Chapter Text
If she rolled her eyes any more, Sansa was certain they’d pop out of her head. It’d serve Arya right for abusing the aux cord, she thought grimly: see how she liked riding shotgun with an eyeball-less driver, that’d show her.
“Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you, I drink too much and that's-”
“Nope!”
“Honey, I'd walk through fire for you-”
“Ugh, trite!”
“Tell me how's it feel sittin' up-”
“Next!”
“No fair, you really know-”
“Blech!”
“I'm a sucker for-”
“Bo-o-ring!”
“Arya, just pick something, or I swear I’ll take that phone and chuck it out the window!”
“That’d be stupid, seeing as it’s your phone,” Arya sniped back. “Teach you to have better taste in music.”
“My phone?”
“Yeah, you should really change your password bee-tee-dubs, you always use the same pin for everything, ‘five-two-three-nine’.”
“No, and stop hacking my shit. What’s wrong with your phone?” Sansa demanded. “And there’s nothing wrong with my music!”
“Sound on mine’s busted, dropped it at the skatepark one too many times. Should’ve gotten it fixed before we left but I never found the time.”
Sansa bit back a retort; already a throbbing pain had taken up residence in her left temple, sure to later turn into a full-blown stress headache. The two of them- three, if you counted Nymeria- would be the only ones at the beach house until their siblings and mother joined them, or they went crazy and killed each other. Whichever came first.
The Starks had been vacationing in White Harbor for as long as Sansa could remember; every summer, they’d pack up and leave the usual stress of work and school behind them. The beach house had become a sanctuary from real life, a way to unwind and recoup; most of Sansa’s best memories of her family took place there. Just imagining how that first step on the sandy ground would feel made the five hour drive from Winterfell almost bearable.
Normally, their parents had tried to make the long car ride into part of the vacation; Ned and the boys would take one car, while Cat took the girls and the dogs in the van. They’d blast their favorite movie soundtracks- instead of the droning audiobook narration of whatever subject Cat was researching for her latest book- and sing along until their throats hurt. Sansa learned how to drive along this very route; it was her first time driving longer than to the dance studio and back, and she’d been utterly terrified for the first three-quarters of the trip. But once they got close enough to smell the salt air, she’d finally been able to relax and enjoy the remainder of the drive.
But this wasn’t like past years, something which Nymeria sitting alone in the back made perfectly, painfully clear. This would be Sansa’s first time at the cottage without Lady. The first time since Dad-
The driver behind them gave a loud honk, jolting her back into focus, and Sansa realized she’d slipped far below the speed limit. The car swerved and passed them before she could get back up to speed.
“Prick,” she grumbled. Next to her Arya was strangely silent; usually she loved to cuss at other cars on the road. In fact, she even looked a bit pale. “Hey, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Arya snapped. “Just focus on the bloody road so you don’t kill us both.”
“Only if you pick a song and actually stick with it.”
“… fine.” Arya skimmed through the song library a bit more before giving up on the phone entirely and digging around in the glove box for a CD. She hesitated a moment before popping one in the player. It started playing and Sansa recognized it as a mix the two of them had put together years ago, full of now-dated pop tunes that skipped from being dropped one too many times. But at least it was something, anything to keep her mind from spiraling off about how strange this summer would be. Arya seemed to calm down from whatever’d come over her just then, and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thanks, by the way,” she said begrudgingly, “for driving with me.”
Arya shrugged, fiddling with the end of her faded purple braid. She’d come back over winter break with her dark hair bleached and dyed a violent shade of purple, which had since faded to a softer lilac; Sansa figured if this was Arya’s way of acting out then it wasn’t successful, because although Cat seemed rather annoyed by the color, she hadn’t scolded her even once.
“S’not like I have any other way there, but you’re welcome.” In the backseat, Nymeria whined. “Nym says thanks too.”
Sansa glanced in the rearview mirror at where the massive wolfdog was sprawled out over their duffle bags, having made herself perfectly at home. “Well, she’s very welcome.”
“She also says you’ve got shit taste in music.”
The pounding in her temple picked up again. Only three hours to go…
---
They’d just reached the town outskirts when Arya insisted they stop so she could pee; Sansa had been tempted to tell her to just hold it until they got to the house, but then Nymeria started to do her ‘if-you-don’t-let-me-out-this-second-I-will-piss-all-over-your-car’ whine. Sansa relented on the condition that they wait until they got to the craft market instead of stopping on the side of the road (because she had no interest in finding herself in a B-flick horror movie, thank you very much). The wolfdog looked back at Sansa in the mirror, her expression undeniably smug. Arya and Nymeria had always been scarily in tune with each other, just like she’d been with Lady. Sansa tried not to feel bitter about that, with only moderate success.
With the sun going down the market had closed for the day, but there were still vendors milling around packing up their wares. Arya was out the door before Sansa had fully put the car in park, dashing off to the park office in search of a bathroom leaving Sansa to deal with Nymeria. Predictably, now that they’d actually stopped Nymeria was much less interested in doing her business than she was in sniffing around the market stalls.
“Typical,” Sansa muttered, giving Nymeria’s leash plenty of slack while they loitered around the edges of the market place. It was only about a half hour’s drive out from town, but the Starks had always stopped here; first because they had several young children and dogs that invariably needed to take a pee break, then because it just became tradition. One of the regular vendors had sold lemons with peppermint sticks stuck in them like straws: the acidity of the lemon would hollow out the center of the stick like a straw so you could suck up the juice, the tart of the lemon melding with the sharp sugar of the peppermint. It was a treat she and her dad always shared. Briefly she considered getting one while she waited for Arya, but it looked like the produce vendors had already left.
Sansa looked around the colorful stalls, hoping to at least get in some decent people watching. There were a couple familiar signs advertising vendors who’d been selling there for years, but almost none of the figures milling around belonged to anyone she recognized- except for one, a woman about her mother’s age with grey curls, wearing a tie-dyed muumuu. Before Sansa could decide whether to say anything, the other woman spotted her and broke into a wide grin.
“As I live and breathe, is that little Sansa Stark?”
She ducked her head somewhat bashfully, tugging Nymeria away from whatever smell she was focused on and walking over to where the woman was packing up. “Hi, Ms. Harlaw, it’s nice to see you.” Alannys Harlaw had always insisted that the Stark kids call her by her first name, but somehow Sansa could never manage it. Which wasn’t to say that she wasn’t nice or Sansa didn’t like her- quite the opposite, in fact- it was just too weird to call her childhood friend’s mother by her first name.
Alannys gave a soft, maternal tut and pulled Sansa down into a hug. She smelled like sandalwood with a hint of fading sunscreen, and wore numerous necklaces and bangles that clinked when she moved. When Alannys pulled back to study her with laughing grey eyes, her smile was just as warm as Sansa remembered.
“Still so polite as ever!” she exclaimed. “My goodness you got tall, you look just like your mother. Where is she?”
“Ah, it’s just me and Arya, for now,” Sansa explained. “Rickon’s in summer school so Mum’s gotta stay back for a bit. But she says she needs to finish some work anyways, so it’s cool.” Sansa desperately hoped Alannys wouldn’t ask what work was so important that Catelyn couldn’t be here with her daughters.
“What about your brothers?”
Ticking them off on her fingers as she went, she said, “Jon has an internship, Robb’s got work, and Bran’s working at this summer camp.”
“That sounds wonderful, I’m so glad Bran’s keeping busy!” And oh no, there it was; the look. That pitying look, the one that was always followed by the usual empty platitudes: ‘we were all so shocked to hear about the accident, poor Bran, and your father…’
Thankfully Arya decided to show up just then and Sansa was saved from having to hear any more.
“Alannys!” Arya squealed, barreling over and flinging her arms around the older woman with such gusto Alannys actually stumbled back.
“Arya, look at you!” she said, laughing at the girl’s exuberance. “No, look at that hair!”
Arya laughed and tossed her head around so the loose strands around her face shook. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it!” Alannys declared.
“Yeah? I did it myself.” Arya couldn’t help but preen a little at the praise, so different from Cat’s reactions to her hair. But then, the two women had little in common on the surface: a renowned history professor at a prestigious university, and an eccentric artist from a long line of watermen who lived on a houseboat.
“Really? Oh that’s just fantastic sweetling, are you still doing art?”
“I hope so, seeing as I decided to major in it,” Arya quipped.
Sansa shifted awkwardly as she watched them talk, not sure how to join in or if she’d even be welcome to. She’d always been known as the polite one, but it was Arya who actually knew how to talk to people and make them like her. The difference between being friendly and having friends, Sansa guessed.
“Well girls, this has been lovely, but I’d better head home before Dagmer worries something’s happened to me,” Alannys said, looking over at her packed up car. Glancing up at the sky, Sansa was surprised by how dark it had gotten in just the short time they’d been stopped. They walked Alannys over to her car and helped her make sure the last of her boxes were secure. “But we must have you over for lunch, and then you can tell me all about what you’ve been doing! I’m sure Theon will be happy to see you both.”
“Theon’s around?” Sansa blurted out. She didn’t know how she felt about that, or what to make of her sudden outburst. She hadn’t talked to Theon since the accident, but there’d been a time where he was a staple of their summers at White Harbor. Growing up, Theon and the older Stark boys had been joined at the hip, tearing around the town and spending hours out on the water. In truth Sansa had a bit of a crush on him as a kid, but a three year age difference was a lot when you were a teen and she didn’t want to be that clichéd little sister crushing on her brothers’ friend, so she’d done her best to bury that crush deep down.
It also surprised her that he’d still be hanging around at home instead of elsewhere. She’d been expecting him to be off doing other things, like most of her White Harbor friends or even her brothers. Part of her wanted to ask Alannys why he’d stuck around, though she quickly decided that would be too awkward.
“Yes, he’s working down at the wharf this summer. I’ll tell him you two are in town,” she offered.
Sansa immediately tried to backpedal, saying, “oh you don’t have to do that, I’m not even sure when Robb and Jon will be able to get time off-” but Alannys cut her off, bracelets clinking as she waved a hand haphazardly.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s no trouble,” she said fondly. “Now, drive safe and we’ll talk tomorrow, darlings.”
They watched Alannys drive off until her taillights disappeared, then got back into their own car and continued on.
---
Despite having been empty for three years, the beach house was still in pretty good condition. Catelyn had a caretaker check up on it every now and then, with the assumption always that ‘this summer would be the one’ they’d all be back. They parked the van and Sansa shot off a text to Cat letting them know they’d made it, then started unloading their duffels. She opted to leave their bicycles in the back for now, while Arya went on ahead to let Nymeria into the fenced yard. When Sansa made her way to the front door, she was surprised to see that the front steps had been replaced with a ramp; it made sense that Cat would have had the house made accessible in preparation for Bran, but it was still a stark reminder of what had changed.
Inside, however, was exactly as Sansa remembered leaving it: the floorboards at the entrance scuffed by sandy feet and dappled with saltwater stains; the couches and chairs with their mismatched throw pillows, covered with plastic protectors; every surface covered with knick-knacks they’d made or found while combing the beach. It was still neat and tidy but it had a cozy lived-in feel, the sort that came when a building had been loved for years.
Next to the door was a set of hooks with the bedroom keys neatly hung beneath all their names. At first there’d just been the master bedroom and the girl’s room, leaving the boys to sleep on the couches, but then Bran and later Rickon came along and they’d finally had the two extra rooms added on. Even then, the kids often slept outside in sleeping bags, so they could stay up late sitting around the fire pit competing over who could tell the scariest story.
‘Robb & Jon’, ‘Sansa & Arya’, ‘Bran & Rickon’, ‘Cat & Ned’, the sign read, the cursive letters of their names all painted in her dad’s steady hand. Sansa plucked her room key from the hook, forcing herself not to linger on Ned's name.
The bedroom she shared with Arya was less personalized than their rooms back home, though there were still hints of their interests here and there; copies of their favorite books, extra drawing paper and pencils, stuffed animals neither had played with in years but couldn’t bear to get rid of. On the small dresser by her bed, there was a picture of her and Ned out on a sailboat; Sansa quickly put it away in the desk drawer before she could think twice about it, then got to work unpacking her bedding and setting up her side of the room for the night. She’d unpack the rest of her belongings in the morning once she’d recovered from the long drive.
Back out in the lounge, Arya had sprawled out on the couch, the dust covers strewn around the floor. She’d pulled out her laptop and was swiping through the files furiously, presumably trying to figure out what were the best pieces to show Alannys. Or, maybe she was already trying to coordinate plans with her boyfriend Gendry, who lived in White Harbor but went to the same university as Arya; they hadn’t seen each other since the semester ended, and even though she tried to hide it, it was obvious Arya was desperate to see her boyfriend in person. Nymeria had wolfed down her food- no pun intended- after not being fed breakfast in preparation for the long car ride, and was now doing her best interpretation of a shag carpet. Sansa carefully stepped around her and plucked up the dust covers, doing her best to mash them into something resembling a fold.
“Hey what’dya want to do for dinner, I’m starving,” Arya piped up when she noticed Sansa.
“Hmmm…” Sansa drew it out, like there was really any question about where they were going to go their first night in White Harbor. Usually they tried to at least get the essentials for the bare bones kitchenette, but she didn’t have it in her to make a grocery run. “How about… Marya’s?”
Arya broke into a wide grin. “Marya’s.”
---
The girls rode their bicycles into town rather than take the van. Ma Marya’s Diner was the sort of establishment that could be called retro, except it hadn’t been styled that way, it was simply old enough to have seen multiple style changes before eventually abandoning trying to keep up with the times. As such it exuded a liminal sort of energy; you could spend hours in there without feeling like any time had passed.
They locked their bikes up and stepped inside, the tinkling bell above the door heralding their arrival. Behind the counter, a busboy noticed their arrival. His eyes lit up and he started waving furiously.
“Arya!” he shouted, looking momentarily embarrassed for being loud, though the other customers didn’t seem the least bit concerned by the noise. Arya grinned and strolled over to the counter, Sansa trailing behind.
“Hey Devan, lookit you working all by yourself,” she said, hopping up on a stool. The boy blushed under the praise.
“S’not so hard. Also, Hot Pie’s workin’ the grill, and Mum’s back doing inventory,” he explained. Then he noticed Arya wasn’t alone and added, as an afterthought, “oh, hi Sansa.”
“Hi Devan,” she tried, but he was already off finding them menus, chatting with Arya all the while. Sansa resisted the urge to pull out her phone and text her White Harbor friends to see if they’d had a sudden change in plans and would be available. The Manderly sisters were staying on their uni campuses to do work, and Mya was doing a field school out of the country; Myranda was travelling visiting family but said she might be back in town this summer, though she made no promises.
Resentment burned in her throat as she looked over the menu while Arya chatted and laughed with a kid she barely knew, acting for all the world like they were old friends. That had always been the way, Arya making friends wherever she went while Sansa struggled to hold on to the few friends she had. She found she missed Jeyne and Beth fiercely, whereas in previous years she was usually too wrapped up in vacation fun to feel homesick; she even missed Margaery, despite having grown distant with her college roommate since she started dating Robb. What in the hells was wrong with her, she wondered, watching how easily Arya conversed with Devan, then the couple seated next to her at the counter.
Sansa ordered a simple combo, more interested in speed than anything else. The sooner they ate, the sooner she could openly wallow in how pathetic she felt right now. While they waited for their order to be filled, she noticed the jukebox wasn’t playing. The song selection was limited and the sound always came out a little tinny, but it was an essential part of the diner’s atmosphere and it felt wrong to be sitting here without it playing. She wandered over and started perusing the song list, fishing in her purse for a coin; she was about to drop the coin in the slot when a voice stopped her.
“Don’t waste your money, dearie, that old hunk of junk hasn’t worked in over a year.” It was Marya Seaworth, still wearing her work polo and nametag like anyone in town didn’t know who she was.
“Hi Marya.” Sansa let the older woman pull her into a hug.
“It’s so good to see you girls. How are you doing?” she asked. Sansa reached for the usual bland response, the ‘I’m fine’ that satisfied people enough to move on, but something gave her pause this time. There was something warm and understanding in Marya’s eyes that made it difficult to pretend.
She stammered out, “I-I…”
The smile Marya gave her was tinged with melancholy. “That’s okay, sweetling. You don’t have to be alright.” Sansa was reminded that Marya’s eldest son Dale had died in a fishing accident several years ago; she knew better than most how it felt.
“Does it…” Her voice wavered. “Does it ever stop hurting so much?”
Marya hummed thoughtfully. “No,” she said at last. “But you learn to live with it.” She patted her cheek, leaving a smear of flour behind.
“Now, it looks like Devi’s got your order up, so go tuck in. I’ve gotta go relieve Hot Pie.”
Sansa gave a weak smile but did as she was told. Arya had moved from the counter over to an empty booth and was already half done with her meal. Sansa settled into the bench across from her and started eating. She was busy smothering her hash browns in catsup when Hot Pie came out from behind the counter; though apparently finished with his shift, his eyes lit up when he spotted Arya waving him over.
“Hiya guys, how goes it?” he asked, slipping into the booth on Arya’s side. “How was the drive?”
“Super long,” Arya complained around her mouthful of food, drawing the word out for emphasis. “An’ Nym’s been cooped up in the van all day without a proper walk, so she’s gonna be a proper terror tonight.”
“Aw, I don’t blame her,” Hot Pie chuckled. “Hey Sansa, what new tricks has Lady learned? Dev didn’t believe me when I told him all the tricks she can do, you gotta show him-”
“Lady’s dead.” The words came out much sharper than she meant them to, but it was too late to take them back. All the delicious food she’d just eaten turned to concrete in her stomach at the look on poor Hot Pie’s face, and she scrambled to do damage control. “I’m sorry, that was mean. You didn’t know.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m sorry to hear that, she was a really great dog,” he said sympathetically.
“Thanks.”
The bell over the door tinkled, announcing a new customer, and Arya sat bolt upright at the sight of whoever entered. Sansa was seated with her back to the door and had to turn to see, and in that time Arya was scrambling over Hot Pie and racing over to them. It turned out to not be a customer at all but Gendry.
“Thought he wasn’t going to be back in town for a few more days,” Sansa muttered, turning back to her plate. She actually really liked Gendry, but him being here threw what few plans she had for this summer completely out of whack; things had been so strained between her and Arya for so long now, she’d been hoping to use this time to reconnect, just the two of them.
“He actually managed to get off early, but he wanted it to be a surprise,” Hot Pie said.
Of course he did, Sansa thought. Because that was just the sort of thoughtful boyfriend Gendry was, damn him. Watching how Arya practically vibrating with happiness in his presence, Sansa couldn’t bring herself to be mad. Though would it really hurt them to back off on the PDA just a little?
Finally coming back up for air, Arya suddenly remembered other people besides Gendry existed. She dashed back to the booth to snatch up her phone and bag.
“Gendry and I are gonna go hang out, don’t wait up!” she called over her shoulder, not waiting for a response before hurrying out the door. That left just Sansa and Hot Pie, and judging by the way Hot Pie was shifting in his seat, he was about to leave too.
“Well I guess I’d better get home now,” he said awkwardly. “Good seeing you. And hey, we’ve still got some lemon pie, if you're interested. Bye, I guess!”
Sansa waved her goodbyes to him, then looked down at the cold, congealed mess the rest of her meal had become. That lemon pie sounded awful good, she thought, and flagged down Devan to add a slice to her order. The tangy sweetness eased the bitter feeling in her throat, the cool creamy filling melting in her mouth just like always; at least some things stayed the same.
After she’d finished the piece and paid for her and Arya’s orders, Sansa biked back to the house alone. Nymeria was still fast asleep when she entered and barely twitched when Sansa let the door bang shut behind her, or while she struggled to find a place to put the bike in the lounge, scraping her shin in the process. She ended up leaning it against an overflowing bookshelf behind one of the couches.
Despite the beach house ostensibly being a no-work zone, there was evidence of her parents’ scholarly work all over the place. Books on the Ghiscari wars and the Rhoynar migration, comparative studies of the major Braavosi religions, multiple volumes devoted to studying the Blackfyre rebellions from every imaginable angle. Most of the books either featured essays by her parents, or had been used by them as sources. One in particular caught her eye, the title embossed along the spine in fancy lettering: ‘A History of Wartime Ethics,’ by Eddard Stark, PhD, ThD.
Before she could decide whether to take it down from the shelf, someone rapped at the door. She paused, her finger hovering just on the edge of the book; the knocking continued, finally startling Nymeria awake. It must have been Arya, realizing she’d forgotten something. That had better be the case, Sansa thought, because if Arya thought she’d put up with being sexiled on their first night there then she had another thing coming.
Sansa took her sweet time walking back to the door, letting herself indulge just a little in making her sister wait. “Arya, don’t tell me you’ve already forgot your key-” She threw open the front door, fully expecting to see Arya waiting there sheepishly.
Instead, she came face to face with Theon Greyjoy.