Her son. Her son! As she started to turn, she felt the hands release her rump and grab for her wrist. Oh, it felt so good. But she needed to stop, eve... if she didn't want to. Before she could muster anything her hands were being forced against the wall. They were rocking slowly and more gently now. This felt soo good, why did it need to stop. Because she loved her husband that why. But her ... its her ...! She needed to stop this, use her legs, something. She was definitely fighting him, but he. They made out in the Godswood"Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment. She looked at Arya. “What did you think of Prince Joff, sister? He’s very gallant, don’t you think?”"Jon says he looks like girl", Arya said.Sansa sighed as she stitched. “Poor Jon,” she said. “He gets jealous because he’s a bastard.”“He’s our brother,” Arya said, much too loudly. Her voice cut through the afternoon quiet of the tower room. Septa. More

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