Oathkeeper

Chapter 52: Visions and Courtship

*Slight Trigger Warning: This Chapter contains VERY VAGUE descriptions of Ramsay Bolton's assault on Sansa.*

Rickon fidgeted restlessly as he sat at his mothers vanity waiting for her to return with the hair brush. After contemplating for weeks he finally decided to work up the courage to ask her to braid his hair in a style she liked to wear, even if it was just to wear inside. Of course because his hair stopped just past his shoulders, and hers closer to her butt, she'd have to modify the style. To which he nor she had a problem with.

If there was anything Sansa loved half as much as she loved spending time with her family, it would be doing hair and sewing. She adored her son and all of his peculiar interests. No matter what he enjoyed doing in his free time, she was always going to be right there, supporting him through it.

A few colorful rolls of fabric flew across the bedroom, nearly missing the lit candles on the end table by the bed as Sansa searched through the bedroom. She remembered to check behind the vase of fresh flowers Brienne added to the clutter on their dresser yesterday and sure enough, there it was.

Sansa returned back to her place behind Rickon where she could see both of their faces in the foggy reflection. As soon as she started to run the brush through his curls, the boy hissed the air through his teeth, wincing as she hit many knots.

"Ow, mother," Rickon groaned, now making eye contact through the mirror.

"Well, I can't braid it until we've brushed out all the knots," She replied.

As gentle as she tried to be while continuing to brush through his hair, she still had to pause to relax his shoulders every time they tensed up from the sudden painful pull against the knot. He grew slightly agitated in the exaggerating mindset of possibly ending up with a crook in his neck from such a gruesome procedure like this.

Just as his eyes traveled up the mirror in search of his mothers attention again, he caught a sudden glimpse of the version of her from the woods. It whipped through his mind like the memory of a memory.  As much as he fought against the feeling, to him it was like staring at a different person. Of course it was still the mother he knew and loved, but he felt something he'd never felt for her before . . . pity.

He tried not to see her differently, but it was hard. The gruesome details of his mothers life left him conflicted, especially whenever she was near. Despite her smiles, he still felt angry. Despite her jokes, he only grew more serious. Her eyes glanced up at the mirror, then again now settling on the look he gave her. Although he tried to quickly divert his stare elsewhere she could tell that something was on his mind.

"What's that look for?" Sansa asked, putting the brush down.

"What look?"

"That look I just caught you giving me," She smiled warmly. "What's on your mind, dear?

"Nothing," He quickly responded.

Sansa began her first braid, still occasionally looking into the reflection to study his face. She searched for any sort of detail that would suggest what was on his mind, and tried to draw conclusions based on that. Yet still, she came up with nothing. Sansa despised secrets. They always left her feeling uninformed and unprepared. Which wasn't a good feeling to have as a wife, a mother, a Queen, as anything.

"Rickon" She sighed, now stopping again.

His eyes finally returned to the mirror. The way her eyebrows furrowed slightly suggested a familiar motherly worry. A feeling Rickon was used to combatting, but it was much harder when you had to look her in the eyes, especially after knowing the full truth.

"I don't wish to speak of it mother, please let's forget about it" He pleaded.

His pleas only served to worry the woman even more.  It usually didn't take this long to get her children to crack, especially Rickon. For some reason the sweet docile approach stroked their guilt and left them singing like a canary. So she knew that whatever the boy was hiding was heavy, and that only served to pique her concern. She didn't say another word, nor did she move, instead she stood there and looked at him through the mirror. It was only a moment before he-