It took her time to peel herself off of the bed. Ramsay had long since left. Where he went, Sansa didn't ask. She knew he'd left, and that he would return in time. Every time he left she prayed he would never return, but so far the gods had been far from kind. It was almost as if they took delight in seeing her in pain.
She knew Ramsay certainly did.
It was terrible- everyone here knew what he was like. What he did. And yet he carried on in public as though he loved his young wife. It was a cruel game, as everything was to him. But she would not die here- she was Sansa Stark of Winterfell and this was her home. She would survive, find strength in the cold that ran in her blood. But it was hard to always remember that, when her body felt broken, her soul so weary.
Assuming she was alone in the room, Sansa's long, elegant fingers pulled on the sheets, her pale legs, crossed at the ankles, brought up to her chest. It was then she began to weep.
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I said something about fluffy comforty escapism shippy something didn't I?
It took her time to peel herself off of the bed. Ramsay had long since left. Where he went, Sansa didn't ask. She knew he'd left, and that he would return in time. Every time he left she prayed he would never return, but so far the gods had been far from kind. It was almost as if they took delight in seeing her in pain.
She knew Ramsay certainly did.
It was terrible- everyone here knew what he was like. What he did. And yet he carried on in public as though he loved his young wife. It was a cruel game, as everything was to him. But she would not die here- she was Sansa Stark of Winterfell and this was her home. She would survive, find strength in the cold that ran in her blood. But it was hard to always remember that, when her body felt broken, her soul so weary.
Assuming she was alone in the room, Sansa's long, elegant fingers pulled on the sheets, her pale legs, crossed at the ankles, brought up to her chest. It was then she began to weep.