally hale and healthy. Reunited with us."
Sansa met his eyes. "Thank you for visiting and not casting me aside, Father. I apologise that my words are so few."
He dismissed her apology with a slight wave. "You are a twin daughter of your mother and me. You will act with decorum as I have seen, and in no instance will you dress to a lesser standard than you are here in my solar. It is no less than I expect from your sisters, Catelyn and Lysa," he told her and approached. The man's hand rested on her shoulder. "There will be a ceremony of the seven oils in the sept on the morrow."
"Yes, Father," Sansa promised, brimming with joy. "I shall bring no shame to our House."
Catelyn's breathing faltered, and Sansa turned to her. "What of Lysa, Father? You'd let this girl usurp her as your second child?"
"Catelyn," Father scolded. "Lysa loses nothing. Sansa is your younger twin but raised at your grandfather's castle."
Mother rose from beside Father, approached her and led her out the solar. "You needn't hear this, Sansa. I apologise for her behaviour."
"It was to be expected, Mother. I am suddenly changing matters regarding her family from her view," Sansa said. Catelyn's words had stung, and she did her best to brush them off. "To imagine I would be accepted here without resistance from anyone is but a fool's belief. I know what was truly said within that solar. Uncle Brynden is not in favour of this either."
Minisa nodded at her words. "You're not a stupid girl, Sansa. You understand at least this much about the world." Mother stepped back and took a complete look at her. "I know the story is a falsehood; your father and I agreed to it. My father in Harrenhal will learn it as well." Hands slow, Mother fiddled with Sansa's loose locks. "For the life of me, when I look at you, my heart and eyes tell me the story could very well be true. To me, you are my daughter; turning two-and-ten with your twin sister in a few moons."
A hesitant smile emerged, and her cheeks warmed. "Fifth day of First moon," she murmured, earning a smile from Mother. "Mayhaps your babe is making you overly emotional, Mother?" she said, walking beside the woman down the hall.
Ahead, Oberyn Martell watched both of them, and she gave him a nod of acknowledgement. He didn't respond in kind. His face solemn, and his eyes fixed on Minisa Tully but left with quick strides.
"But thank you," she finished, perplexed by Prince Oberyn's behaviour.
"Mayhaps, Sansa. Mayhaps, yet such likeness...Please don't take Brynden's bitterness to heart if you can. Every time I'm with child, he channels his regrets behind your father's back, yet he refuses to marry any suggested vassal."
Mother ran a hand along her arm, and Sansa nodded. "I can handle it."
"You shouldn't have to." Within a chamber came the giggles of a little boy, and they entered. The walls were filled with books; a table in the centre, but in a corner, Edmure played with toys. "I thought I put you to bed, lordling," Mother scolded and picked him up. The toddler snuggled against her. "Let's get you back in it."
A yank of Sansa's hair made her yelp. Giggles filled the library.
From a seat, a male chuckle came from a corner. Prince Oberyn Martell had multiple books on his end of the table while sitting in a comfortable chair against the wall. In his lap sat an open book. Beside him on a small table sat ink, parchment and a quill. "The mischief of babes," Oberyn said with a quirked smile.
A soft hand stroked her head, and she turned so she could see, although it was likely Mother's; it was. "Sansa, are you alright?"
She nodded. "I will be, Mother."
Mother gave a sympathetic smile. "I'll put Edmure in bed, and hopefully, he stays in it." Sansa's new mother turned to Prince Oberyn. "What was he doing in here?"
From where he sat, Oberyn shrugged. "Your youngest brought him here, I assume. Lady Lysa was leaving when I came."
With a nod, Mother walked away with Edmure. "Let's get you back in bed, lordling."
Soon they were out of sight, which left Sansa and Oberyn alone in the library. At the central table, Sansa read the book titles. "Warcraft; Healing; Governance; Higher Mysteries; Dark Arts," she rattled off and looked at the next book with mirth. "I hadn't considered you to be a person with interest in books, Oberyn," she said, meeting his eyes. "Poisons. Well, you would not be the Red Viper without knowledge on poison."
"Indeed not," he chuckled, the feather of his quill brushed against his chin, the thoughtful expression abandoned, and he relaxed. "Links with rust are poor, no?"
"Links?" She blinked. "A maester's chain? You, Oberyn?" He grinned at her. "It's hard to believe." Oberyn was rarely vague, but she'd grown used to his nuances over the past moon.
He gave a brief shrug. "I grew bored after the sixth link," Oberyn said. "Could you see me in a maester's garb?" he japed, raising an eyebrow and returned to his notes beside him.
Sansa stifled a laugh. Beside Oberyn sat a list of names, but not people. They sounded like toxins or benign substances. "No," she said, amusement in her tone despite her efforts. "You're too impulsive."
The Dornishman glanced up and grinned. "Impertinent brat. What happened to Little lady's courtesies?" he said and paused in his reading to write something down, circling it. "You'd still be in Braavos if I was not impulsive."
"I thank you for that, Oberyn. Truly." She would still be making gowns in Braavos if not for his help. "I forgot my courtesies?" Sansa said with an exaggerated gasp. And hoped she morphed her expression to one of blame. "You're a bad influence, Oberyn Martell."
The prince gave a wicked smirk. "And proud of it, for I have corrupted one fine lady."
She blinked and grew concerned. For as long as she could remember, she hadn't behaved in such a casual manner. She brought forth the persona and nuances that had made her the Lady of Winterfell.
The accuracy of Oberyn's comment left a wave of disbelief about her behaviour. She had to ensure her family's future was favourable, but an unfocused mind wouldn't result in true success.
She needed allies. Yet allies could be fickle, like House Tyrell's lacklustre loyalty; she needed friends.
Reining in the humour from their conversation, she stayed factual with her following words. "This has to be the only time I've seen you sit still aside from eating."
"A project, if you will, Sansa."
She embraced the lady mannerisms she'd been taught in girlhood and walked to the window. Below flowed the Red Fork. Her reflection had a serene face, but Sansa's mind spun with questions on her next move in the game. Where do I intervene? What should be left to occur? Lyanna? Jon? The Lannisters? Targaryens? She speculated, clasping her hands tight.
Cersei's obsession for power would make the younger Cersei the Mad King reborn. That was inevitable. Stopping the woman from destroying Westeros' chance of survival against their foes was not up for debate; it was Sansa's duty. Doing nothing would doom her home, friends and family.
House Tully almost had the right of it; Family, Duty, Honour. All three were critical factors of life. Sansa viewed the words differently where none resided above the others; for without any honour, you were untrusted; without fulfilling duty, there would be vulnerability to what mattered; and without family, there would be no home and people you love and rely on.
No matter what, Cersei had to be stopped. Inside, she grew sick from this line of thought. She was not the gods to play with the lives of people like a cyvasse piece. That behaviour belonged to Littlefinger, who served one person alone. To do nothing with the knowledge from her previous life was wasteful; she had to do something. Honourable when possible, but must act if there was no other choice.
To refuse to act, because it turned her stomach, would be selfish if it risked innocent deaths.
She drew a line at what she would do because, unlike Littlefinger, she did have qualms. To dream of a perfect life was the notion of a stupid little girl, and she'd been through enough to have learnt the 'perfect life' didn't exist. Hard and undesirable choices would have to be made eventually; when to act or stand aside.
In her reflection, was an untroubled young Sansa when she spotted Catelyn pass through the doorway.
"Sansa," Catelyn said, disturbing the silence.
Turning, she met Catelyn's eye. "Yes, Catelyn?"
From the other side of the room came a stifled intake of breath. She met Oberyn's eyes, whose flickered between her and Catelyn. His stare lightened by a margin when he stopped and turned to Sansa. "Only twins could have your likeness. Not as identical as the Lannister twins, but your differences are very slight, my ladies."
She nodded. "I've never met Cersei and Jaime Lannister, Oberyn, but thank you."
Sansa caught Catelyn staring when she turned to her older sister, who broke her resentful gaze upon noticing her looking back. As though nothing had happened, Catelyn straightened up and became a proper lady. "I'd like to have a word," Catelyn said, her face hard. She'd raised Sansa and now looked at her as though she was filth. She suppressed her Winterfell memories.
"Of course," she said with a nod. When Catelyn turned to leave, she followed.
The walk was quiet since she didn't desire to be at odds with another Tully. Already, Uncle Brynden, the Blackfish, was clear about not wanting her here. The silence in the halls was reminiscent of another time in another castle during girlhood. One of many moments she regretted, for Jon never deserved it.
The demeanour of Catelyn was unwelcoming in her new home. To think Jon had endured this from Catelyn, but a little from Sansa as well, in Winterfell. It sent a wave of shame through the time traveller for what she'd done.
It was cruelty. Worse than Cersei's venom-filled words and veiled insults, at least she'd known what the woman thought of her during King's Landing. Here and now, she had no idea except for what she presumed about Catelyn. The wordless cold shoulder, in time, would torment her in a horrid way as she interpreted their interactions. Including the chance of being wrong and wondering whether she was.
Inside a bedchamber with no personal items, except Sansa's plain grey mummer's gown, Catelyn closed the door and came to the centre.
"Don't think for a second I believe that story," Catelyn said. "I've never heard of you before. There is barely anything in this chamber. My mother and father never talked about a younger twin; only bastards are hidden from a castle."
Sansa remained on her feet; to sit down was surrendering or admitting defeat. "Consider something; not telling you about me would let you live happily whether I grew healthy or died. And didn't you hear Prince Oberyn?"
"If that's right, then why didn't you come in a wheelhouse?"
Stubbornness shone through Catelyn, but she ignored it. "Banners are flown on a wheelhouse. Don't you think Mother and Father would want a peaceful reunion and everything arranged before another house knew about me?" That ought to make her falter and think.
"My-,"
There was a knock on the door and Sansa opened it, revealing Mother. "Sansa, would you join me for a walk?"
"Of course, Mother," she said and took the chance to avoid a fight. "Is Edmure asleep again?"
Mother smiled and wrapped a gentle arm around her back. Their walk was peaceful through the halls. Her shoulder got a light squeeze. "Catelyn will be difficult, Sansa, so just give her time to adjust." Mother turned them towards a door out to the central courtyard of Riverrun. "The guards said you were having a lot of fun astride Prince Oberyn's horse. The dresses you brought with you made it clear how you could. Were you a rider before?"
After passing through a couple of baileys, a man outside the stables held a grey horse's reins. "No. I scarcely rode. It was a wheelhouse more than not."
"Here, sit with me, Sansa," Mother said next to a stone bench. She joined her. "Do you believe you would enjoy riding a horse again?"
The two stables were built side by side; one looked better and cleaner. "With practise," she said and turned to Mother. "There was something…freeing about that ride, but I've never felt like that before."
Mother smiled and held Sansa's hand within her own. "You're a solemn or wistful child, Sansa, and I get the feeling things didn't go well for you."
"No. It didn't."
Mother sighed and squeezed her hand. "Well, since you like riding a horse, but didn't ride last time. How about, as my daughter, you ride this time?"
"Mother?" she asked.
"Something new for a new life. Something to make you happy," Mother said, an index stroked her cheek. "I want that for you."
She swallowed, and her lips curved. "I'd like that very much."
Mother cleared her throat. "Henric," she said to the man nearby but turned back to Sansa. "This horse is mine, but with a babe in my belly, and Edmure so young, I can't ride her."
"Are you…?" she asked but faltered with the question.
She nodded. "When you wish, go for a ride on Grey Grace. If you like riding her, Sansa, she is yours." She didn't dare look away from her, who tucked a lock behind Sansa's ear. "Humble," Mother said. "I mean it, Sansa Tully. If you like her, Grace is yours," she said, stood and brought Sansa to her feet. "Would you like to meet her?"
"I would." She kept her eyes on Mother's. "This is very generous of you."
Mother lifted Sansa's hand to the horse's lowered nose. "This here is Henric, Riverrun's master of horse," Mother said, with a gesture to the man holding the reins. "Henric, my youngest twin daughter, Sansa Tully. She's returned from Harrenhal now that she's hale and healthy."
Henric nodded to both of them. "A pleasure Lady Tully. And Lady Sansa, a pleasure to meet you. You look so like your sister."
She smiled and curtsied. "Thank you. It's nice to meet you too."
A soft hand fiddled with her loose hair. "Any time you wish Henric to ready Grace for you. Let us both know. I'd like to watch you learn, Sansa. See a pure smile as you ride. Grace is a gentle horse. I doubt you'll have a bad experience with her."
She turned and smiled. "Thank you for this, Mother."
Mother smiled with a hand on Sansa's back. "Of course, I thought you might like the idea."
"Lady Tully," Henric said. "Did you want Grey Grace prepared for your daughter to ride?"
"Not today, Henric." Mother looked at Sansa. "Tomorrow, mayhaps?" she asked in question. Sansa nodded. "Tomorrow, Henric."
"As you wish, Lady Tully."
They turned away, and she followed Mother's walk back into the central courtyard. "Thank you for thinking about me like that."
Mother thumbed Sansa's knuckles. "You're my family."
A shadow was cast upon them, and Sansa looked up.
"Lady Minisa Tully," Oberyn said respectfully to Mother with a nod and turned to Sansa. "Lady Sansa Tully." She curtsied, as was her station. He must have deduced the outcome from her proximity to Mother. "Lady Tully. Your daughter was a fine travelling companion," he told Mother, and his eyes fell onto Sansa. "But our journey has come to an end."
Sansa was no lackwit; Oberyn was leaving. "My Prince, I am deeply indebted to you for your generous assistance." The first rock she had in this life was leaving; she would've been floating in a sea of strangers once again had it not been for Mother. "Should our paths cross again, I pray the circumstances are joyous."
The prince's smile was small this time. "Yes, my lady, and so do I. Remember what I taught you, and we shall see each other again, for I'm riding west."
She didn't hesitate. "I will, My Prince." Sansa swallowed thickly. "I swear I will." She kept her composure strong, but like Arya once said, there was no doubt her eyes told Oberyn everything she hadn't said. "Thank you for bringing me home."
Mother's hand ran down her back once Oberyn had left for the stables. Clearly, the woman wasn't oblivious to the turbulence within her newfound daughter. "Shall we go to the western drawbridge and say a final farewell?" Mother suggested in a tone of sympathy.
Sansa agreed. She'd come to see a friend in Prince Oberyn, her only friend.
They waited by the western bridge for him to approach with his horse and restocked saddlebags. The drawbridge of choice struck as strange since his ship was to the far east. The man was unpredictable.
He was on foot when he reached the gate and turned to Sansa. "Farewell, Braavosi Trout," Oberyn whispered and quirked a grin, giving her a bow and lifting her hand to his lips. "I am no Lannister. There is no debt between friends."
She gave a tight smile. "Farewell, Oberyn."
Mounting the black horse with its fire-red mane, Oberyn nodded to the Lady of Riverrun and Sansa. He left her new home.
From the battlements of Riverrun standing beside her Mother, she watched Oberyn's sand steed fade into the distance. A raven flew overhead in the direction of the departed man.