nxymria:

     For a moment she freezes up in
     her sister’s arms. Affection isn’t
     something she’s had much of in
     the last thirteen years and it takes
     a moment for her muscles to 
     remember how to move, to remind
     themselves of where to put her arms
     and hands. But it only takes a moment
     before Arya hugs Sansa back, burying
     her face in copper colored hair just 
     like their mother’s. When they pull
     away and Sansa cups her face, Arya
     smiles a bit and tries not to think of 
     their mom. It’s a hard thing, though. 

        “Don’t be sorry. Thought a lot of
     things too. But listen, I know Bran
     and Rickon are still alive. Robb’s
    in jail and Jon’s doing another tour
     but Sansa—— we’re all still here.”

     Just scattered, the way their father
     had warned against. Her own hands
     move up to cup her sister’s face too
     and she can’t help but grin now 
     because finally finally she gets to see
     her again. She feels stupid for every
     dumb little fight they ever had, feels
     horrible for not having reached out
     to her sooner. “I would’ve gone to
     you but everything was a mess and
     I didn’t even know where to look for 
     you. Who taught you how to drop 
     off the grid like this??”

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

              It is… it’s too much. She has so 
       many apologies, so many things she
       wants to say. To A S K. Do you know
       where they buried mom and dad? When
       did you grow so thin? Oh, Arya I’m really
       really–

               "–They’re alive?“ The words are
       choked, not quite able to slip past the
       stone in her throat, unyielding and hot
       with tears unshed. Her brothers, her
       younger brothers. Oh, she’s been duped
       so thoroughly. Fair cheeks turn a shade
       of red, damnable hope glittering in those
       sapphire eyes. The pads of her fingers
       are no longer smooth, unworked, and yet
       she holds her sister so gently, so infuriatingly
       tender as though fearing she might just…
       ｆａｄｅ   ａｗａｙ.

               ”Don’t lie to me Arya, I swear to God.
       They told me– he told me–“

               A   s h a r p  inhale. Be it anger or just
       overwhelmed, Sansa finds herself furiously
       blinking, her hands letting go of her sister’s
       face only to encircle her bony wrists. ”Petyr.
       Petyr Baelish. Mom’s friend, you remember?
       I– I didn’t know where else to go.“