Chapter Text
“She needs help, Ned.”
“Losing Bran was hard enough...”
“All the more that we have to do everything we can to save Sansa.”
A snowstorm in the early days of December had greeted Eddard and Catelyn Stark that night. The sound of the wind brushing the kitchen window from outside filled the silence that surfaced between the pair. It was pass 11 and surely everyone of the Stark children had already drifted off in sleep. It was the perfect time for the pair to discuss what had been happening to one of their daughters for the past couple of weeks. The two sat across each other; a wooden dining table separating the two and both of them with a mug of hot cocoa in their hands to somehow relax the nerves that just couldn't settle down.
The last time they felt this agitated was four years ago. The pain of what happened to one of their youngest, Bran Stark, was a wound that was still healing. And now it was as if they were reliving the memory, but with their eldest daughter, Sansa Stark.
“She says she hears things...” Catelyn adds as she noticed Ned wasn't going to make any remark with her last statement.
“That's what Bran said too. Does she hear the same things he did?” Ned asks before taking a sip of the cocoa.
“I don't know, Ned...” Cat answers, eyes starting to well up. “I miss him...” She sighs. “We lost one child already—I can't lose her, Ned. W-We have to help her.”
Ned had seen that expression on Cat's face more often for the past four years. He thought this was something that would lessen now that their family was starting to heal. But with the events that transpired, he could only contemplate on why this was happening to their family again. It pained him as a father and a husband that he couldn't protect his family; that all the misfortune that was brought upon them was not under his control to reverse. He felt weak and he felt helpless. Hurt with the look on Cat's face, he places the mug on the kitchen table as he stands up from his seat, making his way to Cat's side and enveloping her in his embrace. Catelyn starts to sob, holding onto her husband tightly.
“I-I can't go through this again, Ned. I just can't.” She cries.
“Shhh..” He hushes whilst hugging Cat a bit tighter. “I'll call Mace first thing in the morning. He'll know what to do. It isn't too late, Cat.”
Meanwhile, Sansa Stark had been on the staircase throughout her parents' conversation. The darkness had kept her hidden and she attempted to be as silent as possible. She listened intently but most of the content she couldn't decipher. All she heard was her name, but in between important details and the sobbing all she could hear was the voices that sprung out whenever they pleased. Was she going mad? She thought.
Sansa takes a handful of her hair squeezing them in her palms as if it would help somehow eradicate the voices in her head. It was tiring her out, driving her to insanity. On most days she heard that distinct voice underneath a bunch of other voices on top of it. It was noisy and it was crowded, that she couldn't even hear herself think. It incapacitated her—disabled her. And she didn't know how much more of it she could take. But at that moment all the background noise was silenced however that distinct voice remained and seemed to be roaring louder at her.
Burn them all.
Burn them all.
She kept hearing.
Burn them all.
Burn them all.
It kept saying.
“Make them stop...” She wept, hiding her face between her knees.
"Just make it stop."