The marriage ceremony had been a blur of vibrant colors, warm sunlight, and the heady scent of spices carried on the Dornish breeze. Now, as you walked with Sansa through the lush gardens of your home, she seemed entranced by her surroundings. The rich hues of blooming flowers, the cascading fountains, and the exotic plants unlike anything she had seen before captivated her completely.

Sansa trailed her fingers along the petals of a bright orange flower, marveling at its softness. “It’s so beautiful here,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with awe. “I never imagined a place could be so alive with color. The North is… well, it’s not like this.”

She turned to you, her blue eyes sparkling with something close to excitement. “What is this one called?” she asked, pointing to a delicate flower with deep red blossoms. “It’s like something out of a song.”

As you explained the name and its origins, she listened intently, hanging on your every word. Her smile was small but genuine, a hint of the joy she had always dreamed a marriage might bring. “You must think me foolish,” she said with a soft laugh, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “But it all feels like a story from the books I used to read as a girl.”

She hesitated, then glanced up at you. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her cheeks faintly pink. “For showing me this. For… being kind.”