NALIA QUITE HATED BEING BETWEEN NED AND SANSA'S FIGHT. She hated having to pretend that she didn't want to spend time with Ned. She hated hearing Sansa complain about her father.
"I mean, can you believe him?" Sansa exclaimed as she paced back and forth in Nalia's bed chambers. Nalia had been listening to her complain about her father for the past hour, and she had frankly gotten sick of it.
"Sansa!" Nalia shouted. She stood and walked towards the girl, stopping whens he stood right in front of her. She placed her hands on Sansa's shoulders. "Your father is alive and well. He is a good father and he loves you. You are luckier than you allow yourself to believe."
Sansa deflated at Nalia's words. She knew that she was right, but she couldn't help the anger bubbling inside her. Sansa had never had a good grasp on her temper, even when they were children.
"Yes. If you truly feel that way." Sansa turned on her heel and left the room, closing the door harshly behind her.
She didn't see Sansa till later when she was accompanying Arya later at the tournament.
"Lover's quarrel?" Petyr Baelish entered the room, a smirk on his face. Nalia felt her bones chill at the man. Her entire life she had relied on her intuition, and she knew from the moment she laid her eyes upon Littlefinger, that he was a very bad man.
Sansa halted as she looked at the man. "I'm sorry. Do I...?"
"Sansa dear, this is Lord Baelish. He's known..." Septa Mordane was at a loss for words as she tried to describe Petyr.
"An old friend of the family. I've known your mother a long long time." He smiled down at Sansa, a glint in his eyes which indicated less than innocent thoughts. Even though Nalia knew that her Sansa were still fighting, she came to stand close to the girl.
Arya butt into the conversation. "Why do they call you Littlefinger?"
"Arya!" Sansa scolded her younger sister.
"Don't be rude!" Septa Mordane scolded as well, but Nalia kept her mouth shut as she looked up at Petyr.
He looked back at her, holding eye contact. "No, it's quite all right. When I was a child I was very small and I come from a little spit of land called The Fingers, so you see, it's an exceedingly clever nickname." He explained as she looked back at Arya.
From behind them, Robert Baratheon shouted. "I've been sitting here for days! Start the damn joust before I piss myself!"
A large man entered the court, he towered over everyone in the crowd. Nalia could tell through all his armour and helmet that he was an insanely muscular man. Likely able to crush her without a thought.
"Gods, who is that?" Sansa asked Petyr.
"Ser Gregor Clegane. They call him the Mountain. The Hound's older brother." Petyr explained as he looked down at the girl.
"And his opponent?" Nalia asked before Sansa could.
"Ser Hugh of the Vale. He was Jon Arryn's squire. Look how far he's come." He finally removed his eyes from Sansa and laid them upon Nalia. Which was exactly what she wanted, she wanted him to keep his eyes on her rather than Sansa. She would rather him have disgusting thoughts about her than Sansa. Anyone but Sansa.
"Yes, yes. Enough of the bloody pomp. Have at it!" Robert yelled once more.
Petyr looked between the two girls as they watched the jousting, a disgusted look upon both of their faces. They usually didn't even realize when they were thinking the same thing.
"Not what you were expecting? Has anyone ever told you the story of the Mountain and the Hound? Lovely little tale of brotherly love. The Hound was just a pup, six years old maybe. Gregor a few years older, already a big lad, already getting a bit of a reputation. Some lucky boys just born with a talent for v*olence. One evening... Gregor found his little brother playing with a toy by the f*re... Gregor's toy, a wooden knight. Gregor never said a word, he just grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the burning coals. Held him there while the boy screamed, while his face melted. There aren't very many people who know that story." Petyr whispered to the two girls.
"We won't tell anyone. We promise." Sansa always said that. It was always 'we' and not usually 'I'. She often thought of herself and Nalia as two halves of the same coin, two halves of people making up one. She had never felt as connected to anyone as she had felt towards Nalia. Which was why she turned her head and smiled at Nalia.
On Sansa's part it was an innocent thing, she was simply smiling at her friend. Her closest friend. It had made that part of Nalia that she pushed so far down want to kiss her. So foolish, she knew it too, but she couldn't help but think about it.
The girls walked hand in hand as they began getting ready for bed. "He is quite a peculiar man, Littlefinger." Sansa spoke as she brushed through her long hair. "Don't you think?"
"Quite." Nalia softly took the brush from Sansa and continued to brush her hair. Nalia was sure that she loved that ritual the most, running the brush through Sansa's silky red hair. "Did I tell you what Jon gave me before he left?"
Sansa's brows furrowed, jealousy building inside. "He gave you a gift?"
"Yes, quite an odd one." Nalia set down the brush to retrieve the dagger from the box that she had left it in. "A dagger." She held it up in the candlelight to show Sansa.
"Why would he give you that?" Sansa reached out and ran her finger over the steel. It had been practically untouched, she hadn't used it for anything.
Nalia looked at it, pondering for a moment. "To protect you from Princes, I'm sure." Nalia jokes, a smirk forming on her lips.
Sansa shoved her shoulder as she tried to fight her smile. "You are horrible!" She teased.
"I am your favorite person in the world, and don't you forget it." Nalia pointed at he with the dagger before she slipped it back into the box.
Sansa blew out most of the candles littered around the room, leaving them in almost complete darkness.
Nalia crawled into the large bed, Sansa watched her as she did so. "Do you think we will ever love anyone like we love each other?"
Nalia thought for a moment, looking at Sansa. She thought how no one else really saw her like this, soft and sleepy. She thought how she could look at the sight for the rest of her life. "When you marry the Prince, I am sure you will love him."
Sansa moved to the other side of the bed, "As much as I love you?"
"Perhaps." Nalia hesitated for a moment. She had wanted to say no, she wanted to say that she wished for Sansa to love no one else as she loved her.
Sansa lied next to her, their bodies only a few inches apart. "I'm not sure I will be able to love anyone as much as I love you."
It was innocent, truly. The simple pureness of their childlike loving. The way they loved each other was that of poetry. It was simple and yet so complicated. It was so easy and hard at the same time. Loving each other came so easily to them, but loving each other was something else entirely.
Nalia felt her heart stutter as she looked at Sansa. Her very best friend.
"I understand. Perhaps I will just follow you wherever you go. Maybe I will not return to Winterfell, and I will spend the rest of my days as a spinster." The two girls laughed. "Why would I ever need anyone else's love when I have yours?"
Sansa smiled as she looked upon Nalia, her adoration clear in her eyes. "I wouldn't let you go back to Winterfell without me. I wouldn't let you go anywhere without me." Sansa grabbed Nalia's hand and held it in hers.
"Should you marry Joffery, I will be bitter. But...I will support you. It will be a wedding of the ages." Nalia squeezed her hand.
Sansa slowly drifted off to sleep, her hand still in Nalia's.
Nalia looked down at her hands, and then back at Sansa. Her soft features and how her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she slept. The rosiness of her cheeks, The curve of her lips. The occasional furrow or twitch of her brows. She noticed all of it. She found studying Sansa was her life's passion, even at the age of thirteen. She knew that Sansa was the only person she ever wanted to be around, even when she was mad at her, especially when she was mad at her.
"Please don't ever forget about me." She whispered into the night.

xoxo,
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