Sansa Stark had always considered herself a proper lady. She always made sure that she looked her best, as well as making sure that she preformed her duties as the second oldest lady in the household. She always tried her best to make sure that her younger siblings behaved themselves and stayed out of trouble; Bran and Rickon did this just fine. Arya, her little sister, did not. She was the complete opposite of Sansa, not only in looks but also in character. Sansa had long auburn hair and bright blue eyes, just like her mother, who was born a Tully. Arya, on the other hand, had dark hair and equally dark eyes, just like their father, Ned Stark. The stark personality was very present in Arya too; she liked to fight and ride with the boys. Sansa was more like her mother. She was sweet and dainty, and very, very sensible. In fact, if not for her last name, nobody could have guessed that Sansa was a Stark.
As well as having two little brothers and a younger sister, Sansa also had two older brothers...well, one and a half. Her parents oldest child was Robb. He had a very Stark personality, but had the distinctive features of a Tully, much like Sansa (all be it not as prominent). In true manly fashion, Robb like to hunt with his father and brother, and practice his swordsmanship as often as he could. One thing that he prided himself on was his ability to fight. Robb was probably the sibling that Sansa was closest to. Granted, she did not spend heaps of time with him, or her other siblings for that matter, but he was always there for her when she needed him. He was always the first person she went to when she needed advice, or when she needed cheering up; he was defiantly a brother that she could always rely on.
Finally there was her older brother Jon Snow. From an early age, Sansa had always been told that Jon was not her mother's child, only her father's. He was a basterd. Even when she was small and could understand little of the world around her, Sansa could always sense the contempt that her mother held for Jon. Just like any other child, Sansa followed her mother's example and treated him as less than a sibling. Whereas the others treated him as just another Stark, she saw him as a brother that should keep his distance. As well as this, she referred to him as half-brother, maybe to show him what he will always be to her.
But as Sansa matured, so did her views on the world around her. While she still remained a proper lady and what not, she did notice that she had been treating Jon rather badly. He had been nothing but nice to her, and she had turned her nose up purely because of her mother's feelings towards him. Her other siblings had always disliked the way she treated Jon; she felt so awful she wanted to apologize. Unfortunately, she was so embarrassed by her actions she could muster up the courage to even do so, that she dealt with the problem the only way she could think of: by ignoring him. It had worked for the better part of two years, with her only speaking to him when absolutely necessary.
The last member of her family (if you can call him that) was Theon Greyjoy. He was a ward of her father's and Robb's best friend. He was a few years her senior, and had been around for as longs as she could remember, always there with the rest of them. She had never noticed him that much before, and she was sure that he had never noticed her, but as they all sat dining together a few weeks after her sixteenth name-day, she could have sworn that his eyes darted to her a little more often than they normally did.
"So Father, when will the king arrive?" Robb asked Ned, before beginning to eat his dinner. Ned sat for a moment, chewing on his food. After he swallowed he answer: "A few nights from now."
Robb gave a short nod to his father, and turned to talk to Jon who sat beside him. They had begun a rather lengthy discussion about what they should next teach Bran.
"More sword work?" suggested Jon, his palm coressing the stubble that had begun to grow on his chin.
Robb shook his head. "No. Something more challenging. How about the bow and arrow?"
Jon nodded in agreement, just as Arya's voice piped up from the other end of the table. "Can i take the lesson with you to?" she asked eagerly, almost bouncing in her seat. Sansa knew how much her sister wanted to wear boyish things and do boyish activities...she couldn't help but resent her a bit for that. Why couldn't she have a sister that wanted to play dress up and talk about boys?
"Of course not, Arya." Snapped their mother. "Women should learn how to sew, not how to fight. Isn't that right Ned?" Her husband mumbled a short and quiet response, not really wanting to get into this discussion with his wife.
Sansa watched the scene in front of her with a little jealousy. Robb and Jon's grins told her how much they wanted to train Arya. Though she was sure they would train her if she asked, she knew they would be nowhere near as excited, unlike they were with Arya. They would think that she would squeal every time she had to pick up something dirty.
Sansa let her eyes travel from her brothers to Theon. He was staring at her again, but the moment she caught him, he looked away. She pursued her lips and looked down at the table, blush rising to her cheeks. That defiantly wasn't the first time that she's caught him staring tonight.
"What's got you so flushed, little sister?" asked Robb in a teasing manner. She looked up, shocked and quickly tried to mumble a reply.
"Just thinking about Joffery and whether or not he'll like me..." she trailed off. It was not entirely a lie. She was conscious of what the future king would think of her, but that defiantly wasn't what had made her blush just moments before.
"He'd be a fool not to like you." Said Jon kindly, as Robb nodded his agreement.
"Thank you, Jon."
He smiled at her and continued on with his dinner. Great, she thought, another nice thing to compare to the horrid ones. She sighed an inward sigh and continued on with dinner, hoping not to have to say another word. It was easier that way.
When dinner was finished, she and Theon were the last to leave. She had slowed her pace deliberately, wanting to be alone for just a moment, but Theon had mumbled something to Robb about meeting him later. He was now watching her intently, as she readied herself to leave the table.
"Sansa," he began, in a voice that voice that seemed to aged for his body, "I don't believe I've had the chance to tell you how beautiful you've gotten."
Heat rose to her cheeks once more, a reaction to his more than flattering words. "Thank you, Theon." If there was one thing she liked, it was compliments (and the occasional lemon cake).
"No need to thank me. I'm just speaking the truth."
With that, he rose from his chair, and exited the room. Before he left, however, he paused and turned, as if he wanted to say something more. But he obviously thought the better of it and left, without another word said.
Even after he left, Sansa couldn't seem to get the heat to leave her face. It was that small reaction to his words that helped her realise that maybe, just maybe, she had crush, on Theon Greyjoy.
