Primrose and Sansa had fled to Star Lake, knowing Margaery was in Amaya. Primrose had found out that at the same time Margaery joined Amaya, so too did Prim’s grandmother, Irina. The lion girl had been begging Sansa to go to Amaya to find her grandmother and Margaery. But Sansa wasn’t sure she was comfortable with Amaya’s law. She didn’t want to sleep with just anyone, and it seemed like Amaya didn’t really do mates - plus, after Sansa’s close brush with Joffrey, she wanted to stay maiden for a little while. Amaya would discourage that, she knew.
“Sansa, pleeeeease,” begged Prim. “My grandma is there - and so is Margaery! And I want to know what happened to Tytos and Tyrion.”
Sansa didn’t want to say it, but she was fairly sure Primrose’s brothers would be dead by now. She, Nanala, Margaery, and Prim were the only ones who’d escaped from Drekistone. Everyone else was said to have been slaughtered, and for last had been saved Queen Cersei. Burned alive, Sansa had heard, and she shuddered to think of that kind of death. Cersei had deserved it, but still.
The water was still. Sansa was thirsty, but she almost didn’t dare to disturb the tranquil peace it held for itself. She opted to simply stare at the lake. Primrose fell quiet beside her, plopping down. “Sansa, you don’t want to go. Do you?”
Sansa sighed, trying to find a way to explain herself. “I would love for you to meet your grandmother, Prim. But . . . I don’t want to go to Amaya, and there is no way I am letting you travel there by yourself. I’m not sure I’m very comfortable with Amaya’s law. Where I grew up, the men always have the right of choice, and the women aren’t fighters or anything. Women don’t get to choose who they lay with. And technically, a lot of children in Amaya will be bastards, which are taboo where I grew up.”
Prim was quiet for a bit, digesting this information. “I’m a bastard, though. So was my mother, and her brothers and sister - and so many of us are in Starfall. Maybe not many of us in my family line were born out of love, but plenty of bastards are born from love. Father and Evil Aunt Cersei were naughty and had bastard children together, but it was love, no matter how sinful. Myrcella, my half-sister, was an incestuous bastard, wasn’t she? But she was good and sweet, a strong wolf. Bastards aren’t bad just because they are bastards - I think that where you were born, everyone just makes a shame out of loving.”
Sansa’s brain was thoroughly fried by this piece of wisdom. No words came when she opened her mouth to speak.

“The worst ones always come back.”