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chapter forty one. steel wrapped in silk
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𝕿ALIANA spoke whispers with Ser Farrell, her chamber was lit up with candles—it hadn't been long since Sansa had left Taliana's bed chambers to let Taliana and Jon talk.
Jon had left Taliana only a few minutes ago, and was replaced by Ser Farrell whom enjoy the Princess' company.
The door to Taliana's bedchambers opened and Ser Farrell stood up. His arm going to properly hold onto his sword on his hip, Sansa poked her head inside.
"Are you alon–Oh?"
Sansa's face was pale, Taliana looks up immediately, Sansa's eyes wide and glassy with a thousand emotions she hasn't voiced. Taliana stands in alarm.
"Sansa? What's wrong? Come—Ser Farrell was just leaving."
Taliana gives Ser Farrell a look which he nodded and bowed his head low, mumbling a quick, "Princess," Before passing by Sansa and whispered, "My Lady."
Sansa stands at the door, she doesn't speak. She walks forward slowly, as if moving hurts. Then, she breaks.
"Littlefinger wrote to me, wishing to meet with me," Taliana listened, her body crossed the room to meet with Sansa.
"What did he say?"
"He said he needed to see me after hearing I escaped Winterfell. He acted as if he didn't know who he sold me to."
Taliana steps forward, reaching for her hands, "Only fools would say Littlefinger didn't know what kind of people the Boltons are."
Sansa half laughed half sobbed, "He acted as if he didn't know—apologizing like he wasn't the one whom was supposed to protect me! He saved me from a family whom murder my father only to sell me off and marry a man's som whom would—"
Taliana pulled her into her arms, "You do not need to tell me, if you do not wish it."
"I do," Sansa pulled away, her hands shaken and Taliana grabbed a hold of them, the warmth of her hands made Sansa voice less shaken, "He would come to me at nightfall. He never touched my face. He needed Ned Starks daughter's face. But my body—oh he would need that to make him an heir."
