I'm still alive! I'm soooooo sorry for taking so long to update, but the inspiration is just not there for this story. Honestly, I haven't been spending much time at all writing. The big thing about this story is that I don't quite know what direction I should be taking it. I had a great plan for it when I first started writing it, but looking over the plot and whatnot for later, I don't think I really like it.

Its so hard to make a decision on what I want to do. For one, this isn't a story I want to give up on. But I'm also at that point of "how do I go from here" that I'm kind of wondering if I should just scrap it all and start fresh… so, for now, I'm gonna put this story on a tentative hiatus. If I get a burst of inspiration, then I will most definitely post an update, but don't expect it.

For now, a short filler chapter in Sansa's point of view. It's not much, and for that I'm sorry, but unfortunately, it's all I've got for the moment.

Thank you to anyone who's still sticking with me on this story. I'll try!

Mourning

SANSA

Hoster Tully died mere days before they were set to disembark from Riverrun. She tried to feel sad—the man was, after all, her grandfather—but could only muster the feeling while watching her mother mourn. Despite their extended stay at Riverrun, Sansa had not had a chance to get to know her grandfather, but neither had she tried. When they had arrived, his health had already been rapidly declining.

The funeral would happen as soon as the preparations were complete. Sansa knew Robb was anxious to begin the march North, fearing that King Joffrey would retract his offer and call his aunt home, sending Tywin to finish them while they were distracted. Of course, they would have to stop at the Twins first, for Robb to choose his wife. If the Lannisters really did change their minds, that would be the perfect place to ambush them.

A bell tolled, signalling that the preparations were complete. She would have to join her family down at the docks shortly. Even Lady Lannister had been invited to pay her respects, though she would be under watch the whole time. Despite them saying she was a guest, she was being treated more like a prisoner. The woman didn't seem to mind, though Sansa, having experienced the same thing, had already expressed her disapproval to Robb. His lords and lady mother wished for her to be watched, he had told her, and no one, save the Stark children, were willing to follow her around.

Their lady mother couldn't, of course, prevent them from providing Lady Lannister with their company. Sansa chose to spend many of the rainy days in Lady Lannister's chambers, expressing her newfound frustrations with the woman. Her and Arya had seen many questionable acts while they were in King's Landing; their father had been imprisoned and nearly executed. While Sansa may have been able to act like the perfect lady, she was just as traumatized as Arya.

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She was being summoned to the docks, where they would witness the body of Hoster Tully be joined with the land and water. She gathered her cloak in her arms and joined the guard outside. He would bring her to her family, and then return her to the castle after.

Her breath was white in the air, showing that autumn was close, and winter not far behind. Despite the chill, she felt almost too warm, her newly made clothes nearly stifling. Her cloak remained in her arms, keeping her hands from the cold. Beside her, Arya tugged at her own cloak, her cheeks flushed.

They may have been children of summer, but they were still children of the North above all. While those from the Riverlands shivered under their cloaks, the Stark family stood proud wearing their summer cloaks, the only sign of cold in their flushed cheeks. Even their mother, originally from the south, stood unaffected by the new cold weather.

The late Lord Tully had already been placed in the boat, a cloak with the Tully sigil covering his body and his sword used during Robert's Rebellion placed on his chest. The boat, once far enough away, would be lit on fire so that Lord Tully's ashes could join the river.

Her feet were sinking in the mud. The most recent rains had left the ground even softer than it had been after the first rains. Sansa hoped the cold would harden the ground before they departed for the Twins. If it did not, she was sure the ride would take twice as long. The autumn snows had likely already begun in the north; she would hate to have to delay their departure once more. She was eager to see her brothers, even Jon.

Arya snickered, drawing her attention to the funeral proceedings. Lord Tully's boat had been set adrift, the current pulling him further down the river. Her uncle, Edmure, had released a burning arrow, though it had fallen short. Sansa was sure Bran could have hit the boat, had he been here. Robb had told her of his increasing affinity for archery on horseback.

Edmure had shot another arrow, the fire arcing through the air before falling short and extinguishing in the water. Arya snickered once more, their father sending her a silencing look before looking forward. Their uncle Brynden was becoming agitated. Sansa could not blame him. The boat holding Hoster Tully's body was nearing the bend in the river. Once it passed that bend, the arrow would no longer be able to reach it, leaving the late Lord Tully's body for the crows.

A third arrow missed, not even coming close to the boat. Arya snickered again as Brynden snatched the bow out of his nephew's hands. The flaming arrow flew true, igniting her grandfather's body just before the boat drifted around the bend.

Their mother's red-rimmed eyes quieted any other sounds that may have come from Arya, but she could see Robb attempting to stifle his own laughter. In the end, he settled with a cough, leading Arya away to allow their mother some peace.

They would be leaving for the Twins in the morn. All of their belongings had already been packed away and loaded onto wagons. They would be traveling by horseback, of course, to speed traveling along. Sansa feared that the trip would still take longer than they desired. The clouds were growing to the north, the color an angry gray. The early Autumn rains would surely slow them down.

Sansa still had not been to see Lady Lannister, not since her mother's outburst at dinner nearly a week ago. While Lady Lannister had been nothing but kind and courteous during her stay, Sansa's mother still could not stand her company. Robb had escorted their guest back to her room, and quietly urged her to remain in her rooms until they began their journey north.

She did not know what had caused the young woman to spirit them away from King's Landing, but she did wonder if the woman held any regrets. Since their arrival, she had been abused by their mother, kept prisoner in her chambers, and had several attempts on her life. Sansa knew she would likely come to regret her decision, had she been in the young woman's place.

Regardless, she couldn't bring herself to look at Lady Lannister, not knowing that she was in the same position Sansa was in not long ago. They could call it whatever they liked, but the true name would be prisoner. Arya would be better company, despite their age gap.