Chapter Text
Sansa has a lot of respect for her mother. Dr Catelyn Stark had completed medical school while pregnant with her first child, and eventually came to be a massively accomplished OBGYN while raising five children. She’s written a book on prenatal care and co-authored a paper on the critical failures of the medical system when it came to birth and maternity services for Free Folk women. The document led to systematic reforms and greater public awareness, hailed as a landslide achievement in the field of medicine.
It wouldn’t have been possible without her husband electing to stay home and look after their five children. Sansa knows her household is unusual in that sense, but Ned Stark had wanted to ensure his wife’s career could thrive without the additional pressures of housework and childcare. That's probably where Sansa gets her boundless sense of romantic sentimentalism from, to be honest. Her parents had set the bar too high.
Her mother's a real modern women. Accomplished, in every sense of the word, with a beautiful family and a loving husband to boot. A forward-thinker, with strong, positive opinions on sexual liberation, women's rights and equality. She did grow up during the 70's after all, a true product of the 'Free Love' movement.
So, yeah, her mother’s pretty cool.
Except for right at this moment.
“Mum,” Sansa whines. She’s sitting on the couch opposite from her mother, who has her no-nonsense doctor face on. “This is so embarrassing, please!”
“Sansa, we need to talk about this.” Catelyn’s voice is stern. Sansa knows that tone well. It's never ended well for her.
Sansa huffs, her face bright red. “I told you, nothing happened!”
“I wasn’t born yesterday,” her mother replies. “I saw you two.”
Sansa drops her face into her hands. She had returned from a date with Harry, her almost boyfriend, the night before; their good-bye had been passionate, to say the least. Sansa had never intended to stay in Harry’s car for as long as she did. Maybe if she had been thinking straight, teenage brain chemicals unfogged, she would have guessed that her parents would go looking for her.
At least it was only her mother. Sansa would have died on the spot if it had been her father.
“Now,” her mother continues briskly, “sex is a normal part of life-”
“Mum!” Sansa squeals.
“Bleh,” Arya, her younger sister, grumbles beside her. “Why do I have to be here for this?”
“Because you’re both at that age. This applies to both of you.”
Arya makes a face, looking no happier than Sansa. She's picking at the black polish on her fingernails; Sansa wrinkles her nose as she takes in the state of them.
“We’ve already had the sex talk! Why do we have to do it again?” Sansa asks in exasperation. She turns her eyes upward, praying for the gods to zap her out of existence.
“Obviously it didn’t stick the first time,” Catelyn says evenly. “When I asked that boy-”
“Interrogated, more like,” Sansa huffs. She cringes as she thinks of the lecture she and Harry had received last night after her mother had caught them. That had been a truly miserable experience. Sansa's face still burns at the thought of it.
“Having desires at your age is perfectly normal. But you need to be safe about it. That means protection, every single time. Not negotiable. Clearly, Harry knows next to nothing about that.”
“Obviously, that’s because the public school system has failed to provide him with adequate sex education,” Sansa says smartly. “Is it his fault he’s at the mercy of an underfunded institution?”
Her mother dismisses that. “That’s hardly the point. When I asked him point-blank about condoms, he said and I quote, ‘oh, doesn’t pulling out work?’”
Sansa really likes Harry, but she wishes he had just kept his mouth shut instead.
“Well, I know about it! I wouldn’t let him…y’know, without it.” Sansa’s pretty sure she’s crimson at this point. She actually hasn't had sex with anyone; she's always been determined to save it for the 'right' guy. As of now, Harry is a strong candidate.
Arya makes a sound of disgust next to her. Sansa wants to die.
“Yes, I know. But you’re also a teenage girl with a crush and that can lead to unwise decisions. Do you know I’m currently treating a pregnant sixteen-year-old? Do you want that to be you?”
“Obviously not!”
“And your grades have been dropping. I think this boy is a distraction.”
“I’m fine!” Sansa argues. “I got an A for my last History assignment!”
“And a B for English and a C for Mathematics,” her mother responds.
Well, both are technically true.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with Harry!”
Could she have done better for maths? It is true that she went out the night before her test because Harry wanted to take her to a movie. But she won’t tell her mother that. And yes, for English, she had been a little distracted because her assignment was around the same time as his birthday.
But what was she supposed to do? Not celebrate him turning eighteen?
“Regardless, I think you should take a little break from dating. What about your scholarship, Sansa? If your grades drop, you can kiss your spot at Kings Landing University goodbye.”
The thought of that is unsettling. She had worked so hard to secure that prestigious spot; as long as she could remember, she had wanted to go down south.
“Are you banning me from seeing Harry?” She asks, ignoring the flutter of panic in her stomach.
Her mother sighs. “You need to think about your future. Maybe just for the meantime…”
Sansa loves her mother, but knows she’s also unnecessarily stubborn and occasionally single-minded when it comes to certain things. When she sets her mind to something, there's very little anyone can do to change it. It's how she's managed to become so successful.
“It’s not fair,” she says, sitting back and crossing her arms. “Aren’t you, like, restricting my sexuality and how I can express myself?”
Her mother raises an eyebrow. “You can have all the sex you want when you secure your scholarship. As long as Harry wraps it up each and every time."
Sansa groans into her hands and Arya laughs, leaning back into the couch.
Sansa perks up. “Wait! What about Arya? Can she date?”
Catelyn hesitates and Sansa pounces on the weakness.
“Arya can’t date if I can’t!” She declares triumphantly.
“What?” Arya squawks.
“I mean, not that it’s an issue. She’s so grody and obviously doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Sansa says.
Arya glares at her. “How would you know, brainless?”
Sansa tosses her hair. “Duh, I would have seen you guys around school. Besides, everyone is scared of you.”
Arya hadn’t dated anyone yet. It's her own fault, Sansa thinks. She's rude and scary and off-putting. She spends most of the school day glaring at people, and only hangs around the other weirdos. If only Sansa could put a little bit of mascara on her…
“Like I want a stupid boyfriend anyways,” Arya sneers.
Sansa should have stopped the conversation earlier. She should have looked at her mother and fled from the room, realising that she was about to walk into a trap.
“Well, that’s settled it,” her mother says approvingly. There's a gleam in her eye Sansa doesn't like.
“What?” Both girls ask.
“Sansa can date only when Arya does,” her mother says, smiling in satisfaction.
The girls are frozen, mouths agape; they watch their mother leave the living room, and turn to look at each other.
Surely, her sister will be reasonable. Harry is her first (almost) proper boyfriend and she really, really likes him.
"Arya," Sansa says breathily, "please, please, please-"
Her sister grins evilly at her. "Guess your precious Harry won't be around as much anymore."
She's cackling as she leaves the room and Sansa buries a scream into a pillow.