(no subject)
It had started off as a good enough day. Sansa had planned to spend it with Susan making baby things as Eddara and Rickon played together - they were getting along much better now perhaps because though Eddara was still inclined to be bossy, she was much more accepting of Rickon's company after all the time they had spent together when Jon had been in the clinic. However a small argument had broken out that had led to bright strawberry stains on the material for making clothing and both Eddara and Rickon looking slightly ashamed of themselves. Sansa had volunteered to make the walk to the compound in search of more material while Susan watched the children - who now were of course on their best behaviour.
Sansa didn't mind the walk at all, and besides if Susan had went there was a decent chance that Rickon may have had a tantrum. Sansa suspected she was far from his favourite aunt simply because he's seen so much of her recently when he wanted his mother.
She found some actual baby clothing in the clothing box as well as some clothing with suitable material for them to use and she had gathered it all in a bag intending to head straight back to Susan's with it.
But something on the bookshelf caught her eye and she moved closer. The Dance of Dragons was a well known Westerosi tale and one old enough that Sansa wouldn't mind it - but it didn't look like a Westerosi book. And by the time she got closer to the shelf it was gone and instead she found four large hardback books. She pulled one out wondering how she had possible misread a title about Swords as containing dragons. Then she opened it and dropped it horrified unable to believe what she had read. She picked it up and read it again - and pulled the other volumes off the shelf and scanned through them again and again finding her name and her family's name and reading about things best left forgotten.
Sansa had not had a moment of mother's stomach in this pregnancy apart from when her nerves overtook her in the dream of Westeros. But she felt nauseous now. She fled to the ladies bathroom and vomited until there was nothing left in her and even after that it was a long time before the heaving stopped. She had never felt more ashamed in her life - not even when Joffrey hurt her or when she had to tell her father his first grandchild would be bastard born.
She only came out of the bathroom because the thought of those books on the floor where anyone could see them forced her to pick herself up rinse her mouth and wash her face. She picked up the books and shoved them into the bag of material.
Sansa decided she would go home and burn the books, when she felt calm enough she would go back to Susan's and sew and pretend that this had never ever happened. As much as she could. But she did not think she could forget that there were books that described Joffrey having her stripped and beaten or her wedding night with Tyrion or . . she pushed the thought away.
She did not remember most of the walk back, her thoughts all a jumble as she headed home barely paying attention to the path or anyone she might have seen. She could feel her face burning and she near went at a run she wanted to be away from everyone so badly.
It did not help when she reached home - she flung down the bag and felt faint but she did not take two steps into her and Caspian's room before she saw the new addition. A wardrobe. Not a new one. A familiar one. Littlefinger had given her Lysa's wardrobe after her aunt's death though the finer things had not been appropriate for her to wear. She arrived on this island in one of Lysa's gowns - one of the ones from when she was young and slim. She'd been pleased, she remembered hollowly for the things that fit were fine and there had been drawers of jewels as well. But all Sansa could now think of that was those books that would describe her lady aunt's jealous ravings and attempt to push Sansa out the moon doors. And the fact that Sansa had done nothing when her lady aunt had been murdered by her own lord husband. She'd helped him hide it. She'd had to, she told herself. She needed Littlefinger and her aunt would have killed her but this did not make her feel at all better.
If there was anything left in her at all Sansa was sure that she would be sick again - but there wasn't so she rushed out of the house sat down on the steps of the porch and burst into tears, her whole body shaking with her sobs as she felt overwhelmed with shame and worry. Did anyone else know about these books. What would Caspian think - her family. She should have burned them straight away - she still should but she couldn't seem to bring herself to move.
Sansa didn't mind the walk at all, and besides if Susan had went there was a decent chance that Rickon may have had a tantrum. Sansa suspected she was far from his favourite aunt simply because he's seen so much of her recently when he wanted his mother.
She found some actual baby clothing in the clothing box as well as some clothing with suitable material for them to use and she had gathered it all in a bag intending to head straight back to Susan's with it.
But something on the bookshelf caught her eye and she moved closer. The Dance of Dragons was a well known Westerosi tale and one old enough that Sansa wouldn't mind it - but it didn't look like a Westerosi book. And by the time she got closer to the shelf it was gone and instead she found four large hardback books. She pulled one out wondering how she had possible misread a title about Swords as containing dragons. Then she opened it and dropped it horrified unable to believe what she had read. She picked it up and read it again - and pulled the other volumes off the shelf and scanned through them again and again finding her name and her family's name and reading about things best left forgotten.
Sansa had not had a moment of mother's stomach in this pregnancy apart from when her nerves overtook her in the dream of Westeros. But she felt nauseous now. She fled to the ladies bathroom and vomited until there was nothing left in her and even after that it was a long time before the heaving stopped. She had never felt more ashamed in her life - not even when Joffrey hurt her or when she had to tell her father his first grandchild would be bastard born.
She only came out of the bathroom because the thought of those books on the floor where anyone could see them forced her to pick herself up rinse her mouth and wash her face. She picked up the books and shoved them into the bag of material.
Sansa decided she would go home and burn the books, when she felt calm enough she would go back to Susan's and sew and pretend that this had never ever happened. As much as she could. But she did not think she could forget that there were books that described Joffrey having her stripped and beaten or her wedding night with Tyrion or . . she pushed the thought away.
She did not remember most of the walk back, her thoughts all a jumble as she headed home barely paying attention to the path or anyone she might have seen. She could feel her face burning and she near went at a run she wanted to be away from everyone so badly.
It did not help when she reached home - she flung down the bag and felt faint but she did not take two steps into her and Caspian's room before she saw the new addition. A wardrobe. Not a new one. A familiar one. Littlefinger had given her Lysa's wardrobe after her aunt's death though the finer things had not been appropriate for her to wear. She arrived on this island in one of Lysa's gowns - one of the ones from when she was young and slim. She'd been pleased, she remembered hollowly for the things that fit were fine and there had been drawers of jewels as well. But all Sansa could now think of that was those books that would describe her lady aunt's jealous ravings and attempt to push Sansa out the moon doors. And the fact that Sansa had done nothing when her lady aunt had been murdered by her own lord husband. She'd helped him hide it. She'd had to, she told herself. She needed Littlefinger and her aunt would have killed her but this did not make her feel at all better.
If there was anything left in her at all Sansa was sure that she would be sick again - but there wasn't so she rushed out of the house sat down on the steps of the porch and burst into tears, her whole body shaking with her sobs as she felt overwhelmed with shame and worry. Did anyone else know about these books. What would Caspian think - her family. She should have burned them straight away - she still should but she couldn't seem to bring herself to move.