SANSA STARK
Day 16, 11th Moon, 275 AC
Reaching the kitchens, Sansa accepted Mother's meal and walked a different hall to avoid Petyr while Lysa likely fussed over his smarting cheek. She didn't need to see Petyr again where he'd forcibly kissed her; the commotion of raised voices should be enough. Enough to get rid of him; something wrong enough that Father might dismiss him from Riverrun if Mother pushed for it.
Around a corner towards the family wing, she almost upended Mother's meal upon her uncle, who stared at her. "Why did I hear you shout Baelish's name and the word 'no'? And Lysa? She sounded upset."
"Baelish wouldn't stop," she said with composure. "He kissed me despite my refusal, so I slapped him. I have told him no for a moon now."
Uncle assessed her with a critical eye. "Are you hurt?"
"No, Uncle, but thank you. I'm fine."
Blackfish sighed and shook his head. "Fostering the boy was a bad idea," he muttered, focussing on her. "And your sisters?"
She looked him in the eyes. "Catelyn wasn't involved, but Lysa believes I was teasing him and wanted that kiss," Sansa said. "I don't. Never did, or will. Baelish has tried to catch me alone since I arrived."
Uncle Brynden rolled his eyes and looked down the hall. "Is that meal for my goodsister?" Uncle Brynden asked, to which she nodded. He handed her the tray. "Deliver the meal and be in the Lord's solar in two hours," he told Sansa. She nodded and left, thoughts of Baelish and Lysa whirling within her.
Lysa was always the key to how Petyr lifted himself higher in the ranks of Westeros. And in The Eyrie, Lysa had talked about Littlefinger bedding her the night of Catelyn's betrothal feast. The beginning of Lysa's end.
Lysa, now, was far from the erratic Lysa Arryn she'd known. In Riverrun, Sansa rarely saw or heard Lysa, but when she did, Sansa couldn't help the slight smiles at how different this younger Lysa was. However, with her sister being infatuated with Petyr, it was clear Sansa hadn't taken measures fast enough in this life. Or arrived too late.
Sansa's altercation created merit for getting rid of Petyr. Finally, some hope. Lysa, a young and timid child, might become a calm lady with her attention and feelings towards another boy. Hopefully, one who will reciprocate them given time
Sansa straightened her back. A kiss was nothing like what she'd had to do to survive.
"With my wits and Cat's beauty, the world will be yours, sweetling," Littlefinger told her in the Vale, his hand lingering ever closer to her waist than her back.
As permanent as it would be to dispose of Petyr the way Arya would've done, Sansa couldn't do as she wished. Trust from her family was foundational to a stable life here. If she killed Petyr now, she'd lose her tenuous position in Riverrun. So the confidence of House Tully took priority. A matter she still dealt with.
Catelyn barely interacted with her beyond duty; Lysa kept her distance and quiet; Uncle Brynden was wary of her. She'd only met her grandparents briefly in the courtyard today. Father observed his newest daughter's behaviour and abilities. Sansa needed at least Father's acceptance of her. According to her mother, he appreciated Sansa supporting his heavily pregnant wife.
Sansa entered Mother's bedchambers, who stirred lightly in her sleep briefly but resumed her slumber. Lady Whent watched over her from the end of the bed. It was a shame Mother had to wake so soon after finally sleeping for more than an hour today. However, Uncle's meeting was in two hours, so Sansa closed the door and set the tray far from the bed. She wouldn't wake her mother unnecessarily early.
Turning, Sansa curtsied and met the eyes of Lady Whent, who rose from the end of the bed and approached her with a thoughtful expression. The lady took a light breath as though to whisper. "There are no secrets between Minisa and I, little wolf. I know. But for everyone's sake, call me 'Grandmother' and my husband 'Grandfather'. Just as you call Minisa 'Mother'."
Sansa swallowed and inhaled, gathering herself to keep her voice low. "Grandmother…" she murmured, testing it on her tongue. "'Mother' is more than a title. I do love her, truly, and I like to think she loves me too," she whispered.
Her new grandmother sat at the vanity, their eyes level. A hand reached towards Sansa's face but paused. "May I, granddaughter? We barely met in the courtyard this morning. You are your own person, not simply a second Catelyn. Shall we find what sets you apart? " Sansa stepped forth into Grandmother's touch, who studied Sansa's features. "And Minisa loves you as family as well, sweetling, worry not about that. I've heard how devoted you are to her, and can't express my appreciation in words," she murmured as she lightly traced Sansa's face and stroked her hair.
Sansa couldn't help breathing the question when her grandmother stopped and sat straight. "What of me is Northern? Stark?"
"I've never properly met a Lord or Lady Stark, but I've met enough Northwomen to recognise their shared traits." Sansa kept quiet and watched. "You've fairer skin and are minutely taller than Catelyn, despite our claim that you're twins. Those are Northern. Possibly Stark, but I wouldn't know." Grandmother trailed Sansa's brow and nose with a hum. "I'm unsure who gave you these, but you were lucky. Four things are certain to me, though. First, the rich blue eyes, and hair that's more vibrant than even Catelyn or Lysa's, are indisputably Tully. Your cheekbones and jaw are my blood - Whent."
Sansa hid her disappointment as best she could. It seemed little of her Stark blood showed at all.
Grandmother, however, lightly squeezed her shoulders and whispered. "Your Stark blood is subtle, Sansa. Fairer skin, a hint you'll grow tall, and other features complement your Tully and Whent traits. The gods smiled upon you."
She glanced away and nodded. "Often at Winterfell, when they thought I wouldn't hear, or possibly meant for me to, people gossiped that I looked nothing like my father. Arya and Jon had the Stark look, and Arya had wolf blood. I have neither. He was more comfortable around them. I hoped, mayhaps, that…Well, it doesn't matter now; it's a useless thought."
A hand brushed Sansa's hair out of her face and cupped her cheek. Grandmother's hazel eyes stared fiercely into hers. "People gossip such out of jealousy, Sansa. You'll grow to be an envied woman. Gods, you're already a beauty this young. Don't let spiteful murmurs fill your head. Pay them no heed. Those comments were said to hurt you."
"I know they were. And they won't be the last people who do so."
Her grandmother hummed in agreement and carded her hair, changing the topic to Sansa's life in Riverrun with her Tully family. Their words were soft whispers as they watched over her mother, deep in her sleep.
Eventually, Sansa brought the tray to Minisa's bedside and lightly squeezed her shoulder. "Mother," Sansa whispered, sitting on the bed's edge. Minisa stirred slightly, and Sansa took her hand, thumbing her palm. "I know you're tired, Mother, but you must wake. I'm sorry." Her mother needed to eat before the meeting about Baelish.
This time Mother opened her brown eyes and blinked. "Sansa," she murmured and sat within the sheets. Sansa tucked thick pillows behind her for support with care, burying her thoughts.
Quiet words passed between her mother and grandmother, who pecked Minisa's forehead and left the bedchamber, shutting the door most of the way.
Mother took Sansa's hands. "Sweetling? You're worrying me, my girl. Show me your true self." Mother spoke softly with kind eyes. "What troubles you?"
"It's Petyr," she said. "I'm concerned about Catelyn and Lysa." Her mother listened without judgement. "I told him to leave me alone, to only talk because I don't think of him romantically…A guard told me he used to do exactly the same with Catelyn." The last was a partial lie; someone else had been her source.
Mother grew serious and encased Sansa's hands within hers, pulling her towards the middle of the bed. "What's happened, Sansa?" she urged, wrapping an arm around Sansa. "Doubts about the family, yes, but this seriousness is something else." Her eyes turned protective. "What has Petyr done to my three girls, Sansa?"
"He forced a kiss on me, although I said no." An overlong conversation with half-answers would worry her mother. "Petyr used to pursue Cat but never managed," Sansa said. "And Lysa's infatuated with him."
With a sigh, Mother ran a hand along Sansa's arm and drew her closer. "It seemed like innocent play at the time. The hooked arms and brief hugs I witnessed." She tucked a loose lock of Sansa's hair behind her ear. "I never imagined he'd harass and assault a daughter of mine. I wish we could have told your father sooner."
Sansa straightened a little. "Would the words of you or Father have stopped him? He's persistent and will circumvent any rules set to stop him."
A hand ran along Sansa's flowing hair. Mother's expression was profound sadness. "If only Petyr could have been sent away and out of your life, Sansa." She gently wrapped her arms around Sansa again, eyes checking her over. "Are you hurt?"
Sansa leaned in and indulged in the warm, safe embrace. "I'm well. When he kissed me, I slapped him. He wouldn't listen to the word 'No'," she said, admitting her aggressiveness. Hopefully, Mother wouldn't think less of her.
"And after?"
"Uncle Brynden encountered me in a different hall but continued in the kitchens' direction where I'd shouted at Petyr for kissing me." Sansa rested her head on Mother's shoulder. This was a comfort she'd been long denied, so she relished it. Minisa was the one person she dropped her guard around, who might have deduced that.
She held Sansa close and rubbed her back for a while. The comfort lulled her. She could've fallen asleep.
"That boy will not remain in Riverrun," Mother said firmly, drawing Sansa out of peaceful rest. "Your father won't stand for it once your uncle tells him. And neither will I." Lips pecked her temple. "I will always fight for my children."
Sansa lifted her head while wry amusement stirred within her; she met her mother's eyes. "You might not have to this time," she said, and Mother looked at her in askance. "Uncle Brynden wasn't happy and arranged for a meeting in roughly twenty minutes."
Mother placed her hands on Sansa's shoulders. "The Lord's solar?" she asked.
Sansa nodded. "Yes, but you need food and rest, Mother."
She huffed and turned her head towards Sansa. "What kind of mother would I be if I didn't go?" Mother asked rhetorically.
"One heavy with child and no doubt tired. Surely Father and Uncle Brynden would be enough?"
Mother sighed, directed Sansa to rest against her shoulder and played with her auburn locks. "You're a strong girl, Sansa. Taking the situation with your head held high-."
"It's not very high," she said with a touch of mischief.
"-and making japes about it," her mother said as though Sansa hadn't interrupted. Then, after a pause, she drew back and looked at Sansa. "I think that's the first jape you've made here in Riverrun, aside from being in Prince Oberyn's company." She traced Sansa's cheek then her hand fell to meet Sansa's.
Sansa smiled. "It is."
Mother laughed softly and pecked Sansa's forehead. "You're a wonder, Sansa. Tully and Whent for all to see, and beneath you have something only I and your grandmother can name."
"Strong and hard to break. Steel," Sansa whispered.
Mother squeezed her for a second. "Yes, Sansa. You're a resilient girl to have withstood this for a moon." There was a peaceful pause. "You will see a Stark, Sansa," she murmured, playing with the braid. Sansa's lips parted, but her mother's eyes glazed, so she didn't interrupt. "It is said that Starks endured the Long Night with steel will. And you have that will."
With a swallow, Sansa suppressed some emotions that arose. "That's not something said lightly. On the contrary, the North considers it high praise," she said. "You truly think I'm worthy of such words, Mother?"
"I know you're worthy, Sansa Tully. Every day you spend in Riverrun, you're proving it."
Sansa held back tears at the words. She pulled forth her persona of Lady of Winterfell to keep them back. The mask Sansa had worn to protect herself at her worst and weakest moments. "Mother…," she started. "Thank you."
Mother leaned back and cupped Sansa's face. "I know that expression, Sansa," she scolded gently. "Don't hide behind it. It's alright to cry, sweetling. You can't always be steel," she told Sansa and encompassed her. "You and I know you're steel, but you're my daughter too. So let me be your mother."
Chin tucked at the nape of Mother's neck, Sansa wrapped her arms around Mother with closed eyes. Her breathing slowed, and her mother murmured sweet nothings in her ear.
CATELYN TULLY
Entering the Lady's solar after passing Grandmother in the family wing, Cat stood listening to deep breathing inside the Lady's bedchamber. Then, she stepped closer to the ajar door.
Her mother was inside on the bed. The bastard embraced her after it wiped its eyes once. It assisted Mother to rise from the bed, and Cat's supposed twin sister stood tall and met Mother's eyes. "Mother…I love you," it murmured.
Cat witnessed her mother give the interloper a genuine smile as though the declaration was the most joyous thing. "Your eyes are no longer clouded when you say it," Mother said and gave an affectionate hug. "I love you too, my daughter."
In the shadows, Catelyn watched her mother stroke the bastard's hair and brush it until it shone. How she looked at the locks with a soft smile. Mother took up a small portion and made a thin braid on either side that met at the back. The rest of the vibrant hair hung free and fell past the bastard's shoulders.
"That day in your father's solar, your hair like this, the sunlight made it shine like molten copper," her mother said, playing with a tress and smiling. "Such a beautiful shade of red, and the light only added to it; and your eyes, Tully blue. Your father told me later, 'Only a lackwit would deny she's a Tully'."
Cat frowned. She glanced at her browner red hair and listened as Mother spoke.
"When I looked at your face properly for the first time, my heart told me you were mine. There you were, standing proud like a lady and awaiting whatever the meeting's outcome would be. I had no name for the look in your eyes, but it was your steel will ready to face the world's decision."
She's a bastard, Mother. Cat thought bitterly.
"And that same steel determination helped you rise above your obstacles. I am proud of you, Sansa. Like a trout to water, you've handled half of a Lady's duties and care for Edmure. You are so easy to love, my girl."
Catelyn wanted to shout in anger. She shouldn't be handling half of my duties in the first place!
She cupped her elbows and went to a looking glass in the solar; it showed her own features. Tully colouring and the face of Mother.
"I hope Catelyn has that same steel beneath her skin as you do, Sansa," her mother said from the bedchamber. Cat remained where she was by the desk and listened. "She's going to need it."
Grasp on the table, she resisted the urge to lash out at the ledgers she was forced to share with the bastard. The girl made it look like she'd done it all her life. Catelyn could do her duties, but the bastard made her look lazy and slow.
"Why would you say so, Mother?" the girl's voice asked.
Cat gave the answer her full attention. The girl had something she apparently lacked. She wanted to know.
"Catelyn's going to be betrothed to a Stark soon," her mother said. "Your father exchanged ravens with the Starks to betroth Catelyn to Brandon. Lord Stark has agreed. I trust you can keep confidence about this, my daughter. Lady Lyarra Stark has reassured me Catelyn will be treated well in Winterfell."
That girl had no right to know what Catelyn's future was. She shook with anger.
There was a minute or so of cutlery, and the girl's voice came from the bedchamber. "Mother," she said hesitantly. "Catelyn…she doesn't like change, and there are no septs in the North. Will she learn to pray to the Old Gods?"
The eldest daughter of Minisa Tully bristled at the gall that girl had. To speak as though changing from the Faith of the Seven was as simple as changing dresses. It was an ill-begotten mockery. Catelyn wanted nothing more than the Seven to take this bastard intruder away.
Out of sight, Cat scowled towards the bedchamber. That pretty little girl had charmed all but her shy sister and Uncle Brynden. However, Uncle Brynden was beginning to fall for her sweet words.
"Sansa, I know she hasn't been kind to you. Much to my shame," Mother said, her voice contrite at what Cat had done. "If I was ever to request one thing of her, it would be that she made an effort to accept you. I want peace between my daughters. All three of you."
The thought of making her mother feel like she'd failed made guilt stir within Catelyn. That was all, though.
The baseborn sighed. "If Petyr stayed away from me, there would be peace between Lysa and I. Catelyn, for the most part, pretends I don't exist. But that is her decision, her action. It's not your fault."
Cutlery clinked on a dish, and Mother responded. "When you become a mother, Sansa, you'll learn that a mother believes the failings of her children are also her own."
"Then I shall endeavour to make your wish a reality, but it may take time," the bastard avowed.
"That's the most I could ever ask of you, Sansa."
Cat's irritation swelled with how her mother spoke to the girl, so she opened the solar door and made it sound like she'd entered. "Mother? There's been an incident between Petyr and Sansa," she said, her teeth gritted when she spoke the girl's name. Inside the bedchamber, the pair moved from the looking glass together; the candlelight made the girl's fairer skin stand out. "Father would like you to come to his solar soon."
Mother met Cat's eyes, which felt like they told her mother something. Mayhaps she could see her eldest was bothered. "Thank you, Cat," she said, touching her cheek. "Is all well?"
"I'm excellent, Mother," she calmly said, forcing hurt to stay out of her voice. Stepping aside for Mother, Cat followed behind the pair for the short distance to Father's Solar. Strangely, it was absent of Father and Uncle. They wouldn't be far away by now. The baseborn girl assisted Cat's mother into a seat, receiving a peck on the cheek and a quiet word.
The doting her mother gave the girl was ridiculous.
Taking her own seat, Cat watched the girl who'd come to Riverrun and uprooted everything for Catelyn since. She'd lost her friend to the bastard. So it was…fitting that the baseborn was the one he kissed. To Cat, he was a friend that oftentimes pined for Sansa.
Mother gave her heart to the girl, and Cat didn't forget how they'd spoken of love in her bedchamber. It irked Catelyn that her mother's duties were split with the bastard, who worked too deftly for her liking.
Beauty. Wits. Affection. There was no end to it.
Cat caught herself from scowling and looked when the door opened. Entering the Lord's solar was Lysa, led by Father to sit on their mother's side of the solar. Just behind them, Uncle Brynden brought Petyr to an isolated seat in front of Father's desk. His hand rested on the back of Petyr's chair.
Sweet little Sansa has made you into a pining fool, hasn't she, Petyr? Cat grumbled in her mind.
"I expected better behaviour from you, Petyr Baelish," Father said, standing behind the desk. "Mischievous play with the girls is one thing, but to assault one of my daughters after she rejects you repeatedly is unacceptable. Especially of a ward."
Cat glanced at Sansa, who was watching Petyr.
Petyr made to speak. "Lord Tully-"
Father's eyes narrowed. "You will speak when asked, boy," he growled.
"Yes, my Lord Tully."
"Sansa," Father called upon the bastard in a kinder tone. "Did you act in a manner to mislead Petyr Baelish to believe his affections were welcome?"
Perfect little Sansa was seated like a practised lady. "No, Lord Father, I did not," she denied. "I often took turns so our paths wouldn't cross," the bastard said.
"She slapped him hard enough," Uncle Brynden muttered, waving at the red handprint on Petyr's cheek.
Little savage.
Mother stirred in her seat. "Hoster, I want the boy gone. He's made too many advances on our children as it is."
Lysa stood. "She's been fooling with his feelings," she said timidly. "It's not his fault."
Father stared at Lysa, and she seemed to shrink in on herself before sitting down. "Your uncle has told me the kitchen servants confirmed the contrary."
Cat was with her septa when the incident happened, and she wanted friendship with Petyr. However, if witnesses had told Father the kiss hadn't been wanted, there was little chance that he would allow Petyr to stay.
"My lady, could you elaborate on what you said?" Father asked, watching Mother as she looked at her two daughters and the baseborn.
"It's more than just Sansa, my husband," her mother said with certainty. "From what I've been told tonight, Petyr has attempted to approach Catelyn similarly but failed." Cat blinked and glanced at Lysa for a second."With him gone, our girls will be better off without him stalking their steps. And besides, Catelyn is betrothed, as will Sansa and Lysa be in time."
One day, she and Lysa had learnt how to kiss by taking turns kissing Petyr. He'd gotten carried away with Cat one time. However, she'd pulled back when he tried to kiss deeply. Lysa, on the other hand, had allowed him. He was the first boy for Lysa to ever kiss in a more-than-innocent way.
The three of them had never done it in a courtyard. Yet, someone must have watched for their mother to know about it.
With a severe glare, her father stared at Petyr, who seemed tempted to speak. "Baelish," Father said. "To force yourself upon a girl, let alone my daughter, is intolerable. At dawn, you will be escorted to your father's keep in the Vale by a party of soldiers," he told Cat's friend with finality. "Keep your distance from my daughters in the future, or there shall be consequences.
SANSA STARK
Day 17, 11th Moon, 275 AC
From the battlements, Sansa watched a small contingent of mounted men surround Petyr Baelish and spur their horses. The sight relieved her, but concern lingered. Going against the old adage of 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer' made her fret about what alternate scheme Baelish could brew.
He'd been a mastermind in her first life. Influenced Westeros from the shadows and stirred trouble to his benefit. If he was Littlefinger, he would embed himself within House Waynwood or another prominent Vale house. House Baelish was a minor one.
From what she'd observed over the past moon, Lysa's affections for Petyr were watered down to a budding fancy compared to Lysa Arryn's obsession at the Eyrie. All Sansa could do was hope that Petyr leaving eight years earlier would make the needed difference. If Lysa received attention from another young lord, Petyr mayhaps yet become a faint girlhood memory.
Although leaving now, Petyr had been present when Sansa first arrived. There was a chance Petyr deduced that her story and identity were falsehoods. He could use it against her when necessary to manipulate a future situation.
Little time had passed to give the story of Sansa Tully a decent chance to grow and take root. Westeros must perceive it as nothing but the truth. She needed stability. Until then, she would present herself as a trueborn and indisputable Tully.
Sansa turned away and walked the battlements to enjoy the calm wind on her face. It hardly compared to the winds of the North, but it was the closest she imagined herself receiving any time soon. When she closed her eyes, it seemed the wind gained a Northern chill for a second.
Last night, Father told her how Petyr became a ward of House Tully; through the friendship and camaraderie in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Being raised in Riverrun was an enormous societal leap and garnered at least mentions amongst the great houses and their courts for minor houses such as House Baelish.
With Petyr's presence removed, he would have difficulty gaining a foothold in Westeros for some time. However, he was on the way to the Vale, and Sansa didn't take Father for a fool. He would've sent word to Lord Arryn so he'd permit Tully soldiers through the Bloody Gate to traverse the Vale.
Anyone who learnt the story of what happened in Riverrun would distrust Petyr, thus staining his reputation in at least the Vale until he was older. The same could be said for growing influence; he would have better odds in a few years. But, unfortunately, he'd be more dangerous as well.
Her fingers brushed against the skirts that concealed her Essosi dagger strapped there. It went everywhere with her. The habit could someday provide Sansa aid that an enemy won't anticipate. That Baelish won't expect if it came to that. She would continue practising as she'd promised Oberyn.
Atop the western drawbridge, Sansa stared westward where River Road continued southwest to Casterly Rock and Lannisport. Oberyn had taken that road. She hoped to see him again one day. His company was one that she missed, to her surprise. Wits and intellect combined with japes were a scarce mixture found in the hearts of good men.
"Sansa," called Father's voice. She turned and dipped her head. Eyes upon him again, he had a face of regret."I'm sorry you felt alone concerning Petyr Baelish. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
A straightforward question and easy to answer. "Father, I was in a difficult position. Petyr began the day I arrived here," she said, meeting his eyes. "My place within the family was tenuous at best. Had I said anything within the first week, I doubt it would have resulted in anything good." Sansa released a soft breath. "Who would've been believed? The newcomer or the favoured ward?" she gently pointed out.
Hoster Tully grimaced at the reasoning and nodded his head. "No one can argue that, Sansa," he conceded but not happy. "But the next time something like this happens, I want you to come to me…Unexplainable as your presence is, I consider you a daughter." He hesitated, and she watched him place a hand on her shoulder. "I don't want you fighting battles alone."
Sansa gave a small smile and looked into his eyes as she nodded. "I understand. Should something similar happen, I will tell you," she said, observing his expression to measure the depth of their relationship.
Father seemed to be accepting her into the fold of his family. Any further after only a moon would have baffled Sansa. Tending to Mother's needs and Edmure must have sown some trust towards her within Father.
She tested the waters with a safe jape. "And Father? What do you mean by 'unexplainable presence'? I was raised in Harrenhal until now."
The man had a wry smile. "Indeed you were," he murmured, looking towards River Road atop the inner battlements. "You have a good head on your shoulders, Sansa. And worry not about Lord Whent. He agreed to the story a moon ago."
"Surely he needed proof to approve it?" Sansa asked.
Father turned to her and gestured towards the northeast. "Your mother sent Lord and Lady Whent a missive in another language via raven. And in a language they know I don't understand; that tells them she willingly agreed to claim you as ours. Neither is your mother one to make outlandish requests without a good reason," he said, half turning towards a castle entrance with an expectant look.
She followed and caught up to his side as they passed through the courtyard and into the keep. "Thank you, Father," she said, following him up the family wing stairs.
"You're welcome, Sansa. I shall see you at the midday meal, unless there's anything you need to discuss?" her father asked outside his solar door.
With a grateful smile, she shook her head. "All is well, Father. I best retrieve Mother's breaking of fast from the kitchens."
"Very well then, Daughter," Father said and entered his solar to sit at the desk. There was a cluster of parchments, and he took one.
Taking her leave, Sansa retrieved Mother's meal from the kitchens and walked to the Lady's bedchamber. On her way, Catelyn watched her with a bitter look, but Sansa ignored it. Then, however, she recalled her promise to Mother last night.
"Good morrow, Catelyn," she said, gazing at Cat to gauge her response.
Dead silence.
She continued on and sighed, a little disappointed. At least she had tried meeting Catelyn halfway. Sansa entered the Lady's solar through to the bedchamber. Mother slept inside, so Sansa went to the small table on the opposite side of the bed.
She approached Mother's side and gave her a feather-light kiss on the cheek. Her mother needed sleep, so Sansa left her in peace and proceeded out, closing the bedchamber and solar doors, towards Edmure's nursery. The boy would need a bedchamber soon.
"Lady Sansa," Maester Kym called out while she turned a corner.
Coming to a stop, she faced him. He approached her with a sealed letter in hand. "Yes, Maester Kym?" she said. She observed him for clues on what this was about.
"A letter for you, my lady," he said, holding it out.
Sansa accepted the letter and turned it over. The wax wasn't Lannister red or Arryn blue, not that Petyr could be near the Eyrie yet. She looked to the maester. "Thank you, Maester Kym. Could you tell me who sent it?" she asked, having neglected to take a good look.
The maester shook his head. "Not who, my lady, but where," he said. "It came from Winterfell."
She lifted her thumb and stifled a gasp. Grey wax with the sigil of a direwolf. "The Starks? What interest would they have in me?" she said more to herself than the maester.
"I do not know, my lady."
She met the maester's eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Maester Kym." He dipped his head to her and took his leave. Going to a quiet alcove of Riverrun, Sansa broke the wax and read.
Lady Sansa Tully,
It brings relief to a mother when all her children are safe and healthy.
Upon your father's missive sharing the news of your return from Harrenhal, I felt I should write to congratulate you for defeating the odds of sickness that kept you from your mother, Lady Minisa, for most of your girlhood. Although I myself never lost a child to illness in the North, it is harsh here in winter, and not every babe survives the cold. You survived a long battle of your own and I wish you every happiness now that you're with your family once more.
As you read this, I am venturing south to Riverrun to meet my future gooddaughter, your sister, Lady Catelyn.
May all be well for House Tully.
Lady Lyarra Stark
Lady of Winterfell
Sansa smiled.