#my friend made me watch GoT and jon snow= hot the man has a resting sigma face all the time ok? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr’s website traffic is steadily declining.

#my friend made me watch GoT and jon snow= hot the man has a resting sigma face all the time ok?

thethoughtgavemeanxiety · 6 months

Text

Aspecs this one’s for you.

Do y’all feel shameful when you see someone or something that is highly worshipped by societal understanding, and you do not feel that worship in that way? Like i have an idea of what is “hot” and what is “romantic” but sometimes when i see it in fiction/people i just feel empty and then feel guilty bc that is not normal. Hello? Anyone?

58 notes · View notes

butterflies-dragons · 3 years

Text

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

(Title from the namesake poem by e.e. cummings)

Jon Snow, Sansa Stark & Winterfell. An exploration.

A/N: This composition in no way denies the connection of the other Stark children, Robb, Arya, Bran, and Rickon, with the north, Winterfell, the weirwood tree, and the old gods, but focuses primarily on Jon and Sansa.

I. WHITE AS BONE, RED AS BLOOD

(Art credit: White Wolf by Kay-Ra)

Have you ever stopped to think about how Ghost, Jon's direwolf, is always described as the weirwood tree?

The weirwood is a species of deciduous trees found in Westeros, now found most commonly in the north and beyond the Wall. The five-pointed leaves and the sap of weirwoods are blood-red, while the smooth bark on their wide trunks and wood are bone white. Most weirwoods have faces carved into their trunks. This was done by the children of the forest in ancient days, and is now done by the free folk as well as other descendants of the First Men, such as followers of the old gods in the Seven Kingdoms praying to heart trees in godswoods. In some cases sap has collected in the crevices of the carved faces, giving the trees red eyes which have been known to drip sap as if the trees were weeping. A weirwood will live forever if undisturbed. Weirwoods are considered sacred to the followers of the old gods, and children of the forest believe weirwoods are the gods. [Source]

The weirwood tree is always watchful and silent:

The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay. No redwoods grew here. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armored in grey-green needles, of mighty oaks, of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded close together while twisted branches wove a dense canopy overhead and misshapen roots wrestled beneath the soil. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names.

—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn I

Bran had always liked the godswood, even before, but of late he found himself drawn to it more and more. Even the heart tree no longer scared him the way it used to. The deep red eyes carved into the pale trunk still watched him, yet somehow he took comfort from that now. The gods were looking over him, he told himself; the old gods, gods of the Starks and the First Men and the children of the forest, his father's gods. He felt safe in their sight, and the deep silence of the trees helped him think. Bran had been thinking a lot since his fall; thinking, and dreaming, and talking with the gods.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran VI

The weirwood tree is also called the heart tree:

At the center of the grove an ancient weirwood brooded over a small pool where the waters were black and cold. "The heart tree," Ned called it. The weirwood's bark was white as bone, its leaves dark red, like a thousand bloodstained hands. A face had been carved in the trunk of the great tree, its features long and melancholy, the deep-cut eyes red with dried sap and strangely watchful. They were old, those eyes; older than Winterfell itself. They had seen Brandon the Builder set the first stone, if the tales were true; they had watched the castle's granite walls rise around them. It was said that the children of the forest had carved the faces in the trees during the dawn centuries before the coming of the First Men across the narrow sea.

—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn I

The most famous weirwood tree in Westeros is the one in the godswood of Winterfell:

When Jon closed his eyes he saw the heart tree, with its pale limbs, red leaves, and solemn face. The weirwood was the heart of Winterfell, Lord Eddard always said … but to save the castle Jon would have to tear that heart up by its ancient roots, and feed it to the red woman’s hungry fire god. I have no right, he thought. Winterfell belongs to the old gods.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Now, let’s see how Ghost is described:

—A Game of Thrones - Bran I

And suddenly Ghost was back, stalking softly between two weirwoods. White fur and red eyes, Jon realized, disquieted. Like the trees …

—A Game of Thrones - Jon VI

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Benjen watched Ghost with amusement as he ate his onion. "A very quiet wolf," he observed. "He's not like the others," Jon said. "He never makes a sound. That's why I named him Ghost. That, and because he's white. The others are all dark, grey or black."

—A Game of Thrones - Jon I

Even Ghost backed off a step, baring his teeth in a silent snarl. The direwolf was big, but the mammoths were a deal bigger, and there were many and more of them.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon II

In the dark, the direwolf's red eyes looked black. He nuzzled at Jon's neck, silent as ever, his breath a hot mist.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon III

As the weirwood is called the heart of Winterfell, Ghost is also part of Jon:

When he finally put the quill down, the room was dim and chilly, and he could feel its walls closing in. Perched above the window, the Old Bear's raven peered down at him with shrewd black eyes. My last friend, Jon thought ruefully. And I had best outlive you, or you'll eat my face as well. Ghost did not count. Ghost was closer than a friend. Ghost was part of him.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon III

The face carved in Winterfell’s heart tree, is described as “long”, “melancholy”, “solemn”, “watchful” and “brooding”:

—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn I

At the heart of the godswood, the great white weirwood brooded over its reflection in the black pool, its leaves rustling in a chill wind.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran III

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

When Jon closed his eyes he saw the heart tree, with its pale limbs, red leaves, and solemn face.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

These features: “long”, “melancholy”, “solemn”, “watchful” and “brooding,” are distinctive of House Stark, and we find them specially in Ned Stark and Jon Snow:

Jon’s eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran I

"I see." His uncle glanced over his shoulder at the raised table at the far end of the hall. "My brother does not seem very festive tonight." Jon had noticed that too. A bastard had to learn to notice things, to read the truth that people hid behind their eyes. His father was observing all the courtesies, but there was tightness in him that Jon had seldom seen before. He said little, looking out over the hall with hooded eyes, seeing nothing. Two seats away, the king had been drinking heavily all night. His broad face was flushed behind his great black beard. He made many a toast, laughed loudly at every jest, and attacked each dish like a starving man, but beside him the queen seemed as cold as an ice sculpture. "The queen is angry too," Jon told his uncle in a low, quiet voice. "Father took the king down to the crypts this afternoon. The queen didn't want him to go." Benjen gave Jon a careful, measuring look. "You don't miss much, do you, Jon? We could use a man like you on the Wall."

—A Game of Thrones - Jon I

Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close. Jon had their father’s face, as she did.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

She [Arya] even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

She might have overlooked a dozen bastards for Ned’s sake, so long as they were out of sight. Jon was never out of sight, and as he grew, he looked more like Ned than any of the trueborn sons she bore him.

—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn II

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little of herself in her son.

—A Game of Thrones - Tyrion II

When he had gone, Eddard Stark went to the window and sat brooding. Robert had left him no choice that he could see. He ought to thank him. It would be good to return to Winterfell. He ought never have left. His sons were waiting there. Perhaps he and Catelyn would make a new son together when he returned, they were not so old yet. And of late he had often found himself dreaming of snow, of the deep quiet of the wolfswood at night.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard VIII

"Why should Lord Karstark want him dead?" Catelyn asked. Robb looked away into the woods, with the same brooding look that Ned often got. "He … he killed them …"

—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn X

Riding through the rainy night, Ned saw Jon Snow's face in front of him, so like a younger version of his own. If the gods frowned so on bastards, he thought dully, why did they fill men with such lusts? "Lord Baelish, what do you know of Robert's bastards?" "Well, he has more than you, for a start."

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard IX

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

All in black, he was a shadow among shadows, dark of hair, long of face, grey of eye.

—A Clash of Kings - Jon I

“Who’s this one now?” Craster said before Jon could go. “He has the look of a Stark.” “My steward and squire, Jon Snow.”

—A Clash of Kings - Jon III

And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

Even after stumbling into his narrow bed, rest had not come easily. He knew what he would face today, and found himself tossing restlessly as he brooded on Maester Aemon's final words. […] Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born."

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon II

As you can see, Jon Snow’s face is as “long”, “melancholy”, “solemn”, “watchful” and “brooding” as the face carved in Winterfell’s heart tree.

To sum it up:

The children of the forest believe that the weirwoods are the old gods themselves.

In Ghost (red eyes, white fur, watchful eyes, silent), we have a symbol of the weirwood tree (red leaves, white bark, watchful eyes, silent).

The weirwood is called a heart tree, and Winterfell’s weirwood in particular is called the heart of Winterfell.

The weirwood is a part of Winterfell (its heart) as Ghost is part of Jon.

The face carved in Winterfell’s heart tree, is described as “long”, “melancholy”, “solemn”, “watchful” and “brooding”. This description also fits Ghost’s master: Jon Snow.

In Jon Snow and Ghost we really have symbols of the weirwood tree. Jon Snow and Ghost represent the heart of Winterfell.

Now, let’s talk about Winterfell.

II. RAISED AFTER THE LONG NIGHT

Have you ever wondered what the name Winterfell means? Has it something to do with the Stark’s motto Winter is coming?

Let’s analyze the semantics of the words that form the name. The word ‘winter’ doesn’t need a major explanation, we all know its meaning. And for the word ‘fell’, we have this:

Noun: 1. The English word fell comes from Old Norse fell and fjall (both forms existed). It is cognate with Danish fjeld, Faroese fjall and fjøll, Icelandic fjall and fell, Norwegian fjell with dialects fjøll, fjødd, fjedd, fjedl, fjill, fil(l) and fel, and Swedish fjäll, all referring to mountains rising above the alpine tree line. [source] 2. A hill or other area of high land, especially in northwest England. [source] 3. A high barren field or moor. [source]

So, the name “Winterfell” could mean “wintry mountain(s)”.

Verb: 1. Past simple of “fall.” 2. Transitive verb: a) to cut, knock, or bring down; b) kill.

Adjective: 1. evil or cruel [source] 2. a) fierce, cruel, terrible b) sinister, malevolent c) deadly [source]

I think George masterly played with the word “fell” as a verb and as an adjective here, because:

As the past simple of “fall,” winter + fell could refer to “the arrival of winter.”

For example:

"You mean the Others," Bran said querulously. "The Others," Old Nan agreed. "Thousands and thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was cold and hard and endless beyond all memory of man. There came a night that lasted a generation, and kings shivered and died in their castles even as the swineherds in their hovels. Women smothered their children rather than see them starve, and cried, and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks." Her voice and her needles fell silent, and she glanced up at Bran with pale, filmy eyes and asked, "So, child. This is the sort of story you like?"

—A Game of Thrones - Bran IV

It is also from these histories that we learn of the Long Night, when a season of winter came that lasted a generation—a generation in which children were born, grew into adulthood, and in many cases died without ever seeing the spring. Indeed, some of the old wives' tales say that they never even beheld the light of day, so complete was the winter that fell on the world.

—The World of Ice and Fire - Ancient History: The Long Night

Rhaenyra's chief supporters were her good-father Lord Velaryon, her cousin Lady Jeyne Arryn, and Lord Stark (though his help was slow in coming, as he kept every man to harvest what they could before winter fell on the North).

—The World of Ice and Fire - The Targaryen Kings: Aegon II

Then, “Winterfell” (winter + fell) could be used as the Stark motto, once the winter arrived.

But the verb “fall” also means:

1. to be beaten or defeated [source] 2. to be defeated or fail [source] 3. to suffer ruin, defeat, or failure [source]

So, “Winterfell” (winter + fell) could mean that “the Long Winter (Long Night) was defeated.”

Indeed, Brandon the Builder could have chosen the name “Winterfell” (winter + fell) for everyone to remember that the First Men and the Children of the Forest defeated the Long Night:

The greatest castle of the North is Winterfell, the seat of the Starks since the Dawn Age. Legend says that Brandon the Builder raised Winterfell after the generation-long winter known as the Long Night to become the stronghold of his descendants, the Kings of Winter.

—The World of Ice and Fire - The North: Winterfell

But if we use “fell” as an adjective for winter (fell + winter) it means: a fierce, cruel, terrible, sinister, malevolent, deadly winter, that would be the perfect description for the Long Winter (Long Night).

For example:

However, if this fell winter did take place, as the tales say, the privation would have been terrible to behold. During the hardest winters, it is customary for the oldest and most infirm amongst the northmen to claim they are going out hunting—knowing full well they will never return and thus leaving a little more food for those likelier to survive. Doubtless this practice was common during the Long Night.

—The World of Ice and Fire - Ancient History: The Long Night

I think George paid homage to J.R.R. Tolkien with the Long Winter (Long Night), because some similar events happened in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings World:

Fell Winter (First Age), was an especially long and bitter winter, with ice and snow from November to March.

Long Winter, was an extremely cold and long-lasting winter in Middle-earth, covering Eriador, Dunland and Rohan.

Fell Winter (Third Age), was an extremely cold and long-lasting winter in Middle-earth.

See: “Fell + Winter” (The Long Night) & “Winter + Fell” (Victory over the Long Night). We have to admire George here, it's amazing how good he is with the English Language.

Now let’s go back to Winterfell the castle. “Legend says that Brandon the Builder raised Winterfell after the generation-long winter known as the Long Night.” A castle rising after the end of winter... Where did I read about a castle rising after the winter fell before??? Oh yes! That’s from my favorite Sansa chapter:

The snow fell and the castle rose. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

This is such a beautiful scene with such a beautiful wording. GRRM not only gave us foreshadowing of Sansa re-building Winterfell in the future, but he also crafted that scene as a reminder of the First Men and the Children of the Forest victory over the Long Night at the Battle for the Dawn.

Dawn is what follows after the night ends, and it is Sansa Stark, a descendant of Brandon The Builder, a character heavily linked with the sun and morning and light (in other words: heavily linked with the Dawn), that wakes up, at dawn, to build a castle out of the snow that fell over the Eyrie’s Godswood, to build her home, the greatest castle of the North, Winterfell.

And as history repeats itself, the Long Night could be back again, so that’s why the Starks are always saying that “Winter is coming”. The Stark’s motto sounds like a warning for all the realm.

Yes, suddenly all of the Stark’s sayings, pronounced by our good old Ned, sound like warnings about the Long Night:

"The winters are hard," Ned admitted. "But the Starks will endure. We always have."

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya II

And my favorite line from Ned:

'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true … but what if we prevail?'

—A Dance with Dragons - Davos I

So, the second coming of the Long Night is certain, this has been foreshadowed since AGOT:

North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then beyond that curtain. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks. Now you know, the crow whispered as it sat on his shoulder. Now you know why you must live. "Why?" Bran said, not understanding, falling, falling.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran III

But we also know that the Starks will endure and prevail at the end. Even if Winterfell should fall, which is very probable, a new symbol of their victory over the Long Night will rise again. With a new Dawn, there will be a new Winterfell.

Now, let's talk about what Winterfell means to Jon.

III. HE WANTED IT AS MUCH AS HE HAD EVER WANTED ANYTHING

(Art credit: Jon finds Ghost, by Magali Villeneuve © Fantasy Flight Games)

In a few words, Winterfell is what Jon wanted, as much as he had ever wanted anything. He had always wanted Winterfell. But of course, since we are talking about Jon Snow, his strong desire for Winterfell would fill him with an enormous guilt; first and foremost due to his bastard status and secondly due to his vows as a brother of the Night’s Watch:

When Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. […] All he had to do was say the word, and he would be Jon Stark, and nevermore a Snow. All he had to do was pledge this king his fealty, and Winterfell was his. All he had to do … …was forswear his vows again.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XI

“That morning he called it first. “I’m Lord of Winterfell!” he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, “You can’t be Lord of Winterfell, you’re bastard-born. My lady mother says you can’t ever be the Lord of Winterfell.” […] Why am I so angry? he asked himself, but it was a stupid question. Lord of Winterfell. I could be the Lord of Winterfell. My father’s heir. […] Stannis wants me to be the Lord of Winterfell. But what do I want? […] He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

In the end Jon rejected Stannis’s offer and gave up Winterfell and he did it mainly for the love he had towards his family. With that decision he also remained loyal to his vows to the Night’s Watch, so, in other words, he kept his honor by doing his duty.Someone please tell Lady Stoneheart that Jon Snow, among all the Stark children, is the one who more profoundly internalized the Tully words: “Family, Duty, Honor”.

If Jon had accepted Stannis’s offer, he would have had Winterfell, but at an extremely high price: burning the weirwood tree, which, to him, would be sacrilege:

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

What precisely helped Jon find an answer to Stannis’s offer was his beloved direwolf, Ghost; that is to say, a symbol of the weirwood tree.

Indeed, after their separation beyond the Wall, Ghost returned to Jon just in time to help him choose between his deepest desire and his family and duty:

It was a long moment before he understood what was happening. When he did, he bolted to his feet. “Ghost?” He turned toward the wood, and there he came, padding silently out of the green dusk, the breath coming warm and white from his open jaws. “Ghost!” he shouted, and the direwolf broke into a run. He was leaner than he had been, but bigger as well, and the only sound he made was the soft crunch of dead leaves beneath his paws. When he reached Jon he leapt, and they wrestled amidst brown grass and long shadows as the stars came out above them. “Gods, wolf, where have you been?” Jon said when Ghost stopped worrying at his forearm. “I thought you’d died on me, like Robb and Ygritte and all the rest. I’ve had no sense of you, not since I climbed the Wall, not even in dreams.” The direwolf had no answer, but he licked Jon’s face with a tongue like a wet rasp, and his eyes caught the last light and shone like two great red suns. Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one. And he alone of all the direwolves was white. Six pups they’d found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow. He had his answer then.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

And at this point, we all know what was Jon’s answer, right?

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

Yes, Jon’s answer was Sansa. Winterfell belongs to Sansa. He could have said ‘Winterfell belongs to my sisters Sansa and Arya’ or ‘Winterfell belongs to my trueborn sisters’ or ‘Winterfell belongs to the Starks’ but no. He said, more than once, that Winterfell belongs to Sansa. And I think there is an important reason for this wording. And that reason is that Jon and Sansa are destined to rebuild Winterfell and continue the Stark legacy.

Now let’s talk about Sansa, Winterfell and the weirwood tree.

IV. COME TO THE GODSWOOD TONIGHT, IF YOU WANT TO GO HOME

Sansa’s journey back home starts with a godswood.

(Art credit: Sansa meets Ser Dontos in the godswood of the Red Keep by Jonathan Burton)

“Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home.” With these words Littlefinger trapped Sansa using her deepest desire to go back home, to Winterfell.

"But . . . my lord, you said . . . you said we were sailing home." "You look distraught. Did you think we were making for Winterfell, sweetling? Winterfell has been taken, burned, and sacked. All those you knew and loved are dead. What northmen who have not fallen to the ironmen are warring amongst themselves. Even the Wall is under attack. Winterfell was the home of your childhood, Sansa, but you are no longer a child. You're a woman grown, and you need to make your own home."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

Littlefinger words were a vile lie, but the author’s words were telling the truth: Come to the godswood and you will be home, only in the godswood you will find home. But not any godswood. Only Winterfell’s Godswood is Sansa’s home.

It’s not a coincidence that every castle that Sansa visited in the south so far, had a godswood but not a weirwood tree. This image represents Sansa (the godswood) without Lady (the weirwood tree).

The south meant loss after loss for Sansa. And every one of those losses were seen as a cut from her northern roots. Without Lady, she lost her connection to the old gods. Without Ned, she lost her connection to House Stark. Without her hair color and true born status she lost her own identity and pride (Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone).

But while at a superficial level Sansa could be seen as not a Stark anymore, she was always a Stark, a wolf, a skinchanger, a child of the wintry mountains of the north, it’s just that the author decided to make it subtle, hiding all those signs of Sansa’s Starkness in a form of poetry that can be easily ignored at a cursory reading.

IV.1. SANSA AND WINTERFELL

The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter.

Sansa Stark was born at Winterfell, most probably during winter. She was the first Stark of the current generation that was born at Winterfell. Robb was born at Riverrun, Jon was born in Dorne, and while Arya, Bran and Rickon were born at Winterfell as well, they came to life during the long summer.

Sansa feels pride to be a Stark of Winterfell and she uses that pride as a source of courage in frightening situations:

Sansa struggled to steady herself. She felt like such a fool. She was a Stark of Winterfell, a noble lady, and someday she would be a queen.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

The hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

Sansa tried to run, but Cersei’s handmaid caught her before she’d gone a yard. Ser Meryn Trant gave her a look that made her cringe, but Kettleblack touched her almost gently and said, “Do as you’re told, sweetling, it won’t be so bad. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren’t they?”

Brave. Sansa took a deep breath. I am a Stark, yes, I can be brave.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard's daughter and Lady Catelyn's, the blood of Winterfell. She did not say it, though.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

Sansa would shine in the south.

(Art credit: Loras Tyrell gives Sansa Stark a rose at the Hand’s Tournament by Jonathan Burton)

Sansa has always loved Winterfell, I have no doubt about it. But she wanted to see more, the whole new world of the south, warmer and colorful places like the Riverlands from her mother’s childhood tales, she wanted to attend tourneys and feasts, to listen the songs from famous singers and poets, to play the high harp, to dance with gallant knights. In a few words, Sansa wanted to be a lady in a song, she wanted to live her own song.

But the north and Winterfell lacked all of that:

Amon Shin in Maine asks, “If you lived in Westeros, which house would you like to be part of, or in which area would you like to live?” GRRM: Well, you know, there’s something to be said for being an honorable Stark, but you’re kinda cold all the time and poor and so forth. And you have a lot of land, but there’s not a lot of stuff on it, you know? On the other hand, if you’re a Lannister, you have a nice house and all the gold you want and all of that stuff. So, there’s a lot to be said for being a Lannister. I don’t know. Maybe I could probably see me being a Lannister. And I would always pay my debts.

—A Dance with Dragons | George R.R. Martin | Talks at Google - July 2011

And so they left her direwolf and his bodyguard behind them, while they ranged east along the north bank of the Trident with no company save Lion's Tooth. It was a glorious day, a magical day. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of flowers, and the woods here had a gentle beauty that Sansa had never seen in the north. Prince Joffrey's mount was a blood bay courser, swift as the wind, and he rode it with reckless abandon, so fast that Sansa was hard-pressed to keep up on her mare. It was a day for adventures. They explored the caves by the riverbank, and tracked a shadowcat to its lair, and when they grew hungry, Joffrey found a holdfast by its smoke and told them to fetch food and wine for their prince and his lady. They dined on trout fresh from the river, and Sansa drank more wine than she had ever drunk before. "My father only lets us have one cup, and only at feasts," she confessed to her prince.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it all took Sansa’s breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind…and the knights themselves, the knights most of all. “It is better than the songs,” she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling. They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

She loved King's Landing; the pagaentry of the court, the high lords and ladies in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with all its people. The tournament had been the most magical time of her whole life, and there was so much she had not seen yet, harvest feasts and masked balls and mummer shows. She could not bear the thought of losing it all.

[...] They were going to take it all away; the tournaments and the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

Once, when she was just a little girl, a wandering singer had stayed with them at Winterfell for half a year. An old man he was, with white hair and windburnt cheeks, but he sang of knights and quests and ladies fair, and Sansa had cried bitter tears when he left them, and begged her father not to let him go. “The man has played us every song he knows thrice over,” Lord Eddard told her gently. “I cannot keep him here against his will. You need not weep, though. I promise you, other singers will come.” They hadn’t, though, not for a year or more. Sansa had prayed to the Seven in their sept and old gods of the heart tree, asking them to bring the old man back, or better still to send another singer, young and handsome. But the gods never answered, and the halls of Winterfell stayed silent.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

And who could blame her for those dreams and wishes? Certainly not the author. GRRM has projected his love for medieval tourneys, heraldry, pageantry, knights and chivalry on Sansa Stark:

That whole story (The Hedge Knight) is built around a tournament. I love medieval tournaments, reading about them, writing about them. There's of course some of them in the main books, but this was an oportunity in a time of peace, not war, to look at a mediaval tournament with all its pageantry and the jousting and the combat and reveal a little of Westerosi History.

—In conversation: George R.R. Martin with Dan Jones FULL EVENT- August 2019

Tolkien imitators who came after him, a lot of them created a sort of Disneyland Middle Ages, you know, a sort of Middle Ages like you might see at a Renaissance Faire, but you don't have the dysentery, or the torture, or the leprosy, or the innate sexism, or classism, or racism that was so built into so much of that world for so many centuries, you really have to take, you know, I like the knights in shinning armor, the heraldry and pageantry as much as anyone, but you also have to include the fleas.

— Neuchâtel International Fantastic Film Festival - NIFFF 2014

The novelist is midway through something of a European tour. After his trip to Switzerland, he is due in Scotland for the Edinburgh book festival. It has often been suggested that Ivanhoe (by the Scottish 19th-century novelist Walter Scott) was, alongside the War of the Roses, a major influence on A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones. Martin was first turned on to Ivanhoe by the 1952 MGM movie starring Robert Taylor, George Sanders and a young Elizabeth Taylor. "I think it was Elizabeth Taylor at the peak of her...," his voice tails off before he clarifies. "She was the most beautiful woman in the world. I think I was nine years old when I saw that movie. How could you not fall in love with her? But the jousting and the pageantry of it made me love that story. Later, in high school, I did read that book. For a modern reader, it's a little tough to get through. The prose is very Victorian and thick but if you fight your way through it, the story is there. It has everything the movie has and more – the heraldry and jousting and the insight into the times. It was an influence in that sense."

—GRRM - Independent - 2014

Firstly, thanks for that very thorough response on the tournaments and knighthood. Fascinating. In particular given the notes about _Ivanhoe_ and its influence -- I've only witnessed the A&E production of it, although maybe about time I read it. Seems it might be ripe for ideas. GRRM: IVANHOE is well worth a read, although the style is very old fashioned, of course. Still it has some fabulous characters and scenes, and so far as I know the definitive portrayal of a medieval tournament, both melee and joust. It has been filmed three times that I know of. The recent A&E production had some good moments, as did the older Sam Neill version... the CLASSIC version, however, is still MGM's 50s version, starring Robert Taylor, Elizabeth Taylor, and George Sanders. The jousts are wonderful, Liz is radiant, and George Sanders steals the film as Bois-Gilbert. You should definitely rent that one and have a look.

—GRRM - 1999

He was asked or mentioned most of the stuff that’s already been covered, but one thing he talked about that I found particularly interesting was Romanticism. He said that he is a romantic, in the classical sense. He said the trouble with being a romantic is that from a very early age you keep having your face smashed into the harshness of reality. That things aren’t always fair, bad things happen to good people, etc. He said it’s a realists world, so romantics are burned quite often. This theme of romantic idealism conflicting with harsh reality is something he finds very dramatic and compelling, and he weaves it into his work. Specifically he mentioned that the Knight exemplifies this, as the chivalric code is one of the most idealistic out there, protection of the weak, paragon of all that is good, fighting for truth and justice. The reality was that they were people, and therefore could do horrible cruel things, rape, pillage, wanton killing, made all the more striking or horrifying because it was in complete opposition to what they were “supposed” to be. Really interesting stuff.

—US SIGNING TOUR (SEATTLE, WA) - NOVEMBER 21, 2005

Happy Anniversary Parris, Here's to almost 40 years and hopefully many more <3 The motto of chivalry is also the motto of wisdom; to serve all, but love only one. ~Honore de Balzac

—GRRM - 2021

So, the perfect opportunity to leave the north and start to live her song came in the form of a betrothal with the Crown Prince and Sansa left her home with a heart full of hope and illusions:

She had last seen snow the day she’d left Winterfell. That was a lighter fall than this, she remembered. Robb had melting flakes in his hair when he hugged me, and the snowball Arya tried to make kept coming apart in her hands. It hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. Hullen had helped her mount, and she’d ridden out with the snowflakes swirling around her, off to see the great wide world. I thought my song was beginning that day, but it was almost done.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

But the great wide world outside Winterfell wasn’t as idyllic as Sansa has thought… On her journey to King’s Landing, she lost her direwolf Lady.

Lady wasn’t there. Lady was good. Lady never hurt anyone. She was innocent. But they kill her anyway.

(Art credit: Sansa with Lady. Illustrated by Smirtouille © Fantasy Flight Games)

All of the Stark children were blessed with a direwolf and the ability to change skins with those magical creatures.

The direwolves were sent by the old gods to protect and guide the Stark children:

Arya darted back, frightened now, but Joffrey followed, hounding her toward the woods, backing her up against a tree. Sansa didn't know what to do. She watched helplessly, almost blind from her tears.

Then a grey blur flashed past her, and suddenly Nymeria was there, leaping, jaws closing around Joffrey's sword arm.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

Bran’s wolf had saved the boy’s life, he thought dully. What was it that Jon had said when they found the pups in the snow? Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he had killed Sansa’s, and for what? Was it guilt he was feeling? Or fear? If the gods had sent these wolves, what folly had he done?

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard IV

She showed Brienne her palms, her fingers. “These scars … they sent a man to cut Bran’s throat as he lay sleeping. He would have died then, and me with him, but Bran’s wolf tore out the man’s throat.” That gave her a moment’s pause. “I suppose Theon killed the wolves too. He must have, elsewise … I was certain the boys would be safe so long as the direwolves were with them. Like Robb with his Grey Wind. But my daughters have no wolves now.”

—A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

“Any man Grey Wind mislikes is a man I do not want close to you. These wolves are more than wolves, Robb. You must know that. I think perhaps the gods sent them to us. Your father’s gods, the old gods of the north.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn II

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

"The king is gone hunting, but I know he will be pleased to see you when he returns," the queen was saying to the two knights who knelt before her, but Sansa could not take her eyes off the third man. He seemed to feel the weight of her gaze. Slowly he turned his head. Lady growled. A terror as overwhelming as anything Sansa Stark had ever felt filled her suddenly. She stepped backward and bumped into someone.

[…] He did, and had since she had first laid eyes on the ruin that fire had made of his face, though it seemed to her now that he was not half so terrifying as the other. Still, Sansa wrenched away from him, and the Hound laughed, and Lady moved between them, rumbling a warning. Sansa dropped to her knees to wrap her arms around the wolf.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

Sansa found herself thinking of Lady again. She could smell out falsehood, she could, but she was dead, Father had killed her, on account of Arya.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

The direwolves share the eye colors of the Children of the Forest:

“In a sense. Those you call the children of the forest have eyes as golden as the sun (Grey Wind, Lady, Nymeria and Summer), but once in a great while one is born amongst them with eyes as red as blood (Ghost), or green as the moss on a tree in the heart of the forest (Shaggydog). By these signs do the gods mark those they have chosen to receive the gift. The chosen ones are not robust, and their quick years upon the earth are few, for every song must have its balance. But once inside the wood they linger long indeed. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. Greenseers.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Bran III

Read more about the direwolves’s eye colors here.

The direwolves are not only protectors and guides for the Stark children, they are also one with them, since every Stark child is a warg:

And there’s the heart of it, Catelyn thought. “He is part of you, Robb. To fear him is to fear you.”

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn II

Ghost was closer than a friend. Ghost was part of him.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon III

"Bran the boy and Summer the wolf. You are two, then?" "Two," he sighed, "and one."

—A Storm of Swords - Bran I

“Lady,” he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansa had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

With Lady’s death, Sansa not only lost a protector and guide, and the possibility to develop her warging abilities, Sansa lost a part of herself.

But what is the meaning of Lady’s death? For the story and especially for Sansa’s arc?

As a plot device, Lady’s death directly meant a breach in Sansa’s relationship with her father and sister. As foreshadowing, Lady’s death presaged Ned’s own death. Furthermore, the sacrifice of the direwolf’s life was also necessary for Bran to wake up from the coma (only death can pay for life).

But in a more profound and personal level, Lady’s death intertwined Sansa’s story with Lyanna’s and Jon’s story, and it also deeply connected Sansa with Winterfell by foreshadowing that she will be the Stark in Winterfell at the end of the story. Let’s see.

Sansa lost Lady as a result of several factors:

Prince Joffrey Baratheon being his usual psychopathic self, hurting Mycah and threatening Arya.

Arya Stark striking a royal (*).

Queen Cersei Lannister’s vengeance. Nymeria, defending Arya, bit Joffrey’s arm; but since Nymeria ran away, Cersei demanded for Sansa’s direwolf’s life.

King Robert Baratheon’s allowance of Cersei’s vengeance as a way to apease his wife’s wrath.

Eddard Stark’s lack of reaction against the unfairness of Robert’s decision.

Joffrey’s true nature was known by Robert, and the King also knew of Cersei’s bad influence on his heir. Even so, Robert didn’t do anything to try and rectify that situation before or after the Trident incident:

"I am sorry for your girl, Ned. Truly. About the wolf, I mean. My son was lying, I'd stake my soul on it. My son … you love your children, don't you?"

"With all my heart," Ned said.

"Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that's what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?"

"He's only a boy," Ned said awkwardly. He had small liking for Prince Joffrey, but he could hear the pain in Robert's voice. "Have you forgotten how wild you were at his age?"

"It would not trouble me if the boy was wild, Ned. You don't know him as I do."

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard VII

(*) Arya’s actions, despite being a crime, were made to defend Mycah. Arya Stark, a child of 9 years old, defied an unjust rule in order to protect and save an innocent boy, something that not even the honorable Lord Stark was capable of doing in order to save Sansa’s direwolf.

So, Sansa was put in a very difficult situation, she was left to chose between her royal betrothed, the Crown Prince, and her sister and family. Take note that Sansa told the truth to her father, but at the prospect of defying a royal and her future husband or admit that her sister committed a crime punished by maiming or death, she opted for not agreeing with any of the parties, she said: “I don’t know, I don’t remember”.

So, let’s talk about adults actions here, because whatever Sansa might have said, either agreeing with her betrothed Prince Joffrey’s version or agreeing with her sister Arya’s version, it wasn't going to change Lady's fate.

Even before Arya was found, Queen Cersei Lannister, wanted her maimed or dead. And Jaime Lannister was very willing to do it:

"Do you see that window, ser?" Jaime used a sword to point. "That was Raymun Darry's bedchamber. Where King Robert slept, on our return from Winterfell. Ned Stark's daughter had run off after her wolf savaged Joff, you'll recall. My sister wanted the girl to lose a hand. The old penalty, for striking one of the blood royal. Robert told her she was cruel and mad. They fought for half the night . . . well, Cersei fought, and Robert drank. Past midnight, the queen summoned me inside. The king was passed out snoring on the Myrish carpet. I asked my sister if she wanted me to carry him to bed. She told me I should carry her to bed, and shrugged out of her robe. I took her on Raymun Darry's bed after stepping over Robert. If His Grace had woken I would have killed him there and then. He would not have been the first king to die upon my sword . . . but you know that story, don't you?" He slashed at a tree branch, shearing it in half. "As I was fucking her, Cersei cried, 'I want.' I thought that she meant me, but it was the Stark girl that she wanted, maimed or dead." The things I do for love. "It was only by chance that Stark's own men found the girl before me. If I had come on her first . . ."

—A Feast for Crows - Jaime IV

King Robert Baratheon was done with Cersei’s wrath about the incident, and even knowing Joffrey’s true nature, he let Cersei kill a direwolf, because at least it didn’t involve maiming or killing Arya Stark, a member of a great noble and allied house, and the daughter of his best friend.

So, since Arya was exonerated of the penalty for striking a royal, and Nymeria ran away, Cersei took away the least she could get, the life of Mycah, the butcher’s boy, and Lady, the direwolf that wasn’t even there.

Now, about Ned Stark, he could have done a lot more. I can understand that he was astonished by his best friend Robert Baratheon not being the just man that he used to be in his youth, even after Catelyn had warned about it. I can also understand that he was triggered by his memories of Lyanna begging him to protect Jon’s life from Robert’s wrath in the past. But still, he could have done a lot more to stop Lady’s sacrifice. Jory did more by helping Arya to protect Nymeria.

In the end, after some attempt to beg for Robert’s change of mind or mercy, Ned Stark complied with an unfair rule, and following a flawed sense of honor and duty, he killed Lady. He killed an innocent. He was part of Sansa’s punishment for a crime she didn’t commit. He left his own daughter unprotected, depriving her of a gift sent by the old gods.

Ned’s inaction are a contrast to Arya’s actions that impulsively defied Joffrey’s status as a royal member in order to protect an innocent. Arya’s actions emulated Dunk’s actions striking Prince Aerion Targaryen in order to defend Tanselle, the puppeteer girl. A true knight.

And this is not the first time that Ned’s actions were called out by one of his children (the heroes of the story), this happened before with Bran questioning this flawed sense of honor and duty after witnessing Gared’s execution.

There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

Two of the responsibles for Lady’s death, Robert and Ned, were deeply associated with Lyanna Stark. GRRM has also used Robert and Ned to connect Lyanna with Sansa:

"Come south with me, and I'll teach you how to laugh again," the king promised. "You helped me win this damnable throne, now help me hold it. We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done."

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

Before Lady’s death, Ned pleaded to Robert to change his decision on putting down the direwolf, appealing to the memory of Lyanna, the woman Robert loved:

All Ned could do was take her in his arms and hold her while she wept. He looked across the room at Robert. His old friend, closer than any brother. “Please, Robert. For the love you bear me. For the love you bore my sister. Please.”

— A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

Sansa’s pleading for Lady’s life and repeating the word “promise”, triggered Ned’s trauma over Lyanna’s death, who dies while pleading to Ned to protect her newborn son Jon:

"Stop them,” Sansa pleaded, “don’t let them do it, please, please, it wasn’t Lady, it was Nymeria, Arya did it, you can’t, it wasn’t Lady, don’t let them hurt Lady, I’ll make her be good, I promise, I promise …” She started to cry.

—AGOT - Eddard III

He could still hear Sansa pleading, as Lyanna had pleaded once.

—AGOT - Eddard IV

“Promise me, Ned,” Lyanna’s statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood.

—AGOT - Eddard XIII

Promise me, Ned, his sister had whispered from her bed of blood. She had loved the scent of winter roses.

—AGOT - Eddard XV

Ned carried Lyanna’s bones from Dorne to the north, to be buried in the crypts of Winterfell, the same way he ordered his men to carry Lady’s bones from Darry to the north, to be buried in the lichyard of Winterfell. Lyanna’s and Lady’s bones being buried at Winterfell, makes them literally Ladies of Winterfell:

“She was more beautiful than that,” the king said after a silence. His eyes lingered on Lyanna’s face, as if he could will her back to life. Finally he rose, made awkward by his weight. “Ah, damn it, Ned, did you have to bury her in a place like this?” His voice was hoarse with remembered grief. “She deserved more than darkness …”

“She was a Stark of Winterfell,” Ned said quietly. “This is her place.”

— A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

They were all staring at him, but it was Sansa’s look that cut. “She is of the north. She deserves better than a butcher.” […] Shortly, Jory brought him Ice. When it was over, he said, “Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfell.” “All that way?” Jory said, astonished. “All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.”

— A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

Bran felt all cold inside. “She lost her wolf,” he said, weakly, remembering the day when four of his father’s guardsmen had returned from the south with Lady’s bones. Summer and Grey Wind and Shaggydog had begun to howl before they crossed the drawbridge, in voices drawn and desolate. Beneath the shadow of the First Keep was an ancient lichyard, its headstones spotted with pale lichen, where the old Kings of Winter had laid their faithful servants. It was there they buried Lady, while her brothers stalked between the graves like restless shadows. She had gone south, and only her bones had returned.

— A Game of Thrones - Bran VI

I like that Ned unofficially name Sansa, “Lady of the North” (Lady of Winterfell), when he said: She (Lady) is of the North.

The fact that Lady’s bones have already returned to Winterfell, makes Sansa the first Stark children that returned home. Also, at this point of the story, Lady being buried in Winterfell, makes Sansa the Stark in Winterfell.

In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm.

The day of the Trident incident that later would determine Lady’s fate, Sansa, inadvertently, sensed Ned’s death at the hands of Ilyn Payne the first time she met the King’s Justice, that’s why she felt such a terror that made her step backward and bump into the Hound, and for a moment she thought he was her father.

Another passage that foreshadows Ned’s death, that is also related to killing a magical creature like Lady, is Sansa’s wish for Joffrey to capture the white hart:

“I had a dream that Joffrey would be the one to take the white hart,” she said. It had been more of a wish, actually, but it sounded better to call it a dream. Everyone knew that dreams were prophetic. White harts were supposed to be very rare and magical, and in her heart she knew her gallant prince was worthier than his drunken father. “A dream? Truly? Did Prince Joffrey just go up to it and touch it with his bare hand and do it no harm?” “No,” Sansa said. “He shot it with a golden arrow and brought it back for me.” In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm, but she knew Joffrey liked hunting, especially the killing part. Only animals, though. Sansa was certain her prince had no part in murdering Jory and those other poor men; that had been his wicked uncle, the Kingslayer. She knew her father was still angry about that, but it wasn’t fair to blame Joff. That would be like blaming her for something that Arya had done.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

In the end Joffrey showed Sansa that he not only enjoyed killing animals, but he also enjoyed killing men. It was not the white hart what Joffrey brought back for her, it was her father’s severed head.

Read more about the white hart here.

But the paragraphs that are more laden with symbolism and foreshadowing for Ned’s death are the ones leading to Lady’s execution.

After Lady’s death, Ned lost Sansa’s trust. Sansa was left deeply wounded, she resented her sister because Lady paid for Nymeria’s fault, and she resented Ned, because he did close to nothing to save Lady’s life and was the executioner himself. That’s why, when Ned told her that she is returning to Winterfell without a proper explanation, she felt that Ned is taking away beloved things from her once again, as he did with Lady. That prompted Sansa to defy her father’s orders and tell Cersei about Ned’s plans:

"I didn't do anything wrong," Sansa pleaded with him. "I don't want to go back." She loved King's Landing; the pagaentry of the court, the high lords and ladies in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with all its people. The tournament had been the most magical time of her whole life, and there was so much she had not seen yet, harvest feasts and masked balls and mummer shows. She could not bear the thought of losing it all. "Send Arya away, she started it, Father, I swear it. I'll be good, you'll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen." […] Sansa cried as Septa Mordane marched them down the steps. They were going to take it all away; the tournaments and the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

"It was for love," Sansa said in a rush. "Father wouldn't even give me leave to say farewell." She was the good girl, the obedient girl, but she had felt as wicked as Arya that morning, sneaking away from Septa Mordane, defying her lord father. She had never done anything so willful before, and she would never have done it then if she hadn't loved Joffrey as much as she did. "He was going to take me back to Winterfell and marry me to some hedge knight, even though it was Joff I wanted. I told him, but he wouldn't listen." The king had been her last hope. The king could command Father to let her stay in King's Landing and marry Prince Joffrey, Sansa knew he could, but the king had always frightened her. He was loud and rough-voiced and drunk as often as not, and he would probably have just sent her back to Lord Eddard, if they even let her see him. So she went to the queen instead, and poured out her heart, and Cersei had listened and thanked her sweetly … only then Ser Arys had escorted her to the high room in Maegor's Holdfast and posted guards, and a few hours later, the fighting had begun outside. "Please," she finished, "you have to let me marry Joffrey, I'll be ever so good a wife to him, you'll see. I'll be a queen just like you, I promise."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

By deciding to kill Lady himself, Ned killed a part of Sansa, his own daughter, so he not only killed a magical beast (In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm), but this could also be considered kinslaying, both crimes forbidden and punished by the gods, the old and the new.

By defying Ned’s orders and telling Cersei her father’s plans, in order to stay in King’s Landing and marry Joffrey, Sansa unwillingly took part of the events that ended up with Ned’s execution.

During the “trial”, Ned pleaded King Robert to change his decision on putting down the direwolf, appealing to the memory of Lyanna, the woman Robert loved. Then Ned decided that he will take Lady’s life himself using his sword Ice, in order to avoid having a butcher like Ilyn Payne do the execution. Before he struck, he pronounced Lady’s name in the same fashion Robb and Jon called the name of their direwolves before they both died.

Similarly, before Ned’s execution at the steps of the Sept of Baelor, Sansa pleaded to King Joffrey to spare her father’s life, appealing to the love he has for her.

But, as we all know, both pleas fell on deaf ears and both Lady and Ned lost their lives; bringing the story full circle, as Ilyn Payne himself cut off Ned’s head with Ice.

North and north and north again, stood Winterfell.

If Lady’s death wasn’t enough to open Sansa’s eyes and see the true nature of Cersei and Joffrey, Ned’s death certainly was:

"I don’t want to marry you,” Sansa wailed. “You chopped off my father’s head!” “He was a traitor. I never promised to spare him, only that I’d be merciful, and I was. If he hadn’t been your father, I would have had him torn or flayed, but I gave him a clean death.” Sansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. “I hate you,” she whispered.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father’s head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

When Joffrey took her to the battlements to force her to see her father’s severed head on a pike, Sansa chose to focus on looking north, longing to return home:

And to the north … She turned that way, and saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell. "What are you looking at?" Joffrey said. "This is what I wanted you to see, right here."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

Sadly, Ned’s death was the catalyst for Sansa to finally open her eyes to reality, but that event also awakened her inner ‘Starkness’, because if any of the Stark children is the epitome of endurance, that is Sansa.

So, after Ned’s death, we see Sansa always finding her strength and courage in the memories of Winterfell and her family, yearning to go back north, to home, to Winterfell:

The hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. She had not washed since the day her father died, and she was startled at how filthy the water became.

— A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

“Do as you’re told, sweetling, it won’t be so bad. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren’t they? “Brave. Sansa took a deep breath. I am a Stark, yes, I can be brave.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so … She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now. […] Sansa was tempted to beg off. I could tell him that my tummy was upset, or that my moon’s blood had come. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and pull the drapes. I must be brave, like Robb, she told herself, as she took her lord husband stiffly by the arm.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they’d raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” “As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.” She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell. […] I am a Stark of Winterfell, she longed to tell him. Instead she nodded, and let him escort her down the tower steps and along a bridge. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard's daughter and Lady Catelyn's, the blood of Winterfell. She did not say it, though.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

They made a race of it, dashing headlong across the yard and past the stables, skirts flapping, whilst knights and serving men alike looked on, and pigs and chickens scattered before them. It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

No matter how many time she has to say she loves her enemies, no matter how many times they put another house’s cloak on her shoulders, no matter how many times she has to pretend be another person, no matter how many times she has to lie, deep down she is always Sansa Stark:

"My father was a traitor," Sansa said at once. "And my brother and lady mother are traitors as well." That reflex she had learned quickly. "I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey." "No doubt. As loyal as a deer surrounded by wolves." "Lions," she whispered, without thinking. She glanced about nervously, but there was no one close enough to hear.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

"Robb's a traitor." Sansa knew the words by rote. "I had no part in whatever he did." […] Robb will kill you all, she thought, exulting. “It’s…terrible, my lord. My brother is a vile traitor.” […] "Well, Robb Stark is my father's bane. Joffrey is mine. Tell me, what do you feel for my kingly nephew?" "I love him with all my heart," Sansa said at once. “Truly?” He did not sound convinced. “Even now?” “My love for His Grace is greater than it has ever been.” […] "They tell me you visit the godswood every day. What do you pray for, Sansa?" I pray for Robb's victory and Joffrey's death . . . and for home. For Winterfell. "I pray for an end to the fighting." […] Robb will beat him, Sansa thought. He beat your uncle and your brother Jaime, he’ll beat your father too.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

You may never love the king, but you'll love his children." "I love His Grace with all my heart," Sansa said.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

"I never meant . . . my father was a traitor, my brother as well, I have the traitor's blood, please, don't make me say more."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly. […] "You loved your brothers, much as I love Jaime." Is this some Lannister trap to make me speak treason? "My brothers were traitors, and they've gone to traitors' graves. It is treason to love a traitor."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

"So, who are you?" "Alayne . . . Stone, would it be?"

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

I am a Stark of Winterfell, she longed to tell him. Instead she nodded, and let him escort her down the tower steps and along a bridge.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter and Lady Catelyn’s, the blood of Winterfell. She did not say it, though.

[…] “You are Alayne, and you must be Alayne all the time.” He put two fingers on her left breast. "Even here. In your heart. Can you do that? Can you be my daughter in your heart?" "I . . ." I do not know, my lord, she almost said, but that was not what he wanted to hear. Lies and Arbor gold, she thought. "I am Alayne, Father. Who else would I be?"

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

As you can see, Sansa never loses her identity as a Stark of Winterfell. She is forced to lie and pretend, to hide and disguise, to play with false identities and loyalties, but deep within she was always a Stark, Sansa Stark of Winterfell.

That’s why her journey back home is so important for her story, is the way to claim back her true name and identity, her agency and heritage, her home and heart.

The man who weds Sansa Stark can claim Winterfell in her name.

The south stripped Sansa of her wolf and her father, of her name and her identity, and later constantly tried to strip her of her claim to the north and Winterfell.

After the Lannisters killed Robb without an heir (childless), with Bran and Rickon presumed dead, and Arya lost and also presumed dead, Sansa, aged 12/13, became the Heir to Witerfell and by far the most eligible single young heiress in Westeros. Then Sansa suffered constant objectification, by every character she interacted with. She was practically transformed into a stone castle, Winterfell, and the north itself, since the one that controlled her would obtain all her lands and power. Or, to use the euphemism from the Books, Sansa Stark was the “key to the north.”

Alone in the capital, she was spurned by King Joffrey Baratheon and became a ward hostage of the crown. The kingdom was at war and the grasping people around Sansa pretended to make her a Baelish and a Tyrell, but at the end they made her a Lannister. After that they made her a bastard and then they tried to make her an Arryn, twice. But these ambitious houses and men only wanted her for her claim. She was a means to get Winterfell and the north.

Sansa Stark was thrust into the world of medieval politics in her early teens and played a vital role in these power struggles. Despite the many discussions about the legitimacy of her claim to the North and the secret will of Robb Stark, Sansa is considered the heir of the ancestral lands and domains of House Stark, she is called ‘the key to the north’ by Tywin Lannister, the man behind his royal grandsons, King Joffrey and King Tommen Baratheon. The North is the largest region of Westeros, and Sansa Stark’s claim to Winterfell and the Wardenship of the North is coveted by many lords in order to gain political power and influence.

Most of these suitors were representatives from the ex seven independent kingdoms of Westeros, with the only absentees being from the Kingdom of the North (the bride’s homeland) and the Principality of Dorne. It was like a quest for the conquest of the north, the largest region of Westeros.

1. Joffrey Baratheon, Crown Prince and then King of Westeros (representative from the old Kingdom of the Storm).

Sansa’s first betrothed, a match arranged by Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon. When King Robert proposed Joffrey and Sansa’s betrothal, he was trying to reenact his own betrothal to Lyanna Stark, that was part of the so called Southron Ambitions Theory.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

After Ned died as a traitor and House Stark declared Northern Independance, Joffrey broke the betrothal and married Margaery Tyrell.

2. Willas Tyrell, Heir to Highgarden (representative from the old Kingdom of the Reach).

Sansa’s second betrothed, a match planned by Olenna Tyrell who secretly arranged this betrothal in order to expand their power over another great region of Westeros.

“I will be safe in Highgarden. Willas will keep me safe.” “But he does not know you,” Dontos insisted, “and he will not love you. Jonquil, Jonquil, open your sweet eyes, these Tyrells care nothing for you. It’s your claim they mean to wed.” "My claim?" She was lost for a moment. "Sweetling," he told her, "you are heir to Winterfell." He grabbed her again, pleading that she must not do this thing, and Sansa wrenched free and left him swaying beneath the heart tree. She had not visited the godswood since. But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

The Lannisters discovered this secret betrothal (thanks to Dontos and Littlefinger) and Sansa ended up married to Tyrion and Cersei betrothed to Willas.

"Yes. You are a ward of the crown. The king stands in your father's place, since your brother is an attainted traitor. That means he has every right to dispose of your hand. You are to marry my brother Tyrion." My claim, she thought, sickened. Dontos the Fool was not so foolish after all; he had seen the truth of it. Sansa backed away from the queen. "I won't." I'm to marry Willas, I'm to be the lady of Highgarden, please . . . […] If I had refused you, however, they would have wed you to my cousin Lancel. Perhaps you would prefer that. He is nearer your age, and fairer to look upon. If that is your wish, say so, and I will end this farce." I don't want any Lannister, she wanted to say. I want Willas, I want Highgarden and the puppies and the barge, and sons named Eddard and Bran and Rickon. But then she remembered what Dontos had told her in the godswood. Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it's not me they want, only my claim. "You are kind, my lord," she said, defeated. "I am a ward of the throne and my duty is to marry as the king commands."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

3. Tyrion Lannister, Heir presumptive to Casterly Rock (representatives from the old Kingdom of the Rock).

Sansa Stark’s husband, a match arranged by Tywin Lannister without Sansa’s free consent. He married Sansa following his father’s orders in order to take control over the north.

“I will not have the rose and the direwolf in bed together,” declared Lord Tywin. “We must forestall him.” […] "The girl's happiness is not my purpose, nor should it be yours. Our alliances in the south may be as solid as Casterly Rock, but there remains the north to win, and the key to the north is Sansa Stark." "She is no more than a child." “Your sister swears she’s flowered. If so, she is a woman, fit to be wed. You must needs take her maidenhead, so no man can say the marriage was not consummated. After that, if you prefer to wait a year or two before bedding her again, you would be within your rights as her husband.” […] “She must marry a Lannister, and soon.” “The man who weds Sansa Stark can claim Winterfell in her name,” his uncle Kevan put in. “Had that not occurred to you?” “If you will not have the girl, we shall give her to one of your cousins,” said his father.” […] The key to the north, you say? The Greyjoys hold the north now, and King Balon has a daughter. Why Sansa Stark, and not her?" […] Come spring, the northmen will have had a bellyful of krakens. When you bring Eddard Stark's grandson home to claim his birthright, lords and little folk alike will rise as one to place him on the high seat of his ancestors. You are capable of getting a woman with child, I hope?" […] “You shall never have Casterly Rock, I promise you. But wed Sansa Stark, and it is just possible that you might win Winterfell.” Tyrion Lannister, Lord Protector of Winterfell. The prospect gave him a queer chill. “Very good, Father.”

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III

They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

The marriage was never consummated and after Joffrey’s death Sansa ran away from King’s Landing. Tyrion was accused of murdering Joffrey and condemned to die, but he escaped King’s Landing before his execution. Littlefinger is waiting for news of Tyrion’s death for Sansa to become a widow and then marry her with Harrold Hardyng; if not, she would need and annulment by the High Septon.

4. Robert Arryn and Harrold Hardyng, Heir and second in the line, respectively, to the Vale of Arryn (representatives from the old Kingdom of the Mountain and Vale).

4.1. Robert Arryn, Heir to the Vale of Arryn.

The match with Sweetrobin was proposed by Lysa Arryn, the mother of the little bridegroom. Lysa tried to manipulate Sansa to marry little Robert, calling her a beggar, and warned her to put aside her pride and be a submissive wife for her sickly son:

"I . . . I am married, my lady." "Yes, but soon a widow. Be glad the Imp preferred his whores. It would not be fitting for my son to take that dwarf's leavings, but as he never touched you... How would you like to marry your cousin, the Lord Robert?” The thought made Sansa weary. All she knew of Robert Arryn was that he was a little boy, and sickly. It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. But lying came easy to her now. “I … can scarcely wait to meet him, my lady. But he is still a child, is he not?” "He is eight. And not robust. But such a good boy, so bright and clever. He will be a great man, Alayne. The seed is strong, my lord husband said before he died. His last words. The gods sometimes let us glimpse the future as we lay dying. I see no reason why you should not be wed as soon as we know that your Lannister husband is dead. A secret wedding, to be sure. The Lord of the Eyrie could scarcely be thought to have married a bastard, that would not be fitting. The ravens should bring us the word from King's Landing once the Imp's head rolls. You and Robert can be wed the next day, won't that be joyous? (…) Do you read well, Alayne?"

"Septa Mordane was good enough to say so." "Robert has weak eyes, but he loves to be read to," Lady Lysa confided. "He likes stories about animals the best. Do you know the little song about the chicken who dressed as a fox? I sing him that all the time, he never grows tired of it. And he likes to play hopfrog and spin-the-sword and come-into-my-castle, but you must always let him win. That's only proper, don't you think? He is the Lord of the Eyrie, after all, you must never forget that. You are well born, and the Starks of Winterfell were always proud, but Winterfell has fallen and you are really just a beggar now, so put that pride aside. Gratitude will better become you, in your present circumstances. Yes, and obedience. My son will have a grateful and obedient wife."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

"I don't want to be leeched!" "My lord, your blood needs thinning," said Maester Colemon. "It is the bad blood that makes you angry, and the rage that brings on the shaking. Come now."

They led the boy away. My lord husband, Sansa thought, as she contemplated the ruins of Winterfell. The snow had stopped, and it was colder than before. She wondered if Lord Robert would shake all through their wedding. At least Joffrey was sound of body. […] “I will tell my aunt that I don’t want to marry Robert. Not even the High Septon himself could declare a woman married if she refused to say the vows. She wasn’t a beggar, no matter what her aunt said. She was thirteen, a woman flowered and wed, the heir to Winterfell. Sansa felt sorry for her little cousin sometimes, but she could not imagine ever wanting to be his wife. I would sooner be married to Tyrion again.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

But Littlefinger had other plans…

4.2. Harrold Hardyng, second in line to the Vale of Arryn.

Harry is betrothed to Alayne Stone, a match arranged by Petyr Baelish and Anya Waynwood. When Petyr Baelish proposed Harry and Alayne/Sansa betrothal, he was trying to gain more political power to further his own agenda.

Her eyes widened. "He is not Lady Waynwood's heir. He's Robert's heir. If Robert were to die . . ." Petyr arched an eyebrow. "When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?"

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Harry, though... My Harry. My lord, my lover, my betrothed. Ser Harrold Hardyng looked every inch a lord-in-waiting; clean-limbed and handsome, straight as a lance, hard with muscle. Men old enough to have known Jon Arryn in his youth said Ser Harrold had his look, she knew. He had a mop of sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, an aquiline nose. Joffrey was comely too, though, she reminded herself. A comely monster, that's what he was. Little Lord Tyrion was kinder, twisted though he was. […] This time her eyes met Harry's. She smiled just for him, and said a silent prayer to the Maiden. Please, he doesn't need to love me, just make him like me, just a little, that would be enough for now. Ser Harrold looked down at her coldly. "Why should it please me to be escorted anywhere by Littlefinger's bastard?"

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

5. Theon Greyjoy, heir presumptive of the Iron Islands (representative from the old Kingdom of the Isles and the Rivers).

There was never a betrothal between Theon Greyjoy and any daughter of House Stark. But Theon’s case was particular, because he got to invade and control Winterfell, but he never got a Stark bride.

The maester inclined his head. "I make no apologies for oathbreakers. Do what you must. I thank you for your mercy." Mercy, thought Theon as Luwin dropped back. There's a bloody trap. Too much and they call you weak, too little and you're monstrous. Yet the maester had given him good counsel, he knew. His father thought only in terms of conquest, but what good was it to take a kingdom if you could not hold it? Force and fear could carry you only so far. A pity Ned Stark had taken his daughters south; elsewise Theon could have tightened his grip on Winterfell by marrying one of them. Sansa was a pretty little thing too, and by now likely even ripe for bedding. But she was a thousand leagues away, in the clutches of the Lannisters. A shame.

—A Clash of Kings - Theon IV

Later, as Reek, Theon witnesses how the Lannisters and the Boltons use Jeyne Poole, disguised as Arya Stark, to tighten their grip on Winterfell, marrying Jeyne with Ramsay Bolton, the same way Theon wanted to use Sansa when he usurped Winterfell.

Lord Ramsay filled his cup with ale. "That would spoil our celebration, my lord. Reek, I have glad tidings for you. I am to be wed. My lord father is bringing me a Stark girl. Lord Eddard's daughter, Arya. You remember little Arya, don't you?" Arya Underfoot, he almost said. Arya Horseface. Robb's younger sister, brown-haired, long-faced, skinny as a stick, always dirty. Sansa was the pretty one. He remembered a time when he had thought that Lord Eddard Stark might marry him to Sansa and claim him for a son, but that had only been a child's fancy. Arya, though … "I remember her. Arya." "She shall be the Lady of Winterfell, and me her lord."

—A Dance with Dragons - Reek I

Sansa ignores Theon’s past pretensions to be her husband, and the only time she thought about her father’s ward, she called him Bran’s killer.

6. Petyr Baelish, Lord of the Fingers and Harrenhal, Lord Paramount of the Trident and Lord Protector of the Eyrie and the Vale of Arryn.

After Ned’s death, Petyr Baelish proposed himself to marry Sansa Stark. His proposal was rejected by the Crown, because he was too lowborn.

It came to her suddenly that she had stood in this very spot before, on the day Lord Eddard Stark had lost his head. That was not supposed to happen. Joff was supposed to spare his life and send him to the Wall. Stark's eldest son would have followed him as Lord of Winterfell, but Sansa would have stayed at court, a hostage. Varys and Littlefinger had worked out the terms, and Ned Stark had swallowed his precious honor and confessed his treason to save his daughter's empty little head. I would have made Sansa a good marriage. A Lannister marriage. Not Joff, of course, but Lancel might have suited, or one of his younger brothers. Petyr Baelish had offered to wed the girl himself, she recalled, but of course that was impossible; he was much too lowborn. If Joff had only done as he was told, Winterfell would never have gone to war, and Father would have dealt with Robert's brothers.

—A Dance with Dragons - Cersei II

Sansa ignores Littlefinger’s past pretensions to be her husband. Petyr Baelish publicly acts as Alayne’s father, but at the same time Littlefinger is grooming Sansa while they are alone.

As you can see, despite their intentions, Theon and Littlefinger were never betrothed to Sansa, neither secretly nor officially, and their pretensions were unknown to her. Sansa is only aware of five of these suitors: Joffrey Baratheon, Willas Tyrell, Tyrion Lannister, Robert Arryn and Harrold Hardyng. A Baratheon, a Tyrell, a Lannister and a Hardyng… Where did I read about all these last names before??? Oh yes! That’s from The Hedge Knight and the Tourney of Ashford Meadow.

The Hedge Knight novella was built around the Tourney at Ashford Meadow. Lord Ashford staged the tourney to celebrate his daughter's thirteenth name day. His daughter was the queen of love and beauty and would have five champions to defend her honor. All other entrants were the challengers, and if anyone defeated a champion, they would take their place as the new champion. After three days of jousting, the champions would determine if Lord Ashford's daughter retained her title or if another would wear it. But we only know who were the last five champions after the first day of jousting.

The last names of four out of five of these five champions, match with the last names of the men betrothed or already married to Sansa Stark:

This could be a mere coincidence, as many had claimed, because after all, there wasn’t an Arryn champion in the Tourney at Ashford Meadow, they say. But I disagree.

As I explained before, GRRM has projected his love for medieval tourneys, heraldry, pageantry, knights and chivalry on Sansa Stark. So George writing a tourney in honor of a thirteen year old maiden, the same age of Sansa, can’t be a mere coincidence.

Five final champions deciding if the thirteen year old maiden retained her Queen of Love and Beauty title or if another would wear it, as a simil of the greatest houses of Westeros deciding who would take away Sansa’s claim, can’t be a mere coincidence.

The fact that Ser Tybolt Lannister and Ser Lyonel Baratheon defeated Lady Ashord’s brothers, Androw and Robert, during the jousting, the same way the Lannisters and Baratheons killed Sansa’s family and then married her with the suitor of their choice, can’t be a mere coincidence.

The fact that there is a Hardyng, instead of an Arryn, among the champions of the tourney, that illustrates the conflict in the succession to the Vale of Arryn, with Harry Hardyng waiting for Sweetrobing to die, to become Lord of the Vale, can’t be a mere coincidence. If you don’t believe me, ask Littlefinger why he replaced Sweetrobin with Harry as Alayne/Sansa betrothed?

The fact that Ser Humfrey Hardyng won a previous great melee at Maidenpool, where he “overthrew Ser Donnel of Duskendale and the Lords Arryn and Royce in the lists,” can’t be a mere coincidence. Ser Donnel of Duskendale and the Lords Arryn and Royce… Are these names unfamiliar to you? Because they remind me of Dontos Hollard, Robert Arryn and Waymar Royce. All of them romantically linked with Sansa. See? This can’t be a mere coincidence.

The Hedge Knight was originally published on August 25, 1998, in “Legends,” an anthology edited by Robert Silverberg. GRRM has said that he wrote this tale while he “was still in the middle of writing Clash of Kings.” A Clash of Kings was published on November 16, 1998. The deadline to send the works to Robert Silverberg was December 31, 1997, and GRRM surprisingly sent the tale on the deadline.

Willas Tyrell appears for the first time in A Storm of Swords (Sansa I), published on August 8, 2000. And Harrold Hardyng appears for the first time in A Feast for Crows (Alayne I), published on October 17, 2005. So I think there is no coincidence here, GRRM has planned the list of Sansa’s main suitors since he “was still in the middle of writing Clash of Kings,” back in 1997.

This repetition of the pattern in these two lists of men (Ashford champions & Sansa’s suitors), accentuates the importance of Sansa and her claim in the political scene of Westeros. After all, all of Sansa’s betrothals were arranged to gain political power through her claim to the north, which is the largest region of Westeros.

Will there be a Targaryen suitor for Sansa? There is a lot to say about it, but the Tourney at Ashford Meadow deserves its own post, one that will be finished soon, with the blessing of the old gods and the new.

Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.

(Art credit: Jon Snow and Ghost by Lauren K. Cannon)

In the south, every great house of Westeros were fighting to get Sansa’s hand in marriage in order to take Winterfell and the north under their control.

Sansa reflects about this objectification in the Books and gives us one of the saddest lines in ASOIAF, especially coming from a girl who yearns to be loved and always dreamed of getting married: “No one will ever marry me for love,” (because everyone only wants her for her claim to Winterfell and the north).

Meanwhile at the Wall…

Jon Snow was offered legitimation, Winterfell’s Lordship and a wildling bride (Val) by King Stannis Baretheon, in order to gain the northern lords and the wildlings support to his claim to the Iron Throne:

Your northmen do not know me, have no reason to love me, yet I will need their strength in the battles yet to come. I need a son of Eddard Stark to win them to my banner."

He would make me Lord of Winterfell.

[…] When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe." He looked at Jon. "Would you agree?"

[…] "I agree."

"Good," King Stannis said, "for the surest way to seal a new alliance is with a marriage. I mean to wed my Lord of Winterfell to this wildling princess."

[…] "Does this mean you will not wed the girl? I warn you, she is part of the price you must pay, if you want your father's name and your father's castle. This match is necessary, to help assure the loyalty of our new subjects. Are you refusing me, Jon Snow?"

"No," Jon said, too quickly. It was Winterfell the king was speaking of, and Winterfell was not to be lightly refused. "I mean . . . this has all come very suddenly, Your Grace. Might I beg you for some time to consider?"

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XI

And Jon Snow rejected it all!

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

Yes, once again, Jon’s answer was Sansa. Winterfell belongs to Sansa. He could have said ‘Winterfell belongs to my sisters Sansa and Arya’ or ‘Winterfell belongs to my trueborn sisters’ or ‘Winterfell belongs to the Starks.’ But no. He said, more than once, that Winterfell belongs to Sansa.

Unlike Tyrion, Willas, Theon, Littlefinger or even little Robert, who pursued Sansa’s claim over her, there was a man who was offered Winterfell and chose Sansa over her claim: “By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.” – “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.” Among all the high lords interested in becoming the Lord of Winterfell by marrying Sansa Stark, the bastard Jon Snow refused to despoil his sister Sansa of her rights, even if her claim is the one thing he has wanted as much as he had ever wanted anything.

It only remains for me to say that, if there is to be a Targaryen suitor for Sansa, I believe that man will be Jon Snow, not Aegon (Young Griff). Because, who else would be a better correspondence for Valarr Targaryen, “the black prince with the white guardian,” than Jon Snow, the black knight of the Wall with the white guardian Ghost? But this is a matter for another post.

And for the readers that support the argument that Dunk was the one that crashed the tourney and later won the Trial of Seven (hence Dunk was the winner at Ashford), let me tell you that Dunk and Jon Snow are more similar than you think. Another character linked with Dunk is of course Brienne of Tarth. Brienne has sworn her sword Oathkeeper (made of Ice) to find and protect Sansa Stark.

Now, let’s talk about Sansa and Godswoods.

IV.2. SANSA AND GODSWOODS

She's gone back north, she has. That's where her gods are.

As I said before, Sansa’s journey back home starts with a godswood, the moment she got the anonymous note with this message: "Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home."

Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home. The words were the same on the hundredth reading as they'd been on the first, when Sansa had discovered the folded sheet of parchment beneath her pillow. She did not know how it had gotten there or who had sent it. The note was unsigned, unsealed, and the hand unfamiliar. She crushed the parchment to her chest and whispered the words to herself. "Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home," she breathed, ever so faintly.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

But the godswoods in the south are not like the one at home:

In the south the last weirwoods had been cut down or burned out a thousand years ago, except on the Isle of Faces where the green men kept their silent watch. Up here it was different. Here every castle had its godswood, and every godswood had its heart tree, and every heart tree its face.

—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn I

After Sansa left Winterfell, she went south and got to live in two great castles that although they had a godswood, they didn’t have a weirwood tree. But no matter that, the godswood of the Red Keep in King’s Landing and the godswood of the Eyrie in The Vale were very important in Sansa’s arc. But there was another castle and another godswood…

Only trees bare and brooding, their black branches scratching at the sky.

Ned killed Lady at Darry. The castle had a godswood, but not a weirwood:

The castle yard was full of eyes and ears. To escape them, they sought out Darry's godswood. There were no sparrows there, only trees bare and brooding, their black branches scratching at the sky. A mat of dead leaves crunched beneath their feet.

—A Feast for Crows - Jaime IV

There is no other description of Darry’s godswood. Jaime would have noticed if there has been a weirwood there; instead he mentions the black branches of the trees, the opposite to the white bone branches of a weirwood.

During the “trial,” Sansa chose to keep quiet about the Trident incident, she didn’t support Joffrey’s nor Arya’s version, she just said “I don’t know” and “I don’t remember”. And while it wasn’t exactly a lie, many readers considered her silence a betrayal to House Stark and they think she was punished with Lady’s sacrifice for not telling the truth.

It was a very complicated situation for Sansa, and as I said before, Lady’s death was the result of the sum of several factors (several other character’s actions/inactions), but this absence of weirwoods in the south (In the south the last weirwoods had been cut down or burned out a thousand years ago), also serves to illustrate how the further Sansa goes south, the more she losses and the more lies she is forced to say.

Later, Arya was glad to know that Darry was going to be burned by northern men, remembering that it was there where Lady was killed:

Arya was glad to hear that the castle of the Darrys would be burned. That was where they'd brought her when she'd been caught after her fight with Joffrey, and where the queen had made her father kill Sansa's wolf. It deserves to burn.

—A Clash of Kings - Arya X

Arya’s reaction is very similar to Sansa’s wish for the Sept of Baelor to be burned by Stannis, since that was the place where Ned was killed:

Dontos nodded. "He made a great pyre of the trees as an offering to his new god. The red priestess made him do it. They say she rules him now, body and soul. He's vowed to burn the Great Sept of Baelor too, if he takes the city." "Let him." When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she'd thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. "I want it burned." "Hush, child, the gods will hear you."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

Perhaps the gods heard Sansa's wish, and it will come true... We'll see.

The heart tree there was a great oak, brown and faceless.

The Red Keep had a godswood, but not a weirwood. Ned and Sansa could still sense the presence of the old gods, nonetheless:

The godswood was empty, as it always was here in this citadel of the southron gods. Ned's leg was screaming as they lowered him to the grass beside the heart tree. "Thank you." He drew a paper from his sleeve, sealed with the sigil of his House. "Kindly deliver this at once." [...] How long he waited in the quiet of the godswood, he could not say. It was peaceful here. The thick walls shut out the clamor of the castle, and he could hear birds singing, the murmur of crickets, leaves rustling in a gentle wind. The heart tree was an oak, brown and faceless, yet Ned Stark still felt the presence of his gods. His leg did not seem to hurt so much.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

By the time she reached the godswood, the noises had faded to a faint rattle of steel and a distant shouting. Sansa pulled her cloak tighter. The air was rich with the smells of earth and leaf. Lady would have liked this place, she thought. There was something wild about a godswood; even here, in the heart of the castle at the heart of the city, you could feel the old gods watching with a thousand unseen eyes. Sansa had favored her mother's gods over her father's. She loved the statues, the pictures in leaded glass, the fragrance of burning incense, the septons with their robes and crystals, the magical play of the rainbows over altars inlaid with mother-of-pearl and onyx and lapis lazuli. Yet she could not deny that the godswood had a certain power too. Especially by night. Help me, she prayed, send me a friend, a true knight to champion me . . .

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

Ned took his daughters to pray in the Red Keep’s godswood after knowing that Bran woke up from the coma:

Arya bit her lip. "What will Bran do when he's of age?" Ned knelt beside her. "He has years to find that answer, Arya. For now, it is enough to know that he will live." The night the bird had come from Winterfell, Eddard Stark had taken the girls to the castle godswood, an acre of elm and alder and black cottonwood overlooking the river. The heart tree there was a great oak, its ancient limbs overgrown with smokeberry vines; they knelt before it to offer their thanksgiving, as if it had been a weirwood. Sansa drifted to sleep as the moon rose, Arya several hours later, curling up in the grass under Ned's cloak. All through the dark hours he kept his vigil alone. When dawn broke over the city, the dark red blooms of dragon's breath surrounded the girls where they lay. "I dreamed of Bran," Sansa had whispered to him. "I saw him smiling."

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard V

Sansa’s dream about Bran smiling is very telling, since Bran woke up from the coma precisely thanks to Lady’s sacrifice (only death can pay for life).

In this passage we can also appreciate the moon and sun imagery around the Stark sisters: Sansa drifted to sleep as the moon rose, Arya several hours later (Arya is the moon). When dawn broke over the city... "I dreamed of Bran," Sansa had whispered to him. "I saw him smiling." (Sansa is the dawn/sun).

Sweet lady, I would be your Florian.

Littlefinger not only used the godswood and the old gods to lure Sansa into his trap, he also used the songs. That’s why he sent Dontos Hollard, a defenestrated knight turned fool, a poor version of the legendary Florian, to help Sansa escape King’s Landing:

“I prayed to the gods for a knight to come save me,” she said. “I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?” […] “The singers say there was another fool once who was the greatest knight of all…” “Florian,” Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her. “Sweet lady, I would be your Florian,” Dontos said humbly, falling to his knees before her. […] “I vow, with your father’s gods as witness, that I shall send you home.” He swore. A solemn oath, before the gods. “Then…I will put myself in your hands, ser. But how will I know, when it is time to go? Will you send me another note?” Ser Dontos glanced about anxiously. “The risk is too great. You must come here, to the godswood. As often as you can. This is the safest place. The only safe place. Nowhere else.”

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

During their encounters in the godswood, Dontos and Sansa planned her escape from King’s Landing.

It was there where Sansa told Dontos about her betrothal with Willas Tyrell. That’s how the Lannisters discovered this secret betrothal (thanks to Dontos and Littlefinger) and Sansa ended up married to Tyrion and Cersei betrothed to Willas.

They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

And It was also there where Dontos gave her the hairnet with the poison that later killed Joffrey:

"You've waited so long, be patient awhile longer. Here, I have something for you." Ser Dontos fumbled in his pouch and drew out a silvery spiderweb, dangling it between his thick fingers. It was a hair net of fine-spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. "What stones are these?" "Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight." "It's very lovely," Sansa said, thinking, It is a ship I need, not a net for my hair. "Lovelier than you know, sweet child. It's magic, you see. It's justice you hold. It's vengeance for your father." Dontos leaned close and kissed her again. "It's home."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VIII

Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow.

(Art credit: Sansa Stark in the godswood of the Red Keep by Lauren K. Cannon)

Later Sansa realized that it was all Littlefinger’s plan. That Dontos sold her for a bag of golden dragons, that she carried the poison that killed Joffrey in her hair, that she was not going back home, to Winterfell, that life is not a song…

"He sold you for a promise of ten thousand dragons. Your disappearance will make them suspect you in Joffrey's death. The gold cloaks will hunt, and the eunuch will jingle his purse. Dontos . . . well, you heard him. He sold you for gold, and when he'd drunk it up he would have sold you again. A bag of dragons buys a man's silence for a while, but a well-placed quarrel buys it forever." He smiled sadly. "All he did he did at my behest. I dared not befriend you openly. When I heard how you saved his life at Joff's tourney, I knew he would be the perfect catspaw." Sansa felt sick. "He said he was my Florian." "Do you perchance recall what I said to you that day your father sat the Iron Throne?" The moment came back to her vividly. "You told me that life was not a song. That I would learn that one day, to my sorrow." She felt tears in her eyes, but whether she wept for Ser Dontos Hollard, for Joff, for Tyrion, or for herself, Sansa could not say. "Is it all lies, forever and ever, everyone and everything?" "Almost everyone. Save you and I, of course." He smiled. "Come to the godswood tonight if you want to go home." "The note . . . it was you?" "It had to be the godswood. No other place in the Red Keep is safe from the eunuch's little birds . . . or little rats, as I call them. There are trees in the godswood instead of walls. Sky above instead of ceiling. Roots and dirt and rock in place of floor. The rats have no place to scurry. Rats need to hide, lest men skewer them with swords."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

As I said before, this absence of weirwoods in the south (In the south the last weirwoods had been cut down or burned out a thousand years ago), illustrates how the further Sansa goes south, the more she loses and the more lies she is forced to say.

At Darry, she lost Lady. At the Red Keep, the Lannisters capture her father, friends and loyals to later kill them or put them into sex trafficking. She also “lost” her last name Stark to become “Lady Lannister,” and was forced to call her whole family traitors and profess how much she loved her captors and how very loyal she was to them.

After her escape from King’s Landing though, a different tale started to be forged, the legend of Sansa Stark, ever a traitor to the crown, a devoted daughter of the old gods of the north:

In King's Landing, Brienne had found one of Sansa's former maids doing washing in a brothel. "I served with Lord Renly before m'lady Sansa, and both turned traitor," the woman Brella complained bitterly. "No lord will touch me now, so I have to wash for whores." But when Brienne asked about Sansa, she said, "I'll tell you what I told Lord Tywin. That girl was always praying. She'd go to sept and light her candles like a proper lady, but near every night she went off to the godswood. She's gone back north, she has. That's where her gods are."

—A Feast for Crows - Brienne II

Oh the popular folklore! Always the best: During the day Sansa prayed to the Seven like a proper lady, but at night she was a wolf that was always howling in the godswood, talking to her nortern gods…

A godswood without gods, as empty as me.

The Eyrie had a godswood, but not a weirwood. Sansa couldn’t even sense the presence of the old gods now:

Even the gods were silent. The Eyrie boasted a sept, but no septon; a godswood, but no heart tree. No prayers are answered here, she often thought, though some days she felt so lonely she had to try. Only the wind answered her, sighing endlessly around the seven slim white towers and rattling the Moon Door every time it gusted. It will be even worse in winter, she knew. In winter this will be a cold white prison.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

The Vale of Arryn and the Eyrie were as beautiful as the songs said, but Sansa couldn’t love them, they were no home:

"You look distraught. Did you think we were making for Winterfell, sweetling? Winterfell has been taken, burned, and sacked. All those you knew and loved are dead. What northmen who have not fallen to the ironmen are warring amongst themselves. Even the Wall is under attack. Winterfell was the home of your childhood, Sansa, but you are no longer a child. You're a woman grown, and you need to make your own home." […] It had been years since Sansa last saw her mother's sister. She will be kind to me for my mother's sake, surely. She's my own blood. And the Vale of Arryn was beautiful, all the songs said so. Perhaps it would not be so terrible to stay here for a time.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

Old snow cloaked the courtyard, and icicles hung down like crystal spears from the terraces and towers. The Eyrie was built of fine white stone, and winter's mantle made it whiter still. So beautiful, Alayne thought, so impregnable. She could not love this place, no matter how she tried. Even before the guards and serving men had made their descent, the castle had seemed as empty as a tomb, and more so when Petyr Baelish was away. No one sang up there, not since Marillion. No one ever laughed too loud.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

She awoke all at once, every nerve atingle. For a moment she did not remember where she was. She had dreamt that she was little, still sharing a bedchamber with her sister Arya. But it was her maid she heard tossing in sleep, not her sister, and this was not Winterfell, but the Eyrie. And I am Alayne Stone, a bastard girl. The room was cold and black, though she was warm beneath the blankets. Dawn had not yet come. Sometimes she dreamed of Ser Ilyn Payne and woke with her heart thumping, but this dream had not been like that. Home. It was a dream of home. The Eyrie was no home. […] When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

A godswood without gods (a godswood without a weirwood), as empty as me (like Sansa without Lady).

A godswood without gods (a lone wolf), as empty as me (lost without its pack).

A godswood without gods (a body without its heart), as empty as me (disillusioned with love).

The snow fell and the castle rose.

(Art credit: Sansa Stark making a snow-castle of Winterfell at the Eyrie - by Michael Komarck.© )

Snow imagery is very important in Sansa’s arc. Snow means home, family and love:

Sansa is prophesied slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow (Winterfell reference).

The snow falling before dawn is what wakes her up from her dreams of Winterfell, the day she builds her snow castle.

She remembers Robb with snowflakes in his hair during their farewell.

She remembers the summer snows from the day she left Winterfell.

She remembers a snowball fight with Arya and Bran back at Winnterfell.

She associates snowflakes with lover’s kisses.

She associates the taste of snow with Winterfell, innocence and dreams.

She builds a snow castle that means to be Winterfell.

Sansa building her snow castle is a reminder of the First Men and the Children of the Forest victory over the Long Night at the Battle for the Dawn.

Sansa building her snow castle at dawn is foreshadowing of Sansa re-building Winterfell after the second Battle for the Dawn.

She calls the Eyrie “a castle made of snow” (Winterfell reference), the day she descends to the Gates of the Moon.

She (Alayne Stone) is called the daughter of a snowy mountain (Winterfell reference).

The snow is falling all around when she hears of Jon Snow and the wind howls fiercely like a ghost wolf, big as mountains.

That’s why Sansa building her snow castle is one of GRRM’s favorite scenes from the Books.

It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. [...] Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. [...] She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell. [...] Sansa said, “It’s meant to be Winterfell.” [...] “Winterfell is the seat of House Stark,” Sansa told her husband-to-be. “The great castle of the north.”

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Read more about George’s love for Sansa and her snow castle here, here, and also here.

Sansa is hiding in a strange and alien place, pretending to be another person, with another family and other roots. But her dreams, her deepest desires and even the weather are there to remind her who she really is. So, as an act of defiance, she builds a snow version of her true home out of memory. On the outside, this could simply be seen as a child playing in the snow, but deep down Sansa was yelling at the world that she was a Stark, that she was a wolf, a ghost wolf, big as mountains.

Sansa Stark went up the mountain, but Alayne Stone is coming down.

Alayne Stone, the natural daughter of Petyr Baelish, was born at Gulltown. She is fourteen years old and has dark brown hair. Her mother was a gentlewoman of Braavos, daughter of a merchant prince. Alayne was raised by Septas and devotedly instructed in the Faith.

Again, the absence of a weirwood, or any other species as a heart tree, meant that Sansa was surrounded by lies and something else was taken away from her. This time her hair color and true born status.

Sansa’s coloring: fair porcelain skin and rich auburn hair, works as a reference to the weirwood tree. We can also observe this reference in this passage:

She shrieked as Arya flung the orange across the table. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap. "You have juice on your face, Your Grace," Arya said. It was running down her nose and stinging her eyes. Sansa wiped it away with a napkin. When she saw what the fruit in her lap had done to her beautiful ivory silk dress, she shrieked again. "You're horrible," she screamed at her sister. "They should have killed you instead of Lady!"

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

Ivory (whitish) and red are the colors of the weirwood tree. The old gods reference and the mention of Lady make this passage very symbolic. The dress was a betrothal gift from Cersei, now stained with blood. Similar to Lady’s death that stained Sansa’s betrothal with Joffrey, who never forgot what happened at the Trident:

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

So, taking away her rich auburn hair color, was once again an attempt to cut her northern roots. Yes, Sansa’s hair color was a Tully feature, but a reference to the red weirwood leaves as well.

This is more evident when Jon reunites with Ghost and finds his answer to Stannis’s offer and refuses Winterfell in order to save the weirwood tree from the Lord of Light fires and protect Sansa’s claim to the castle. During this processes Jon says: i) Winterfell belongs to the old gods, ii) Ghost belongs to the old gods; and, iii) Winterfell belongs to Sansa. At this point the connection between Sansa and the weirwood tree is obvious and undeniable.

But what Sansa resented the most, was having lost her last name and true born status:

"Do you require guarding?" Marillion said lightly. "I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,' I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her." I am a Stark of Winterfell, she longed to tell him. Instead she nodded, and let him escort her down the tower steps and along a bridge.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

"I know Lord Nestor, sweetling. Do you imagine I'd ever let him harm my daughter?" I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard's daughter and Lady Catelyn's, the blood of Winterfell. She did not say it, though.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." […] Lord Royce saw . . . he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney."

[…] A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

So, when Sansa says: “Sansa Stark went up the mountain, but Alayne Stone is coming down”, it almost sounds like a death. The author himself said that “Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone”.

But “winter is coming,” and the cold is ruthless, the old gods are sending snow (and Snow) for Alayne Stone, to nourish her subtle acts of rebellion like, building snow castles, blurting out her bastard half brother’s name, and indulging herself with lemony, lemony, lemon cakes.

IV.3. THE HEART OF WINTERFELL

The castle might well be theirs, but never that godswood.

I tried to explain how Sansa started to become a symbol of Winterfell, no matter how many times other characters attempt to strip her of her true identity, and how many times readers question her Starkness. But the loss of Lady’s physical existence and the absence of weirwood trees in the south, made her feel empty, like a godswood without gods. But the heart of Winterfell, the heart of home, the weirwood tree, still stands back home and is fighting hard against invaders.

Some of Sansa’s suitors got to know Winterfell’s godswood, but the old gods rejected their presence and made them feel unwanted, just like Sansa does with some of them:

1. Theon Greyjoy

A pity Ned Stark had taken his daughters south; elsewise Theon could have tightened his grip on Winterfell by marrying one of them. Sansa was a pretty little thing too, and by now likely even ripe for bedding. But she was a thousand leagues away, in the clutches of the Lannisters. A shame.

—A Clash of Kings - Theon IV

He watched the forest go from grey to green below him as light filtered through the silent trees. On his left he could see tower tops above the inner wall, their roofs gilded by the rising sun. The red leaves of the weirwood were a blaze of flame among the green. Ned Stark's tree, he thought, and Stark's wood, Stark's castle, Stark's sword, Stark's gods. This is their place, not mine.

—A Clash of Kings - Theon V

Meanwhile Sansa completely ignores Theon’s past pretensions to marry her, and the only time she thought about her father’s ward, she called him Bran’s killer.

2. Tyrion Lannister

Tyrion had only the vaguest memory of Theon Greyjoy from his time with the Starks. A callow youth, always smiling, skilled with a bow; it was hard to imagine him as Lord of Winterfell. The Lord of Winterfell would always be a Stark.

He remembered their godswood; the tall sentinels armored in their grey-green needles, the great oaks, the hawthorn and ash and soldier pines, and at the center the heart tree standing like some pale giant frozen in time. He could almost smell the place, earthy and brooding, the smell of centuries, and he remembered how dark the wood had been even by day. That wood was Winterfell. It was the north. I never felt so out of place as I did when I walked there, so much an unwelcome intruder. He wondered if the Greyjoys would feel it too. The castle might well be theirs, but never that godswood. Not in a year, or ten, or fifty.

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion XI

Meanwhile, Sansa refuses to kneel for Tyrion to be able to cloak her (Dontos serves as stool), refuses his sexual advances with icy courtesy, never opens her heart to her husband’s offers to comfort, lies and outsmarts him about her visits to the godswood where she plans her escape from the capital, she makes him feel unwanted and hated, she puts a wall of icy courtesy between them that Tyrion never could climb or break:

No one had thought to bring a stool, however, and Tyrion stood a foot and a half shorter than his bride. As he moved behind her, Sansa felt a sharp tug on her skirt. He wants me to kneel, she realized, blushing. She was mortified. It was not supposed to be this way. She had dreamed of her wedding a thousand times, and always she had pictured how her betrothed would stand behind her tall and strong, sweep the cloak of his protection over her shoulders, and tenderly kiss her cheek as he leaned forward to fasten the clasp. She felt another tug at her skirt, more insistent. I won't. Why should I spare his feelings, when no one cares about mine? The dwarf tugged at her a third time. Stubbornly she pressed her lips together and pretended not to notice. […] He hopped down from the dais and grabbed Sansa roughly. "Come, wife, time to smash your portcullis. I want to play come-into-the-castle." Red-faced, Sansa went with him from the Small Hall. What choice do I have? […] "Well, talk won't make you older. Shall we get on with this, my lady? If it please you?" "It will please me to please my lord husband." That seemed to anger him. "You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall." "Courtesy is a lady's armor," Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that. "I am your husband. You can take off your armor now." [...] "On my honor as a Lannister," the Imp said, "I will not touch you until you want me to." It took all the courage that was in her to look in those mismatched eyes and say, "And if I never want you to, my lord?" His mouth jerked as if she had slapped him. "Never?" Her neck was so tight she could scarcely nod. "Why," he said, "that is why the gods made whores for imps like me." He closed his short blunt fingers into a fist, and climbed down off the bed.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa's misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good. No words would ever make him fair in her eyes. Or any less a Lannister. This was the wife they had given him, for all the rest of his life, and she hated him.

And their nights together in the great bed were another source of torment. He could no longer bear to sleep naked, as had been his custom. His wife was too well trained ever to say an unkind word, but the revulsion in her eyes whenever she looked on his body was more than he could bear. Tyrion had commanded Sansa to wear a sleeping shift as well. I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, to bring me her joys and her sorrows and her lust. His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. Yes, and I want to be tall as Jaime and as strong as Ser Gregor the Mountain too, for all the bloody good it does.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

The way she looked at him, her stiffness when she climbed into their bed . . . when he was with her, never for an instant could he forget who he was, or what he was. No more than she did. She still went nightly to the godswood to pray, and Tyrion wondered if she were praying for his death. She had lost her home, her place in the world, and everyone she had ever loved or trusted. Winter is coming, warned the Stark words, and truly it had come for them with a vengeance. But it is high summer for House Lannister. So why am I so bloody cold?

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VII

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy. […] He had always had a yen to see the Titan of Braavos. Perhaps that would please Sansa. Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and met a wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. It made him weary. Then and now.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

Once again, as it happened with the Hound, Sansa’s courtesy armors her against men that attempt to invade her body. In a similar way that the heart of Winterfell, the weirwood, makes the invaders feel unwanted and rejected.

3. Petyr Baelish

Littlefinger was never at Winterfell or the godswood, but he feels a deep hatred for the castle, he always dreamed of Winterfell as Catelyn’s dark and cold prison:

He walked along outside the walls. “I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Littlefinger is the cause of the War of the Five Kings that killed Sansa’s parents and older brother and separated her remaining siblings. The war also caused the fall of Winterfell that was, invaded, sacked and burned by the Greyjoys and Boltons.

But there is a connection between Littlefinger, Winterfell and the godswood. Littlefinger has involved Sansa in several murders, Joffrey’s and Lysa’s being the more important (Dontos and Marillion also suffered murder and mutilation). The King’s murder was planned in the Red Keep’s goodswood, and Lysa’s murder was a direct consequence of Petyr kissing Sansa in the Eyrie’s goodswood.

Now Littlefinger is grooming Sansa, forcing sexual advances on her, and those started during the snow castle scene. The symbolic image of a giant invading Winterfell also plays as an innuendo:

"May I come into your castle, my lady?" Sansa was wary. "Don't break it. Be . . ." ". . . gentle?" He smiled. "Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?" "Yes," Sansa admitted.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

The ambitious men that pursed Winterfell through marrying Sansa, also had to take her maidenhead and conceive an heir, in order to consolidate their claim to the castle and the north. So “coming into the castle” also means having sex and making children.

Littlefinger is too machiavellian, it seems he has used the godswoods not only to trap Sansa but also to reenact his children fantasy of being Catelyn’s love:

I saw you kissing in the snow. She's just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the godswood, but she never meant it, she never wanted you. Why did you love her best? It was me, it was always meeee!"

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

But Sansa, like Catelyn, never wanted and will never wants Petyr Baelish as lover.

Meanwhile at the Wall…

Jon Snow

Unlike Theon, Jon doesn’t feel rejected by the heart of Winterfell. Jon got a direwolf sent by the old gods that shares the weirwood’s coloring:

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Unlike Theon that invaded Winterfell and allowed the Ironmen to sack, pillage, kill and rape. And later let the Boltons into the castle to burn it. Jon wants to rebuild Winterfell:

They can’t be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell … grey granite, oak and iron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones … how could Winterfell be gone?

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Jon wanted Winterfell, as much as he had ever wanted anything, but unlike Tyrion, Jon rejects the castle in favor of Sansa. And Jon would never forced himself on Sansa if she doesn’t want him as well.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, to bring me her joys and her sorrows and her lust.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

The wording of these two passages (“He wanted it” / “I want her”), the Winterfell references, and the guilt and angst for desiring something forbidden (“May the gods forgive me” / “I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is”), is way too similar to be a mere coincidence. Winterfell and Sansa are merged in the text.

Tyrion and Littlefinger sexually desire Sansa and used the same Winterfell reference as an innuendo:

"Come, wife, time to smash your portcullis. I want to play come-into-the-castle."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Both Tyrion and Littlefinger have giant imagery around them, both even talk to her about the Giant of Braavos, both wanted Sansa politically (Winterfell) and sexually (her body), and Sansa has been prophesied slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow (Winterfell reference). I think that Jon might help her to fulfil that prophecy.

Indeed, Tyrion associates Sansa’s rejection of his advances as icy courtesy and compared that rejection with a castle wall and the Wall in the north:

"You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall." "Courtesy is a lady's armor," Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa's misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

But Sansa is “stronger within the walls of Winterfell” and Jon at the Wall is “the shield that guards the realms of men.”

Sansa also throws a handful of snow at Littlefinger’s face during the snow castle scene:

The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they'd raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. "That was unchivalrously done, my lady." "As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home." She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

A handful of snow… Wouldn’t be awesome if Jon Snow continue the Stark men tradition to beat Littlefinger out?

I was always suspicious of Littlefinger helping Sansa build her snow castle, but since Petyr Baelish has giant imagery around him, it all makes sense after reading this passage:

She looked as if she thought he was making that up. "How could men build so high, with no giants to lift the stones?" In legend, Brandon the Builder had used giants to help raise Winterfell, but Jon did not want to confuse the issue. "Men can build a lot higher than this. In Oldtown there's a tower taller than the Wall." He could tell she did not believe him.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

Sansa will be certainly grateful if she can take advantage of any help Baelish could offer to rebuild Winterfell, but she will slay him anyway, as in the songs:

“If the tales be true, that’s not the first giant to end up with his head on Winterfell’s walls.” “Those are only stories,” she said, and left him there.

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Unlike Petyr’s forced kisses, Sansa associates “snow” with lover’s kisses:

Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks.

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Unlike Petyr, that has used the godswoods of the Red Keep and the Eyrie, to lie and trap Sansa, and is an awful replacement as a father figure for Sansa, Jon would never lie to Sansa in front of the old gods, like Ned taught him:

Jon said, "My lord father believed no man could tell a lie in front of a heart tree. The old gods know when men are lying."

—A Clash of Kings - Jon II

As I said before, if Jon had accepted Stannis’s offer, he would have had Winterfell, but at an extremely high price: burning the weirwood tree, which, to him, would be sacrilege:

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Sansa feels empty like a godswood without gods, like a godswood without a weirwood tree, mostly because she lost Lady, but also because she feels like a lone wolf without its pack, and a body without its heart due to the extreme disillusionment she has suffered so far.

But Jon Snow has a direwolf that is a symbol of the weirwood tree, Jon himself is a symbol of the weirwood tree. And Sansa has become a symbol of Winterfell and the godswood, but she feels empty without her wolf. Then Ghost might complete Sansa’s empty godswood, and Jon might fill Sansa’s heart again. And together they could be a pack. And together they could rebuild their home. Please play North by Sleeping at Last here.

So…

…One would have to wonder why GRRM is always comparing and contrasting Sansa’s suitors with her bastard half brother Jon Snow? What is the reason for that? Does that mean that something romantic will happen between Sansa and Jon in the future? Is that just a mere coincidence? If the same thing (Sansa’s suitor being compared and contrasted with Jon Snow) happened three times, can we really call it a mere coincidence? One would have to wonder… Why?

IV.4. SANSA THE WOLF

My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.

(Picture credit: Sophie Turner)

Acording to GRRM, all the Stark children are wargs or skinchangers:

“I don’t think this is necessarily a ‘Stark’ ability, though all the children have it to one extent or another. They also realize it to one extent or another”. [Source]

Q: Are all the Stark children wargs/skin changers with their wolves? A: To a greater or lesser degree, yes, but the amount of control varies widely. [Source]

Oh, George said all the Stark children of this generation were full Wargs. I thought they were like one shot Wargs and were only bonded to their wolves but no they can warg into just about anything. Bran is just the only one working on it. [Source]

Since Lady died, Sansa lost the opportunity to form a deeper bond with her wolf and to further develop and recognise her skinchanger abilities.

But I believe that Lady’s soul still remains in the world, and that’s why Bran calls and counts Sansa’s wolf as “Lady’s Shade.”

Of late, he often dreamed of wolves. They are talking to me, brother to brother, he told himself when the direwolves howled. He could almost understand them . . . not quite, not truly, but almost . . . as if they were singing in a language he had once known and somehow forgotten. The Walders might be scared of them, but the Starks had wolf blood. Old Nan told him so. "Though it is stronger in some than in others," she warned. Summer's howls were long and sad, full of grief and longing. Shaggydog's were more savage. Their voices echoed through the yards and halls until the castle rang and it seemed as though some great pack of direwolves haunted Winterfell, instead of only two . . . two where there had once been six. Do they miss their brothers and sisters too? Bran wondered. Are they calling to Grey Wind and Ghost, to Nymeria and Lady's Shade? Do they want them to come home and be a pack together?

—A Clash of Kings - Bran I

Read more about Lady’s Shade here.

We also have this passage about a Child of the Forest long dead but part of her still remaining in a raven:

“Someone else was in the raven,” he told Lord Brynden, once he had returned to his own skin. “Some girl. I felt her.” “A woman, of those who sing the song of earth,” his teacher said. “Long dead, yet a part of her remains, just as a part of you would remain in Summer if your boy’s flesh were to die upon the morrow. A shadow on the soul. She will not harm you.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Bran III

So it is possible that part of Lady still remains inside of Sansa, and that’s why Sansa always dreams with Lady (wolf dreams). Only Jon stopped dreaming with Ghost for a time, coincidentally, when they were separated by the Wall:

The warg, I've heard them call me. How can I be a warg without a wolf, I ask you?" His mouth twisted. "I don't even dream of Ghost anymore. All my dreams are of the crypts, of the stone kings on their thrones. Sometimes I hear Robb's voice, and my father's, as if they were at a feast. But there's a wall between us, and I know that no place has been set for me."

—A Storm of Swords - Samwell IV

Most of Sansa’s dreams with Lady is about both of them running in a godswood (Lady’s bones are buried near Winterfell’s godswood), and although Sansa doesn’t remember much of her dreams, she always whispers and/or wakes up with Lady’s name on her lips:

Sansa sat up. "Lady," she whispered. For a moment it was as if the direwolf was there in the room, looking at her with those golden eyes, sad and knowing. She had been dreaming, she realized. Lady was with her, and they were running together, and … and … trying to remember was like trying to catch the rain with her fingers. The dream faded, and Lady was dead again.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

Tyrion dressed himself in darkness, listening to his wife's soft breathing from the bed they shared. She dreams, he thought, when Sansa murmured something softly—a name, perhaps, though it was too faint to say—and turned onto her side.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VII

Even after her nightmares, she thinks of her Lady:

"I'll have a song from you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. "I wish that you were Lady," she said.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

Some readers have speculated about Sansa and her link with other animals, and the possibility of Sansa changing skins with them, like the black tomcat of the Red Keep, the old blind dog of the Fingers, and even the blue falcon that she observed flying above the Eyrie.

From the Prologue of A Dance with Dragons we know that cats aren’t good to warg into:

Other beasts were best left alone, the hunter had declared. Cats were vain and cruel, always ready to turn on you.

—A Dance with Dragons - Prologue

During her encounter with the black tomcat of the Red Keep, Sansa “almost jumped out her skin.” This is a very interesting wording that almost sounds like skinchanging:

The serpentine steps twisted ahead, striped by bars of flickering light from the narrow windows above. Sansa was panting by the time she reached the top. She ran down a shadowy colonnade and pressed herself against a wall to catch her breath. When something brushed against her leg, she almost jumped out of her skin, but it was only a cat, a ragged black tom with a chewed-off ear. The creature spit at her and leapt away.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

“Cats were vain and cruel, always ready to turn on you”, maybe, that’s why after approaching Sansa willingly, the black tomcat “spit at her and leapt away”. This scene happens when Sansa was coming to the godswood to meet with Dontos for the first time. After Sansa arrives, she immediately thinks of Lady.

From the Prologue of A Dance with Dragons we also know that dogs are the easiest animals to bond with:

Dogs were the easiest beasts to bond with; they lived so close to men that they were almost human. Slipping into a dog's skin was like putting on an old boot, its leather softened by wear. As a boot was shaped to accept a foot, a dog was shaped to accept a collar, even a collar no human eye could see.

—A Dance with Dragons - Prologue

Sansa bonds with the old blind dog of the Fingers fast and easily. The dog is affectionate, tries to defend Sansa from Marillion’s attack, and is next to her after the nightmares of past sexual abuse by the Hound and Tyrion, provoked by the singer’s attack:

It was eight long days until Lysa Arryn arrived. On five of them it rained, while Sansa sat bored and restless by the fire, beside the old blind dog. He was too sick and toothless to walk guard with Bryen anymore, and mostly all he did was sleep, but when she patted him he whined and licked her hand, and after that they were fast friends. […] "Alayne." Her aunt's singer stood over her. "Sweet Alayne. I am Marillion. I saw you come in from the rain. The night is chill and wet. Let me warm you." The old dog raised his head and growled, but the singer gave him a cuff and sent him slinking off, whimpering. […] "I'll have a song from you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. "I wish that you were Lady," she said.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

And about birds, this is what the Prologue of A Dance with Dragons tells us:

"Some skins you never want to wear, boy. You won't like what you'd become." Birds were the worst, to hear him tell it. "Men were not meant to leave the earth. Spend too much time in the clouds and you never want to come back down again. I know skinchangers who've tried hawks, owls, ravens. Even in their own skins, they sit moony, staring up at the bloody blue." Not all skinchangers felt the same, however.

—A Dance with Dragons - Prologue

We know that Sansa likes to go hawking, and she is better than Stannis at it:

“Do you hawk, Sansa?” “A little,” she admitted.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

The day before last she’d taken Sansa hawking. […] Sansa’s merlin brought down three ducks while Margaery’s peregrine took a heron in full flight.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

But once again trapped in a tower, Sansa wishes she has wings:

A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

Sansa warging abilities are hidden so deep in the text, they only shyly appear in the middle of George’s prose as little pieces of poetry:

My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.

Now tell me, what is that if not skinchanging?

And talking about birds, Sansa has already changed her skin with some birds, she was a talking little bird of the Summer Islands (repeating the right things to survive), then a mockingbird (as Petyr Baelish daughter), and she’s about to become a falcon (if she marries Harry).

And since cloaks could also be considered another skin, Sansa has already changed various cloaks. She was cloaked by a Lannister, then by her new father Petyr Baelish, and is about to be cloaked again by an Arryn.

But Sansa is a wolf, no matter how many skins she wears, she will always be a wolf:

A man might befriend a wolf, even break a wolf, but no man could truly tame a wolf.

—A Dance with Dragons – Prologue

“She’s not a dog, she’s a direwolf.”

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

“The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.”

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

As you can see, Sansa’s true skin is waiting for her at Winterfell…

A direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, her golden eyes shining sadly through the dark . .

At Darry, the Lannisters killed Lady.

At King’s Landing, Joffrey used to punish Sansa in public, humiliating her for having the blood of a wolf, for being an unnatural creature like her brother Robb that defeated Lannister soldiers fighting with an army of wargs:

"Silence, fool." Joffrey lifted his crossbow and pointed it at her face. "You Starks are as unnatural as those wolves of yours. I've not forgotten how your monster savaged me." "That was Arya's wolf," she said. "Lady never hurt you, but you killed her anyway." […] “This girl’s to be your queen,” the Imp told Joffrey. “Have you no regard for her honor?” “I’m punishing her.” “For what crime? She did not fight her brother’s battle.” “She has the blood of a wolf.”

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

So, the Lannisters thought that Sansa was a tamed wolf. Tyrion used to call her his “child bride” or “child wife”, for everyone in the court she was the imp’s “little wife,” or the “little bird” in her gilded cage. But after Joffrey's death, Sansa began to be seen by her captors as a cunning wolf who hid under a sheepskin, an ungrateful wolf who bit the hands that fed her:

“That night, alone in his tower cell with a blank parchment and a cup of wine, Tyrion found himself thinking of his wife. Not Sansa; his first wife, Tysha. The whore wife, not the wolf wife.”

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IX

"It was sweet," lied Tyrion, "but I am married. She was with me at the feast, you may remember her. Lady Sansa." "Was she your wife? She … she was very beautiful …" And false. Sansa, Shae, all my women …

—A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

“Your Grace has forgotten the Lady Sansa,” said Pycelle. The queen bristled. “I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf.” She refused to say the girl’s name. “I ought to have shown her to the black cells as the daughter of a traitor, but instead I made her part of mine own household. She shared my hearth and hall, played with my own children. I fed her, dressed her, tried to make her a little less ignorant about the world, and how did she repay me for my kindness? She helped murder my son.

—A Feast for Crows - Cersei IV

And while Sansa wishes she had feathery wings, unbeknownst to her, she became part of the popular folklore when the smallfolk began to imagine her as a witchy kingslayer that later vanished in a puff of brimstone or changed into a “wolf with big leather wings like a bat” and flew away:

“I forgot, you’ve been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head.”

—A Storm of Swords - Arya XIII

“The dwarf’s wife did the murder with him,” swore an archer in Lord Rowan’s livery. “Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws.”

—A Storm of Swords - Jaime VII

In the same book and with a very similar wording, Jon dreams of a ghastly direwolf wandering around the Crypts of Winterfell:

The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his her golden eyes shining sadly through the dark . .

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

My personal theory is that the ghastly direwolf is Lady, because, among other reasons, this wouldn’t be the first time that Jon confused Ygritte with another redhead.

These legends of Sansa the witch, the unnatural warg, the beastling, the skinchanger, the winged wolf that flew away from a tower window or vanished in a puff of brimstone, are at the same level of the legends about Bloodraven warging into a one-eyed dog and turning into a mist from a century ago:

How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have? the riddle ran. A thousand eyes, and one. Some claimed the King's Hand was a student of the dark arts who could change his face, put on the likeness of a one-eyed dog, even turn into a mist. Packs of gaunt gray wolves hunted down his foes, men said, and carrion crows spied for him and whispered secrets in his ear. Most of the tales were only tales, Dunk did not doubt, but no one could doubt that Bloodraven had informers everywhere.

—The Mystery Knight

If Sansa or Lady’s Shade have really changed skins with the old blind dog of the Fingers, that would be almost the same as Bloodraven warging or shapechanging into a one-eyed dog. By the way, the old blind dog’s master’s name was Bryen, a name way too similar to Brynden (Bloodraven’s name)…

But back again to the “wolf with big leather wings like a bat.” This interesting image reminds me of dragons instead of bats, and I think that was precisely George’s intention, he was subtly referring to dragon wings:

[…] “They say the child was …” […] “Monstrous,” Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. […] “Twisted. I drew him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat.

—A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

In the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a red brick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze. Twenty feet tall she reared. She had a woman’s face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes, and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore a scorpion’s curled and venomous tail.

—A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

So, this fascinating image of a “wolf with big leather wings like a bat” could be foreshadowing of Sansa wearing a Targaryen cloak in the future. Or at least having the support and protection of someone related to dragons.

V. SO LONG AS THOSE REMAINED, WINTERFELL REMAINED

Stone and Snow, that was all that was left of Winterfell. Just like she and Jon.

As far as I know, this line: “Stone and Snow, that was all that was left of Winterfell. Just like she and Jon.” comes from a piece of fan-fiction. Sadly I don’t know what fan-fiction it is from (if anyone knows please inform me, so I can cite it properly). But no matter its non-canon origins, this line summarizes a huge and beautiful theme in Sansa and Jon’s arcs: Rebuilding their lost and broken home, Winterfell.

Stone and snow is basically what the north is to someone from the south:

Well, you know, there’s something to be said for being an honorable Stark, but you’re kinda cold all the time and poor and so forth. And you have a lot of land, but there’s not a lot of stuff on it, you know?

—GRRM

"I trust you enjoyed the journey, Your Grace?" Robert snorted. "Bogs and forests and fields, and scarcely a decent inn north of the Neck. I've never seen such a vast emptiness. Where are all your people?" "Likely they were too shy to come out," Ned jested. He could feel the chill coming up the stairs, a cold breath from deep within the earth. "Kings are a rare sight in the north." Robert snorted. "More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!"

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

Moreso, after Robb Stark lost the north at the hands of the Greyjoys, people in King’s Landing considered the northern lands just a pile of stone and snow:

"And if we accept this alliance?" inquired Lord Mathis Rowan. "What terms does he propose?" "That we recognize his kingship and grant him everything north of the Neck." Lord Redwyne laughed. "What is there north of the Neck that any sane man would want? If Greyjoy will trade swords and sails for stone and snow, I say do it, and count ourselves lucky."

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III

But the stone is strong, the snow means home, love and family for the Starks, and the north also has its ancient trees and bones:

At the edge of the wolfswood, Bran turned in his basket for one last glimpse of the castle that had been his life. Wisps of smoke still rose into the grey sky, but no more than might have risen from Winterfell’s chimneys on a cold autumn afternoon. Soot stains marked some of the arrow loops, and here and there a crack or a missing merlon could be seen in the curtain wall, but it seemed little enough from this distance. Beyond, the tops of the keeps and towers still stood as they had for hundreds of years, and it was hard to tell that the castle had been sacked and burned at all. The stone is strong, Bran told himself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, he thought. I’m not dead either.

—A Clash of Kings - Bran VII

Like Bran, Jon Snow also considers stone (grey granite), root (oak, weirwood), and bone (stone kings) as the fundamental pieces of Winterfell:

They can't be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell . . . grey granite, oak and iron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones . . . how could Winterfell be gone

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Maester Luwin also distinguishes stone and root as the main pieces of Winterfell:

The place [Winterfell] had grown over the centuries like some monstrous stone tree, Maester Luwin told him once, and its branches were gnarled and thick and twisted, its roots sunk deep into the earth.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran II

The toughness of stone and root has been highlighted by the author through the description of Yoren:

Yoren was stooped and sinister, his features hidden behind a beard as black as his clothing, but he seemed as tough as an old root and as hard as stone.

—A Game of Thrones - Tyrion II

Even the intruders recognize the strength of Winterfell’s stone walls:

He remembered Winterfell as he had last seen it. Not as grotesquely huge as Harrenhal, nor as solid and impregnable to look at as Storm's End, yet there had been a great strength in those stones, a sense that within those walls a man might feel safe.

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion XI

Winterfell…

…Sacked, burned, broken and without a Stark within its walls (save by Lady’s bones). But the stone is strong and the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained.

Have you noticed already? Have you noticed the references to Sansa and Jon (and Bran) in that quote?

The stone is strong = The walls of Winterfell = Alayne Stone = Sansa Stark.

The roots of the trees go deep = The weirwood tree (the heart of Winterfell) = Ghost = Jon Snow (and Bran the three-eyed raven in his weirwood net).

Under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones = I believe this is a reference to Jon, Sansa and Bran eventual crowning as monarchs of the north and/or the whole kingdom.

The pillars of Winterfell are stone, root and bone.

V.1. STONE

The stone is strong = The walls of Winterfell = Alayne Stone = Sansa Stark.

Sansa Stark has a lot of stone imagery around her.

Winterfell’s walls are made of grey granite. Grey is also a color of House Stark and I believe that Sansa will be the girl in grey on a dying horse from Melisandre’s vision.

As the Heir to Winterfell, Sansa was practically transformed into a stone castle, Winterfell, and the north itself, since the one that controlled her would obtain all her lands and power. Or, to use the euphemism from the Books, Sansa Stark was the “key to the north.”

Tyrion associates Sansa’s rejection of his advances as icy courtesy and compared that rejection with a castle wall that he never got to break:

"You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall." "Courtesy is a lady's armor," Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa's misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

The castle wall that armored Sansa and Tyrion never got to break is a clear reference to Winterfell:

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion XI

And certainly, Sansa feels stronger and protected withing the walls of Winterfell:

Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. "That was unchivalrously done, my lady." "As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home." She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Sansa feeling stronger within the walls of Winterfell, sounds pretty similar to “the stone is strong” line from Bran quote cited above.

Later, while descending from the Eyrie to the Gates of the Moon, Mya Stone tells Sansa that “a stone is a mountain’s daughter.”

Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain’s daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won’t fall.” She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. “Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

One of Winterfell’s possible meanings is “wintry mountain(s).” And Sansa Stark is “The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter”.

As the daughter of Petyr Baelish, Alayne Stone also becomes the Heir to Harrenhal, another great castle made of strong stone. Only dragon fire was able to melt Harrenhal’s stone walls:

Stone does not burn, Harren had boasted, but his castle was not made of stone alone. […] And even stone will crack and melt if a fire is hot enough. The riverlords outside the castle walls said later that the towers of Harrenhal glowed red against the night, like five great candles... and like candles, they began to twist and melt, as runnels of molten stone ran down their sides.

—The World of Ice and Fire - The Reign of the Dragons: The Conquest

Moreover we have the parallels that Sansa shares with Jenny of Oldstones. And Oldstones serves us as an example of the strength of the stone.

Just like Winterfell was the stronghold of the ancient Kings of Winter, Oldstones was the stronghold of the ancient River Kings (House Mudd of Oldstones), both dynasties descendants of the First Men. And if we read about Oldstones, thinking about Winterfell is an inevitability:

They reached Oldstones after eight more days of steady rain, and made their camp upon the hill overlooking the Blue Fork, within a ruined stronghold of the ancient river kings. Its foundations remained amongst the weeds to show where the walls and keeps had stood, but the local smallfolk had long ago made off with most of the stones to raise their barns and septs and holdfasts. Yet in the center of what once would have been the castle's yard, a great carved sepulcher still rested, half hidden in waist-high brown grass amongst a stand of ash. The lid of the sepulcher had been carved into a likeness of the man whose bones lay beneath, but the rain and the wind had done their work. The king had worn a beard, they could see, but otherwise his face was smooth and featureless, with only vague suggestions of a mouth, a nose, eyes, and the crown about the temples. His hands folded over the shaft of a stone warhammer that lay upon his chest. Once the warhammer would have been carved with runes that told its name and history, but all that the centuries had worn away. The stone itself was cracked and crumbling at the corners, discolored here and there by spreading white splotches of lichen, while wild roses crept up over the king's feet almost to his chest.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

Despite the pass of time the foundations of Oldstones remained and the stones were even used by the smallfolk to rise new buildings. The stone is really strong.

What also remained despite the centuries was the tomb of King Tristifer IV Mudd, also known as the Hammer of Justice, which immediately reminds me of the crypts of Winterfell and its stone kings sitting on their thrones with their swords across their laps.

And just like songs are still sung about a girl named Jenny from Oldstones who found true love with a Targaryen prince, I’m pretty sure that many songs will be sung about Sansa Stark from Winterfell and her own Targaryen prince.

Finally, is worth mentioning that Stark means “strong” in German. And there’s a theory about House Strong (extinguished) being linked to House Stark.

Stone = Strong = Stark

So by saying the stone is strong, we are also saying the stone is Stark.

Alayne Stone is Sansa Stark.

V.2. ROOT

The roots of the trees go deep = The weirwood tree (the heart of Winterfell) = Ghost = Jon Snow

The roots of the trees going deep is a clear reference to the trees from the godswood and especially to the weirwood tree, the heart of Winterfell, as Ned always said.

As it was explained above, in Jon Snow and Ghost we really have symbols of the weirwood tree. Jon Snow and Ghost represent the heart of Winterfell:

The weirwood tree = red leaves, white bark, watchful eyes, silent, belongs to the old gods.

Ghost = red eyes, white fur, watchful eyes, silent, belongs to the old gods.

The face carved in Winterfell’s heart tree = “long”, “melancholy”, “solemn”, “watchful” and “brooding”.

Jon Snow’s face and features = “long”, “melancholy”, “solemn”, “watchful” and “brooding”.

This sentiment of correspondence and belonging becomes more evident when Jon reunites with Ghost and finds his answer to Stannis’s offer and refuses Winterfell in order to save the weirwood tree from the Lord of Light fires:

Winterfell belongs to the old gods

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Ghost belongs to the old gods

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

By saving the weirwood tree Jon also stood up for Sansa’s claim to Winterfell:

Winterfell belongs to Sansa

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

These quotes form an important sequence that joins Jon and Sansa and Winterfell thematically and symbolically. However, I must say that the sequence is incomplete. The first quote is still to be revealed at the end of this work.

V.3. BONE

And under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones = Jon and Sansa (and Bran) eventual crowning as monarchs.

The Crypts of Winterfell contain the tombs of past members of House Stark, but only the past Kings and Lords have statues (the stone kings). Despite the tradition, Ned has statues made for Brandon and Lyanna. But inside the tombs and statues there are bones. The Crypts of Winterfell is basically an ossuary below the castle.

All those ancient bones are powerful, as Melisandre explained:

"The bones help," said Melisandre. "The bones remember. The strongest glamors are built of such things. A dead man's boots, a hank of hair, a bag of fingerbones. With whispered words and prayer, a man's shadow can be drawn forth from such and draped about another like a cloak. The wearer's essence does not change, only his seeming."

—A Dance with Dragons - Melisandre I

Brandon The Builder must had known about the power of bones and that’s why he designed the Crypts of Winterfell to be the foundation of the castle.

In fact, all the north is full of barrows (the ancient graves of the First Men):

"The barrows of the First Men." Robert frowned. "Have we ridden onto a graveyard?" "There are barrows everywhere in the north, Your Grace," Ned told him. "This land is old."

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard II

This is how the Crypts of Winterfell are described:

"Your Grace," Ned said respectfully. He swept the lantern in a wide semicircle. Shadows moved and lurched. Flickering light touched the stones underfoot and brushed against a long procession of granite pillars that marched ahead, two by two, into the dark. Between the pillars, the dead sat on their stone thrones against the walls, backs against the sepulchres that contained their mortal remains. "She is down at the end, with Father and Brandon."

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

As the granite walls on the surface work as a frame for the living, the granite pillars under the ground work as a frame for the dead. And the stone kings also work as the foundation of the castle, not only in a systemic way, but also as the ancient legacy of House Stark, their history through the centuries, a past that they should not forget. The bones remember.

Also, the long procession of granite pillars placed two by two makes me think about all the pairs of Kings and Queens of Winter, and Lords and Ladies of Winterfell, that existed from the beginning, since all those couples are also the foundation of House Stark.

All the Stark children use to play in the Crypts:

Bran could not recall the last time he had been in the crypts. It had been before, for certain. When he was little, he used to play down here with Robb and Jon and his sisters. He wished they were here now; the vault might not have seemed so dark and scary.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran VII

Later the Crypts protected Bran and Rickon when the Greyjoys and later the Boltons invaded the castle.

Jon has a particular relationship with the Crypts of Winterfell. It was there where Jon disguised as a ghost covered in flour to scare his younger siblings. Later he named his direwolf Ghost and much later Jon was killed and will probably reside inside Ghost for a while.

As I said before, Winterfell is what Jon wanted, as much as he had ever wanted anything, but his strong desire for Winterfell fills him with an enormous guilt. And all that guilt is represented in “the Winterfell dream” which is more like a repetitive nightmare for Jon, that always ends at the Crypts of Winterfell:

And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It's black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don't want to. I'm afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps, but it's not them I'm afraid of. I scream that I'm not a Stark, that this isn't my place, but it's no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream."

—A Game of Thrones - Jon IV

Last night he had dreamt the Winterfell dream again. He was wandering the empty castle, searching for his father, descending into the crypts. Only this time the dream had gone further than before. In the dark he'd heard the scrape of stone on stone. When he turned he saw that the vaults were opening, one after the other. As the dead kings came stumbling from their cold black graves, Jon had woken in pitch-dark, his heart hammering.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon VII

Until this point during those dreams, it was Jon himself who said “I’m not a Stark” and “this isn’t my place”, since he would never be the Lord of Winterfell or have the right to be buried there, but with every “Winterfell dream”, the stone kings gain more prominence:

He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. "Father?" he called. "Bran? Rickon?" No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. "Uncle?" he called. "Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me." Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

"What everyone knows is that Ser Alliser is a knight from a noble line, and trueborn, while I'm the bastard who killed Qhorin Halfhand and bedded with a spearwife. The warg, I've heard them call me. How can I be a warg without a wolf, I ask you?" His mouth twisted. "I don't even dream of Ghost anymore. All my dreams are of the crypts, of the stone kings on their thrones. Sometimes I hear Robb's voice, and my father's, as if they were at a feast. But there's a wall between us, and I know that no place has been set for me."

—A Storm of Swords - Samwell IV

In these later dreams, the stone kings are the ones telling Jon “You are no Stark,” “There is no place for you here. Go away”. These words are pretty similar to the words Catelyn Stark told to Jon when he said goodbye to Bran:

Lady Stark looked over. For a moment she did not seem to recognize him. Finally she blinked. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a voice strangely flat and emotionless. "I came to see Bran," Jon said. "To say good-bye." Her face did not change. Her long auburn hair was dull and tangled. She looked as though she had aged twenty years. "You've said it. Now go away." Part of him wanted only to flee, but he knew that if he did he might never see Bran again. He took a nervous step into the room. "Please," he said. Something cold moved in her eyes. "I told you to leave," she said. "We don't want you here."

—A Game of Thrones - Jon II

And what was the reason for this change? I think the answer is that Robb Stark became King in The North:

Jon was still not certain how he felt about it. Robb a king? The brother he'd played with, fought with, shared his first cup of wine with? But not mother's milk, no. So now Robb will sip summerwine from jeweled goblets, while I'm kneeling beside some stream sucking snowmelt from cupped hands. "Robb will make a good king," he said loyally. […] "I've always known that Robb would be Lord of Winterfell." Mormont gave a whistle, and the bird flew to him again and settled on his arm. "A lord's one thing, a king's another." He offered the raven a handful of corn from his pocket. "They will garb your brother Robb in silks, satins, and velvets of a hundred different colors, while you live and die in black ringmail. He will wed some beautiful princess and father sons on her. You'll have no wife, nor will you ever hold a child of your own blood in your arms. Robb will rule, you will serve. Men will call you a crow. Him they'll call Your Grace. Singers will praise every little thing he does, while your greatest deeds all go unsung. Tell me that none of this troubles you, Jon . . . and I'll name you a liar, and know I have the truth of it." Jon drew himself up, taut as a bowstring. "And if it did trouble me, what might I do, bastard as I am?"

—A Clash of Kings - Jon I

Robb, who always had the right to have all that Jon wanted, now had also become a young king, like Daeron Targaryen, one of Jon heroes. Jon has an even higher standard to reach in order to prove the world that he is a man that worth despite of being a bastard:

Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon X

You can't be the Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born, he heard Robb say again. And the stone kings were growling at him with granite tongues. You do not belong here. This is not your place.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

And here is a good moment to say: Oh the irony! Because we all know what happened with Robb, he died just like Daeron Targaryen, young and with no children to succeed him. And is most probable that Robb had named Jon his heir in his will. So Jon Snow is likely to be the next King in the North, with the right to be buried in the Crypts of Winterfell, just like the ancient Kings of Winter that are sitting under the ground on their stone thrones.

But not only that, unbeknownst to Jon, he actually belongs in the Crypts of Winterfell, not only because he will probably become the next King in the North, but because his mother, Lyanna Stark, is buried there. Jon’s mother’s bones are buried in the Crypts of Winterfell. And the bones remember.

Lady’s bones are also buried near the Crypts of Winterfell, in the lichyard, and Jon had a dream of a ghastly direwolf wandering around the tombs:

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

As I mentioned before, my personal theory is that the ghastly direwolf is Lady.

Ned carried Lyanna’s bones from Dorne to the north, to be buried in the crypts of Winterfell, the same way he ordered his men to carry Lady’s bones from Darry to the north, to be buried in the lichyard of Winterfell (near to the crypts). So Lyanna’s and Lady’s bones being buried at Winterfell, makes them literally Ladies of Winterfell.

Traditionally, only the Kings of Winter and Lords of Winterfell have their statues carved in stone in the Crypts of Winterfell, with the sole exception of Ned’s siblings Brandon and Lyanna (And Artos Stark from the past). I believe this particular could be a hint that Bran (represented by Brandon) and Sansa (represented by Lyanna), will be crowned monarchs as well, with the right to be buried in the Crypts of Winterfell, just like the ancient Kings of Winter that are sitting under the ground on their stone thrones.

Winterfell is stone, root and bone. And through the years the castle has even taken the form of a tree, a labyrinthine stone tree:

To a boy, Winterfell was a grey stone labyrinth of walls and towers and courtyards and tunnels spreading out in all directions. In the older parts of the castle, the halls slanted up and down so that you couldn't even be sure what floor you were on. The place had grown over the centuries like some monstrous stone tree, Maester Luwin told him once, and its branches were gnarled and thick and twisted, its roots sunk deep into the earth.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran II

This image of Winterfell taking the form of a tree makes me think about the weirwood tree, the heart of the castle, and how the castle itself is emulating its heart growing in the same way as the heart tree. And at the same time, this image of Winterfell as a “stone tree” makes me think so much about Sansa as the stone, and Jon as the deep rooted tree.

To sum it up: If the heart tree is the heart of Winterfell, its ancient roots going deep represent the circulatory system and the stone kings in the ground play the role of the skeletal system, leaving the stone walls to be the exterior frame that contains all these parts.

As a simile of a living organism, Winterfell has its own blood as well:

Of all the rooms in Winterfell's Great Keep, Catelyn's bedchambers were the hottest. She seldom had to light a fire. The castle had been built over natural hot springs, and the scalding waters rushed through its walls and chambers like blood through a man's body, driving the chill from the stone halls, filling the glass gardens with a moist warmth, keeping the earth from freezing. Open pools smoked day and night in a dozen small courtyards. That was a little thing, in summer; in winter, it was the difference between life and death.

—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn II

“In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold.”

“No. It was always warm, even when it snowed. Water from the hot springs is piped through the walls to warm them, and inside the glass gardens it was always like the hottest day of summer.”

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

There you have it!

As long as Sansa Stark and Jon Snow remain, Winterfell remains.

Sansa and Jon are the two pillars on which Winterfell will stands. They are destined to retake and rebuild their home together.

If Sansa and Jon join their lives in marriage and fill Winterfell’s walls with Stark children again, Winterfell will also remain through their heirs. The blood of Winterfell will continue. The Stark legacy will last.

V.4. STONE (STARK) AND SNOW

Winterfell is stone, root and bone, and snow is the castle’s cloak.

Winterfell walls are grey granite but the snow covering them like a cloak, especially during winters, makes the castle snow white. A perfect marriage.

Grey and white are the colors of House Stark. The Stark sigil is a grey direwolf racing across a field of white. The bastard sigil is the same but with the colors reversed. In the same way, Jon and Sansa seems to be complementary of each other.

The snow castle.

Littlefinger falsely promised Sansa to take her home. But then he told her that Winterfell is gone, so she must make herself a new home:

"But . . . my lord, you said . . . you said we were sailing home." […] His grey-green eyes regarded her innocently. "You look distraught. Did you think we were making for Winterfell, sweetling? Winterfell has been taken, burned, and sacked. All those you knew and loved are dead. What northmen who have not fallen to the ironmen are warring amongst themselves. Even the Wall is under attack. Winterfell was the home of your childhood, Sansa, but you are no longer a child. You're a woman grown, and you need to make your own home."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

So, as an act of defiance, despite being under the guise of Alayne Stone, Sansa built a snow version of her true home out of memory, yelling at the world that she was a Stark of Winterfell:

What do I want with snowballs? She looked at her sad little arsenal. There’s no one to throw them at. She let the one she was making drop from her hand. I could build a snow knight instead, she thought. Or even…

[…] The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. Some things were hard to remember, but most came back to her easily, as if she had been there only yesterday. The Library Tower, with the steep stonework stair twisting about its exterior. The gatehouse, two huge bulwarks, the arched gate between them, crenellations all along the top…

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Sansa and her snow castle passage foreshadows Sansa’s actively participation in Winterfell’s restoration.

And who else wants to restore Winterfell? Jon, the Snow of Winterfell:

“Drink this.” Grenn held a cup to his lips. Jon drank. His head was full of wolves and eagles, the sound of his brothers’ laughter. The faces above him began to blur and fade. They can’t be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell … grey granite, oak and iron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones … how could Winterfell be gone?

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

That’s why this line: “The snow fell and the castle rose” makes me think that Jon will help Sansa to rebuild Winterfell, their lost and broken home.

The blood of Winterfell.

And Jon and Sansa could also “rebuild” the Stark dynasty, as they both share the dream of having children to fill the void of their lost family, their lost parents and siblings:

Willas would be Lord of Highgarden and she would be his lady. She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa’s dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We’d find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Indeed, among all the Stark children, Sansa and Jon are the only ones that are called –or call themselves, the blood of Winterfell:

Jon’s throat was raw. He looked at them all helplessly. “She yielded herself to me.” “Then you must do what needs be done,” Qhorin Halfhand said. “You are the blood of Winterfell and a man of the Night’s Watch.”

—A Clash of Kings - Jon VI

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father’s face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn’t, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night’s Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

“What if Lord Nestor values honor more than profit?” Petyr put his arm around her. “What if it is truth he wants, and justice for his murdered lady?” He smiled. “I know Lord Nestor, sweetling. Do you imagine I’d ever let him harm my daughter?” I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter and Lady Catelyn’s, the blood of Winterfell. She did not say it, though.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

Children of the mountain.

And remember that Winterfell could mean wintry mountain(s)? Well, this possibility makes me think about one of my favorite Sansa and Jon parallels. They are the only Stark children that are called children of the mountain:

Soon they were high enough so that looking down was best not considered. There was nothing below but yawning blackness, nothing above but moon and stars. “The mountain is your mother,” Stonesnake had told him during an easier climb a few days past. “Cling to her, press your face up against her teats, and she won’t drop you.” Jon had made a joke of it, saying how he’d always wondered who his mother was, but never thought to find her in the Frostfangs. It did not seem nearly so amusing now. One step and then another, he thought, clinging tight.

—A Clash of Kings - Jon VI

“You’re mistaken. I never fall.” Mya’s hair had tumbled across her cheek, hiding one eye. “Almost, I said. I saw you. Weren’t you afraid? “Mya shook her head. "I remember a man throwing me in the air when I was very little. He stands as tall as the sky, and he throws me up so high it feels as though I’m flying. We’re both laughing, laughing so much that I can hardly catch a breath, and finally I laugh so hard I wet myself, but that only makes him laugh the louder. I was never afraid when he was throwing me. I knew that he would always be there to catch me.” She pushed her hair back. “Then one day he wasn’t. Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain’s daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won’t fall.” She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. “Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

In both cases, Sansa and Jon are under the guise of bastards (Jon was under the guise of a bastard since he was born). In both cases we are talking about snowy mountains, the Frostfangs and the Eyrie with the winter upon them, that is to say: “wintry mountains”. So I think in both quotes those mountains are a symbol of Sansa and Jon’s true parentage: in Jon’s case, Stonesnake said that the mountain is Jon’s mother (Lyanna Stark) and in Sansa’s case, Mya Stone said that the mountain is Alayne’s father (Ned Stark). And those mountains will never drop or let their children fall. Those mountains are a symbol of Winterfell. Sansa and Jon are the children of the wintry mountains of the north (Winterfell), the blood of Winterfell, the two pillars on which Winterfell stands.

Hot springs.

Both Jon and Sansa think of the hot springs of Winterfell while while bathing in hot water:

The hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. She had not washed since the day her father died, and she was startled at how filthy the water became. Her maids sluiced the blood off her face, scrubbed the dirt from her back, washed her hair and brushed it out until it sprang back in thick auburn curls. Sansa did not speak to them, except to give them commands; they were Lannister servants, not her own, and she did not trust them.

— A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

It was short walk to the bathhouse, where he took a cold plunge to wash the sweat off and soaked in a hot stone tub. The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell’s muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Very interesting similarity between the filthy water of Sansa’s bath and the muddy pools of Winterfell that Jon was reminiscing.

Ghost and Lady’s Shade.

Not only do Jon and Sansa seem to be made complementary to each other, it happens the same with their direwolves.

Ghost stands out among the other direwolves, not only for his white fur, but for his red eyes, similar to the most especial Children of the Forest:

—A Dance with Dragons - Bran III

This description: red eyes, not robust frame and quick few years upon the earth, is similar to the first description we had of Ghost:

"He must have crawled away from the others," Jon said. "Or been driven away," their father said, looking at the sixth pup. His fur was white, where the rest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man who had died that morning. Bran thought it curious that this pup alone would have opened his eyes while the others were still blind. "An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others." Jon Snow gave his father's ward a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy," he said. "This one belongs to me."

—A Game of Thrones - Bran I

But despite this preliminary description as the “runt of the litter,” Ghost grew up to be larger than his litter mates:

Nymeria stalked closer on wary feet. Ghost, already larger than his litter mates, smelled her, gave her ear a careful nip, and settled back down.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

Lady was the smallest of the litter and sadly the first to die:

“Lady,” he said, tasting the name. […] She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

This is a very interesting contrast between Ghost and Lady, as if their places were switched.

Sansa lost her wolf and Ghost lost his master, leaving these two Stark children somehow incomplete. But there is hope that both can fill in the missing part of the other.

Then Lady becomes a “shade” that is a synonym of “ghost.” The same way that Sansa becomes a “Stone” that is a bastard surname like “Snow.”

And Jon will probably come back to life more beast than man, more savage, in contrast to ladylike/queenly Sansa.

Jon dreamed of a ghastly direwolf wandering around the Crypts of Winterfell, that seems to be Lady’s Shade:

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

In a similar way, the wind howling fiercely around Sansa while she descended from the Eyrie to the Gates of the Moon, reminds her of a ghost wolf, big as mountains. This passage could be interpreted as Sansa sensing Jon’s death at the Wall:

"Ser Sweetrobin,” Lord Robert said, and Alayne knew that she dare not wait for Mya to return. She helped the boy dismount, and hand in hand they walked out onto the bare stone saddle, their cloaks snapping and flapping behind them. All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Take note of the similar wording between the “ghastly direwolf” and the “ghost wolf”. GRRM uses this resource (same or similar wording) a lot when he wants to establish a correlation or parallel.

Stark and Snow

Lady’s bones being buried at Winterfell makes Sansa the Stark in Winterfell. In the same way that Jon is the Snow of Winterfell:

The singer rose to his feet. "I'm Mance Rayder," he said as he put aside the lute. "And you are Ned Stark's bastard, the Snow of Winterfell."

—A Storm of Swords - Jon I

And both have the possibility to become the head of their house and the monarchs of the north.

Despite not being Ned Stark’s bastard and having a secret parentage, “Snow” is part of Jon’s identity, the same way the snow cloaks Winterfell’s walls. And as to reaffirm Jon’s identity, the old gods sent him a direwolf as white as snow.

Jon and Ghost were separated for a time, when the Wall stood between them. During that time Jon even questioned being a warg, because he felt he lost his wolf. It was also during that time that Jon was tempted with legitimation as a Stark and the Lordship of Winterfell. But when Jon reunites with Ghost he found his answer to Stannis’s offer precisely in the wolf.

Jon refused Winterfell in order to save the weirwood tree from the Lord of Light fires (Ghost is the weirwood tree) and protect Sansa’s claim to the castle (Sansa is Winterfell). This was the time when Jon said: i) Winterfell belongs to the old gods, ii) Ghost belongs to the old gods; and, iii) Winterfell belongs to Sansa.

But at the beginning of the story, in the first chapter of the first Book (A Game of Thrones - Bran I), after saving the life of the direwolves (In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm), Jon said a similar line:

—A Game of Thrones - Bran

And we have our sequence completed!

Ghost belongs to Jon

"An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others." Jon Snow gave his father's ward a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy," he said. "This one belongs to me."

—A Game of Thrones - Bran

Winterfell belongs to the old gods

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Ghost belongs to the old gods

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Winterfell belongs to Sansa

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

Just as the weirwood tree is the heart of Winterfell, it seems that all these quotes are there to tell us that Jon is Sansa’s heart. Because, it almost seems as if the final line will be (has to be) “Jon belongs to Sansa.” But with the same logic, we can also said “Sansa belongs to Jon”. Hence the title of this long essay is i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart), one of my favorite poems by the genius e.e. cummings:

The end.

#Sansa Stark #Jon Snow #jonsa #Winterfell #Godswood #Weirwood #Heart Tree #Ghost #Lady #Lady's Shade

250 notes · View notes

cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years

Text

prompt fic

Prompt from @hilarychuff - pick one of your fave movies or tv shows and shamelessly force jonsa into the plot

I have *technically* done this twice already - once with my Supernatural AU we’ve got crosses on our eyes and once with my Secret Garden AU signs but really, can one ever get enough of shamelessly forcing jonsa into other media? No.

And since I’m not actually a big movie person (almost all my fave movies are from my childhood, like the Secret Garden or Howl’s Moving Castle or Labyrinth), I went with TV show for this drabble/ficlet. It was super fun to write, so thank you for the prompt!

.....

“He's staring at you.”

Sansa tries not to react, keeping her fingers on the fountain soda press, watching the cup fill up with Coke.

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” she sighs and finally looks at Jeyne, who's draped over the counter to whisper to her. “When did he get here?”

“He's been here for an hour,” Jeyne says, which startles her.

“Dickon's been here for an hour?” She absolutely had not seen Dickon today. The Crashdown isn't really that busy, a few tourists, a few locals, she thinks she would have seen him.

“Not Dickon,” Jeyne huffs. “Jon Snow.”

With that, she almost does drop the cup she's holding, but she manages to place it on Jeyne's tray instead. “One Cosmic Cola and an Abtuc-tea, table 2,” she gestures at the tray, which already had the tea ready.

“You're not even a little curious?” Jeyne doesn't take the tray and leave like she's supposed to. She's still bent half over the counter, sly smile on her face. “He's been like, staring at you. He's always staring at you.”

“Jon Snow is not staring at me,” she hisses, though she can't help when her eyes flick up to the table where Jon Snow has been sitting for the past hour with his friends (and sure enough, he's looking at her, though his eyes dart away the minute she looks up). “I barely even know him. I don't think I've ever talked to him.”

“Well,” Jeyne slides back and down onto her feet, straightening her apron, hands smoothing over the silver alien face, “that doesn't mean he's not staring at you. And I doubt he wants to talk.” She giggles and takes the tray over to table two – two men who must be tourists because Sansa has never seen them before. She's glad Jeyne has that table because the men had been fine when they came in, but over the past half hour, they've gotten progressively louder, like they're arguing about something.

When she hears Theon call out order up from the back, she sighs and takes her own tray and loads it with the Comet Chili and a Sigourney Weaver and she tries not to think about Jon Snow as she takes it over to another table of tourists, a man and a woman who she knows she can wrangle a great tip out of.

(She doesn't need to think about boys, she's had just about enough of them, thank you very much. Last year she'd briefly dated Joffrey and over the summer she'd gone on a few dates with Dickon Tarley that weren't terrible, but just so boring. Even his kisses were boring.)

“Have you ever seen an alien?” the male tourist asks, looking over her uniform (she wants to think he's eyeing the alien apron, but most men seem to use it as an excuse to stare at her legs under the short skirt. Why her parents picked this uniform, she'll never know).

She slips into her believer persona and bites her lip and looks around suspiciously before giving a shaky “no”.

“You have!” the woman falls for it immediately and Sansa makes a show of shifting from foot to foot. “You have to tell us!”

“I don't know anything,” Sansa hedges, drawing it out because playing with tourists always makes boring days at the diner more fun. She knows Jeyne is likely watching, too.

“We aren't government,” the guy reassures and she wants to laugh. No shit, she thinks. If they were undercover CIA or FBI or MIB like in those Will Smith movies, they'd be the best undercover agents ever. No respectable human would ever wear what this guy is wearing.

“Alright, but you can't tell anyone,” she breathes, eyes going wide like she's sharing her deepest, darkest secret. Then she slips her hand into her apron and pulls out a photo and hands it to the tourists. “My grandmother took this photo of the crash site before the government cleaned it up.” She lets them stare at it in awe and they don't notice as Jeyne passes by with an exaggerated eye roll. “Don't tell anyone,” she whispers and takes the photo back and leaves the table, suppressing a smile when she can hear them furiously discussing the photo behind her.

When she's near the back at the refill station, she begins to shove more straws into her apron so she always has one handy when someone inevitably asks for another because they have magically lost theirs. Jeyne comes by to grab a pot of coffee and lowly sing-songs “he's staring at you again!” before heading back out. Sure enough, when Sansa looks up, Jon is just looking away from her and she feels something twist low in her belly that she tries to ignore.

She's technically still dating Dickon and sure, he's boring, but he's nice enough and has done nothing to offend her and-

Shouting snaps her out of her thoughts and she looks up just in time to see the two men who had been arguing stand up from their table. Their shouts are louder now, a full fight, and she watches in what seems like slow motion as one of them pulls a gun out of his jacket. She distantly hears screams and all she can think is good, Jeyne has ducked down, that's safe before there's a sharp crack and it feels like someone has punched her in the stomach.

“Sansa!” she thinks it's Jeyne calling her name and she should respond, but she can't seem to.

“Call an ambulance,” a voice she doesn't recognize is saying and then suddenly there's a dark figure over her and she realizes she's laying on the floor. How did she get there? “Sansa,” the voice says and she can't quite focus on the person kneeling over her, but she thinks it's a him. He does something, his hands moving near her stomach, something jostles her body, but she feels sort of numb and so she can't tell what's happening. She turns her head a bit and Jeyne is on the phone, looking paler than Sansa has ever seen.

“Look at me,” the voice says and then a hand is on her face, turning her head away from Jeyne. She blinks to try and clear her vision and the blurry shape turns into Jon Snow. A very worried looking Jon Snow. “Sansa, you have to look at me, ok?”

She does, she keeps her eyes on his because she can't seem to not and then his hand moves down and she feels a vague pressure on her stomach and then the diner is suddenly gone and she's in the desert and she's walking and she's so tired and she's scared and hungry and naked and alone. Then she's in a trailer with a large man who smells like alcohol and cigarettes and he's yelling and throwing things and she's still scared and alone. Then she's at school, but not the high school, the elementary school and she's watching herself play tag with Jeyne and Beth on the playground in that horrible dress Aunt Lysa had bought her and mom had made her wear because it was polite. She hated that dress, but watching herself now, she doesn't hate it. She thinks it's cute.

Suddenly she's back in the diner and Jon Snow is leaning over her and he sits back and she doesn't feel numb anymore. She props herself up on her elbows and notices two things at once – one, Jon's hands are shaking and covered in what appears to be blood, and two, her uniform is unbuttoned and open down to her apron.

She watches Jon look around and grab a ketchup bottle that he smashes against the floor and then he dumps the rest of the bottle onto her. “You broke the bottle,” he says like he's trying to keep his voice steady. “When the gun when off, you tripped and fell and broke the bottle and spilled it on yourself.”

She nods dumbly, and he gets up and when she looks past him, she can see his friend Aegon standing by the door gesturing wildly for Jon and they both head out of the diner and get into a Jeep that she can see Rhaenys is driving and it speeds away the minute they're all in.

“God, Sansa, are you ok?” Jeyne sobs as Sansa stands. “I thought you got shot!”

Sansa holds her uniform together with shaking hands and tries as best she can to button it up.

There's chaos in the diner until Sheriff Tarly arrives and she answers his questions as best she can. The men were arguing, no she doesn't know who they were, they must have been tourists. They were fighting and one pulled a gun and it accidentally went off. She got scared and she tripped and she broke the ketchup bottle she'd been holding. Yes, she's ok. No, she doesn't need medical attention. (The whole time Jeyne stares at her, but she doesn't say anything with the Sheriff around.)

Her parents arrive and send her home to get cleaned up as they handle everything and when she's in the bathroom, she pulls off her uniform and holds it up and finds the small bullet hole in the fabric and she manages not to cry until she's in the shower under the hot water. She calms down by the time she's done and she steps out and puts her hair up in a towel and instead of grabbing a second, she goes to the mirror and wipes the condensation off because she needs to make sure there's no bullet hole in her stomach like there should be. And there's not.

Instead of a bullet hole, there's a large silver handprint spanning her stomach, right where Jon Snow had touched her.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #jonsaff #roswell au #because why not #mostly because i feel like buffy has already been done #although i did almost choose twin peaks #prompt

100 notes · View notes

turtle-paced · 5 years

Text

Appreciation Post: Arya Stark

Arya’s stitches were crooked again.

Right away we see the problem: Arya Stark is not cut out for the life that her society, family included, tells her that she must live. Arya is eight and this is already apparent. Audience sympathy is quickly and firmly with this scrappy, curious, gregarious little girl who doesn’t want to abide by the sexist, classist rules of her society, which tell her what she should dress like, what she should be good at, and who she should be friends with.

The seriousness - and the potential consequences- of Arya’s disregard for these particular social mores is established at the infamous Incident at Darry. Arya made friends with the butcher’s boy Mycah, and sneaks off to play with him. These games are rougher than what is deemed acceptable for noble girls. When Joffrey discovers them and tries to bully Mycah with a drawn sword, Arya intervenes in her friend’s defence.

Though Arya’s sense of social justice was already apparent -

"The woman is important too!" Arya protested.

- Arya I, AGoT

- her attempted defence of Mycah and humiliation of Joffrey starts a thread that continues throughout her storyline all series. Arya believes in justice. Her immediate short-term discovery that the people who she loves and trusts don’t share her beliefs with her urgency, to the cost of her friend, is a hard one for her to cope with. Getting some direction for this and a means to channel her energies is what helps her manage best.

"Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm.”

- Arya II, AGoT

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon."

Arya screwed up her face.

"No," she said, "that's Sansa." She folded up her right leg and resumed her balancing.

- Eddard V, AGoT

As we can see here, Arya’s relationship with her father is positive and loving, but that does not negate the fact that he’s the source of some of the social pressure to adhere to a certain model of femininity that Arya struggles with.

Thanks to Syrio Forel and a well-learned lesson about seeing the things that are really there, Arya escapes the massacre of the Stark household, and promptly learns that things are a bit different when she’s not the daughter of one of Westeros’ most powerful lords. Despite this, and despite the trauma of witnessing her father’s murder and accidentally killing a stableboy in her escape, she continues on. The scattering of her family drives her to find her own, and to stick with her friends. Or even just the people she’s with. Some of Arya’s best is on display when the Watch recruits are attacked, as Arya refuses to leave a child refugee behind or leave dangerous criminals to burn alive.

Going back into that barn was the hardest thing she ever did.

- Arya IV, ACoK

But she does it anyway, her sense of justice and compassion applying even to people as lovely as the three in the cage.

This does, however, mark the start of a more intense exposure to violence. Brought to Harrenhal, she gets to see Harrenhal, witnessing horrors large and small, and suffering some herself too. She’s our on the ground viewpoint for the suffering of the common people in the Riverlands. As is to be expected, this affect her. One of the more obvious effects is how Arya develops a list of people she hates.

Every night Arya would say their names. "Ser Gregor," she'd whisper to her stone pillow. "Dunsen, Polliver, Chiswyck, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Amory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei." Back in Winterfell, Arya had prayed with her mother in the sept and with her father in the godswood, but there were no gods on the road to Harrenhal, and her names were the only prayer she cared to remember.

- Arya VI, ACoK

The assassin known as Jaqen H’ghar, in repayment for Arya saving his life, offers her three deaths. Even in this awful situation in Harrenhal, Arya retains a scrap of agency. What she does with those deaths is revealing - she orders the death of Chiswyck, who told a gruesome and graphic story of a gang rape he participated in as though it were a joke; she orders the death of her immediate supervisor Weese, a petty tyrant of the Harrenhal kitchens; and she orders the death of Jaqen H’ghar himself.

That last, Arya does to escape Harrenhal, still trying to get back to her family. Jaqen gives her a coin. Arya kills a guard herself to escape, deliberately and in cold blood.

Arya spends a good chunk of ASoS in the company of the Brotherhood Without Banners, who at the time are at trying to do their best for the smallfolk in the war, with good intentions and mixed, morally ambiguous results. When Sandor Clegane arrives, fleeing from the Blackwater, and Arya gets a chance to press the charge she never got to in AGoT:

Arya squirted past Greenbeard so fast he never saw her. "You are a murderer!" she screamed. "You killed Mycah, don't say you never did. You murdered him!"

The Hound stared at her with no flicker of recognition. "And who was this Mycah, boy?"

"I'm not a boy! But Mycah was. He was a butcher's boy and you killed him. Jory said you cut him near in half, and he never even had a sword."

- Arya VI, ASoS

The trial does not work out, and Arya refuses to accept the verdict. She’s promptly captured by Sandor himself.

Over the course of ASoS in particular, it’s clear that the narrative does not regard Arya’s ability to kill as ‘cool’ or ‘badass’. It is instead depicted as trauma. With Ned Dayne, for instance:

"I never learned the lance, but I could beat you with a sword," said Arya. "Have you killed anyone?"

That seemed to startle him. "I'm only twelve."

I killed a boy when I was eight, Arya almost said, but she thought she'd better not.

- Arya VIII, ASoS

It’s not a competition, but an observation that there’s something horribly wrong with this child asking whether other children have killed. Ned’s reply that he’s only twelve represents the norm.

And there was one girl who took to following her, the village elder's daughter. She was of an age with Arya, but just a child; she cried if she skinned a knee, and carried a stupid cloth doll with her everywhere she went. The doll was made up to look like a man-at-arms, sort of, so the girl called him Ser Soldier and bragged how he kept her safe. "Go away," Arya told her half a hundred times. "Just leave me be." She wouldn't, though, so finally Arya took the doll away from her, ripped it open, and pulled the rag stuffing out of its belly with a finger. "Now he really looks like a soldier!" she said, before she threw the doll in a brook. After that the girl stopped pestering her, and Arya spent her days grooming Craven and Stranger or walking in the woods.

- Arya XII, ASoS

That passage follows the Red Wedding, an even more traumatic event for Arya. After a book and a half of trying to get back to her mother and Robb, she’s present outside the event at which they’re murdered, never seeing them, unable to do anything to help them. This leaves Arya adrift.

Where would she go? Winterfell was gone. Her grandfather's brother was at Riverrun, but he didn't know her, no more than she knew him. Maybe Lady Smallwood would take her in at Acorn Hall, but maybe she wouldn't. Besides, Arya wasn't even sure she could find Acorn Hall again. Sometimes she thought she might go back to Sharna's inn, if the floods hadn't washed it away. She could stay with Hot Pie, or maybe Lord Beric would find her there. Anguy would teach her to use a bow, and she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs.

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. Hot Pie and Gendry had left her just as soon as they could, and Lord Beric and the outlaws only wanted to ransom her, just like the Hound. None of them wanted her around. They were never my pack, not even Hot Pie and Gendry. I was stupid to think so, just a stupid little girl, and no wolf at all.

- Arya XII, ASoS

So we see the extent to which Arya needs family and community to help shore up her identity. This is exactly what makes her AFFC storyline with the Faceless Men possible. Not long after this passage, she leaves Sandor Clegane when he sickens from an infected wound. He might have killed Mycah, but he also helped Arya, and on balance Arya finds herself unable to kill him.

Arya goes to the Faceless Men, per Jaqen’s recommendation, because she feels she has nowhere else to go. What they offer Arya has powerful appeal for her after all that she’s suffered, and costs a lot, too. The House of Black and White will take her in and give her a purpose, if Arya sacrifices her entire identity.

Arya cannot do it.

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me "little sister," she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

Polliver had stolen the sword from her when the Mountain's men took her captive, but when she and the Hound walked into the inn at the crossroads, there it was. The gods wanted me to have it. Not the Seven, nor Him of Many Faces, but her father's gods, the old gods of the north. The Many-Faced God can have the rest, she thought, but he can't have this.

- Arya II, AFFC

She cannot even truly give up being Arya Stark when she’s enjoying being Cat of the Canals. The very name is a hint that Arya’s identity is not subsumed - Cat - but she cannot get rid of the wolf dreams. (As demonstrated in Bran and Jon’s PoVs, Arya’s a skinchanger. We have direct evidence that she’s a very powerful skinchanger, maintaining her bond with her wolf across an ocean and later skinchanging into a cat as well.) Eventually, it’s Arya’s sense of what is right that brings her back - via murder, but it brings her back.

Arya killing the Night’s Watch deserter Dareon was the result of what Arya of House Stark learned about right and wrong. Part of the identity that the Faceless Men want Arya to shed are those very beliefs.

Arya drew back from him. "He killed the slave?" That did not sound right. "He should have killed the masters!"

- Arya II, AFFC

When she is ordered to kill someone, she starts by trying to convince herself they deserve it:

"He is an evil man," she announced that evening when she returned to the House of Black and White. "His lips are cruel, his eyes are mean, and he has a villain's beard."

The kindly man chuckled. "He is a man like any other, with light in him and darkness. It is not for you to judge him."

- The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD

Arya can and has killed, but she doesn’t do it without remorse, and we see that she’s struggling to do so for amoral reasons. Arya is angry and traumatised, but we see that she wants justice more than simple survival. That, and the importance she places on family and community, seem likely to me to be the way back from the brink. The girl who makes friends wherever she goes is going to have a part to play in the narrative, reminding others that for all the greater goods out there and in the future, the people here and now deserve justice and protection too.

#ASoIaF #valyrianscrolls #cw: violence #cw: rape #arya stark #a game of thrones #a clash of kings #a storm of swords #a feast for crows #a dance with dragons #another post not doing characters justice

264 notes · View notes

merakiaes · 5 years

Text

Tell Me You Love Me - Jon Snow

Pairing: Jon Snow x Baratheon!reader, Robb Stark x Baratheon!reader Requested: By @witch-of-letters, who has been really patient and understanding with me having writer’s block and being really slow. Shoutout to you

Prompts: None

Warnings/notes: Swearing, mentions of rape, violence, death, some changes in the timeline, really rushed because like I said I had the world’s biggest writer’s block, and I also have a migraine so I really didn’t have the energy to look through it and edit it. I really hope it’s readable, anyways.

Wordcount: 6457

Description: A bit of triangle drama between Jon, Robb and reader! I changed up the request a tiny bit so that it would fit the show better, hope that’s alright!

“I wonder if she’s gotten married, yet.” Theon voiced as he got his beard shaved off, thinking back to the last time he had seen you.

“No.” Robb answered. “Father would have told us if she did.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. King Robert would never marry her off to a stranger in the first place.” Theon agreed.

Robb turned to look at his half-brother, eyebrows raised. “You’ve been awfully quiet since the news of the King’s visit got out.”

Theon laughed. “And that was a week ago.”

Jon glared at them. “I’m not quiet.”

“You’ve spoken about ten words since last week.” Robb snickered. “Something on your mind?”

“More like someone.” Theon joined in on the teasing. “A certain princess, maybe?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jon kept his glare as he spoke.

Theon snorted. “Yeah, right. (Y/N) is the only girl you’ve ever met that you like better than your own hair.”

Jon hardened his glare. “I don’t like her.”

Robb laughed. “Don’t let her hear you say that, she’ll be heartbroken.”

Jon turned to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means want to fuck you, you virgin.” Theon said with a smirk, causing Robb to crack up.

“I’m not a virgin.” Jon scoffed. “I’ve been with women.”

Robb and Theon exchanged a look. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“I-” Jon cut himself short, not having an answer to the question considering he was, in fact, lying. As he opened his mouth to speak again, he once again cut himself short as a man came at his head with a pair of scissors, causing him to flinch.

This caused Theon and Robb to break into a full laughing fit, leaving the bastard hot up to his ears.

“What did I say?” Theon laughed. “You flinch when someone touches your hair, and you can’t answer our question. You make it so easy to prove a point.”

The three of them went into a full argument after that, having to be interrupted by Ned several minutes later because they were going to be late.

But the whole time up until the point of your arrival, Jon couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The North was cold, very cold.

Now, the cold itself wouldn’t have bothered you if you had clothing better fit for this kind of weather, but unfortunately you were for the time benig stuck in your warmest clothes from the South, which weren’t very warm at all.

You rode between your father and uncle, as you had been for the whole journey, and you were happy to say that said journey would soon be over, and you could finally reunite with your boys.

When Jon Arryn had, under “mysterious” circumstances, died, you had been heartbroken, having seen that man as a second father. However, when your father had told you the news about you going north, you had been absolutely ecstatic.

Not only would you get to see Ned, whom also was like a second father to you, but you would get to see your childhood friends, Theon, Robb and Jon. Although you had to admit you were slightly more excited about the last.

You had been in love with Jon Snow for as long as you could remember, but being in love with a bastard who thought lower of himself than any other person in the Seven Kingdoms, was no walk on roses.

Seeing as he didn’t think he deserved anything but the shit he was forced to take from Catelyn Stark on a daily basis, he always saw past any attempt of flirting you had made.

It had started to go on your nerves eventually, and honestly left you very heartbroken, but you still couldn’t find it in you to stop. You had never been forced to worry about being married to a stranger. Your father’s love for you stopped that from ever happening. He wanted you to marry for love, and he wouldn’t care in the slightest if that love turned out to be a bastard.

But Jon didn’t see it that way, you knew.

You were the only trueborn child of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister. It shouldn’t take a genius to figure out the fact that the rest of the King’s supposed children were, in fact, not his, but as it appeared every single person in the Seven Kingdoms were completely brainless.

But even though you supposed you should be disturbed by your mother and uncle’s incestuous relationship, you couldn’t be bothered. Not because you loved your mother, though, but because you loved your uncle.

Your mother was a stone-cold, psychopathic bitch. Always had been. The fact that you were not Jaime’s child had bothered her from the moment you were born, the disappointment had been as clear as day in her face once she noticed the hair on your head being pitch black.

The lack of love your mother held for you was no surprise to you, so Jaime had told you the story of your birth himself, knowing it wouldn’t do anything else than give you the truth.

Despite the fact that your mother and yourself had a strained relationship, you had gotten her traits of being cunning and smart. Jaime knew this, and therefor knew you wouldn’t stir chaos up without a very good reason, which in turn is why he knew he didn’t have to sugarcoat reality to you.

The rest of your personality you had gotten from your father, though. Your father was determined, stubborn, blunt and charismatic, or well, the latter he had been, anyways.

And you were all those things, only ten more times than him. And it was something your mother couldn’t stand being around.

But your uncle Jaime was different. He had done many horrible things in his life, yes. But his heart was in the right place. Everything he did, he did to protect Cersei and their cubs. And you knew he would realize sooner than later that Cersei wasn’t worth it.

Tyrion you got along with as well, of course, given the fact that he always seemed to be drawn to outcasts, and also that the two of you shared a love for books and wit.

Given that you were your father’s daughter, the two of you were close, as well. But you could still agree that he was a very immature man. Had he not spent majority of his spare time fucking whores and getting drunk, you could have been even closer.

But you had grown up now, and no longer craved as much attention from your King father as you once had. You did just fine on your own, as long as you had your bow or one of your uncles to keep you company.

You did love your siblings, of course. But considering the relationship you had with your mother, you didn’t really get to spend real time with them, much to Myrcella and Tommen’s dismay.

Joffrey, though, rather found pleasure in joining his mother in tormenting you. No surprise there.

“Seven Hells, I had forgotten how bloody cold it was up here.” Your father bellowed from beside you.

You rolled your eyes, tightening your grip on the reigns. “I told you that you should have put on the fox fur.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Your father grumbled, before sighing and reaching over to squeeze your hand. “I ought to listen to my daughter more often, don’t I?”

“Finally something we agree on.” Your uncle spoke up at that, giving your father a teasing smile, but his eyes still hinted annoyance.

Your father ignored him, opening his mouth to say something but as it seemed he changed his mind as Winterfell came into sight. “Finally! One more hour in this saddle and I would’ve lost feeling in my arse!”

You snorted. “I’m surprised you haven’t yet.”

Your father turned to look at you. “Watch that mouth of yours.”

But as you could see the teasing glint in his eye, you only scoffed, proceeding to straighten yourself up in your saddle as you would soon be entering the gates.

Jaime fell behind slightly to take his assigned spot in line, while you stayed at the front beside your father, and in only a few minutes time, you found yourself riding through the gates to your second home.

As you spotted the small crowd waiting for you inside the walls, your eyes instantly went to Robb, Jon and Theon, your face lighting up almost instantly at the sight of them.

They had certainly grown up since you last saw them, that much you were sure of.

But Jon had grown up the best. His black locks were still as gorgeous as ever, his eyes still as dark and soft. You weren’t a girl who used cliches, but even you couldn’t deny the butterflies filling you stomach at the sight of the bastard.

Jon, who had been looking at the ground by order of Lady Catelyn to show respect, felt your heavy gaze and looked up to be faced with your bright smile.

Upon seeing you, Jon felt himself get warm. Not until then did he realize how much he had truly missed you.

Theon let out a small whistle as they watched you climb down from your horse, giving you a once over as you walked to your father’s side as he greeted Ned. “(Y/N) grew up quite nicely, don’t you think, Snow?”

Although Jon couldn’t disagree, he shot his friend a look. “She was already grown up when we saw her last. She’s three years older than us.”

Theon wiggled his eyebrows. “An older woman who wants to fuck you.”

Jon turned to look at him, a glare on his face. “She does not want to fuck m-”

“Can you two shut up?” Robb suddenly turned around and whisper-yelled, just as you reached him.

Robb turned back instantly, taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his lips. “Princess, you look as gorgeous as always.” He said, putting on a smile as if trying to hide the conversation that had moments before been going on behind him.

You only snickered. “We’ve known each other since we were all mere children, come here.” And with that you pulled him down by his neck in an embrace.

You felt him chuckle unto your neck, but your happy little reunion was cut short when your brother scoffed behind you. “(Y/N)” He started, a scowl evident on his face. “That is in no way how a princess should act.”

Your father had gone off with Ned at this point, and your mother and siblings were Gods knew where, leaving only you, Robb, Jon, Theon, Joffrey and Sandor Clegane in the courtyard.

You rolled your eyes at the sound of your whiny brother’s voice, releasing Robb from your grasp, the latter clearing his throat as he glanced at the Hound.

Turning around, you stared your brother down. “Unlike you, Joffrey, the Starks are my family and I won’t treat them like they are below me, I’ll leave that bitchy behavior to my dear little brother. You do it best, after all, isn’t that right?”

Joffrey gasped dramatically, hitting his guard dog’s on his arm as if to tell him to go after you. “Did you hear how she just spoke to me? Do something!”

You rolled your eyes, something you seemed to be doing all the time when in the presence of your family. “You do know he’s not only serving you, but the rest of your family as well?”

Joffrey narrowed hie eyes. “He’s MY dog, and he shall do as I command.” He said in a whiny voice, turning to look at the Hound at the last part.

You took a few steps closer to your brother. “Are you ever going to get it into your tiny little brain that he’s not an actual dog? Even dogs are only loyal to their masters until they feel threatened, maybe you should start watching your mouth a little before this one starts to feel that way.”

Cue another dramatic gasp. “I’m telling mother!”

You chuckled. “You go do that, Joff. I’ll just tell father you tried sending the Hound on his beloved daughter.” With that you turned to look at the much larger man beside your brother. “Sandor.”

“Princess.” Sandor acknowledged, face straight, although you could see in his eyes he was just as satisfied with Joffrey’s reaction as yourself.

You gave a curt nod, before starting to walk off, the three northerner boys wasting no time in following.

Once far enough away to be able to have a conversation without your brother’s snooping ears, you wasted no time in jumping at the three boys.

The boys each let out a quiet “hmpf” at the force of you taking them all into your arms at the same time in a rather messy group hug.

“Eager are we?” Theon chuckled as he let his hand rest on the small of your back. He made attempt to move it further down, but you instantly slapped it away.

“I see you, Greyjoy, don’t try me.” You threatened playfully, earning a chuckle in return.

“Robb, last time I saw you you were just as tall as me.” You snickered at the memory as you turned to look at the Stark boy. Probably to everyone’s surprise, he had been a slow grower.

Robb laughed as you brought him into another hug, this time without Joffrey there to interrupt.

Finally, you turned to Jon.

He had put himself slightly behind the other two boys to not interrupt. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his eyes were softly staring into yours.

As if your smile wasn’t already big enough, it got even bigger at the sight of the curly haired boy, and you wasted no time in jumping in his arms.

Jon closed his eyes and sighed in contentment as the sweet scent of your hair filled his nostrils and took over his senses, letting his arms go around your waist to hug you back.

“I can’t even begin to explain how much I’ve missed you.” You told the boys while still in Jon’s arms, but you all knew you were in truth talking to Jon and Jon only.

Well, everyone except the boy himself, being as oblivious as he was.

“What.” Theon spoke, the teasing tone evident in his voice. “You don’t enjoy spending quality time with your baby brother?”

The boys all snickered as you finally let go of Jon, much to his dismay, turning to look at Robb and Theon with a roll of your eyes. “Any more quality time, and I might just have thrown myself from a window.”

“What about the Hound?” Robb questioned, wiggling his eyebrows. “You looked to be pretty cozy with the Hound.”

“Sandor may be a man of few words, but he’s an actual sweetheart.” You responded, snickering. “Don’t let him know I said that, though. He’ll never speak to me again.”

Theon shuddered. “I don’t know how anyone could handle being in his presence all day long without shitting their pants, much less talk to him.”

You raised an eyebrow, eyes moving to look at his lower half. “Are you telling me you shit your pants just now, then?”

Theon glared. “No, not me. I don’t shit my pants for anything, or anyone.” He paused. “But IF I did, it would be because of him.”

“So you did shit your pants.” You repeated, smirking.

Theon started protesting, but as Jon and Robb had had enough of your bickering, Robb cleared his throat. “We have something to show you, (Y/N), don’t we lads?” He turned to his brothers with a wolfish grin.

“Oh!” Theon realized. “Yes, Robb and Snow got d-”

Jon slapped him upside the head. “You’re ruining it.”

Theon rubbed his head, swinging for Jon, however missing when the latter ducked out of the way with a laugh.

“Fine, fine.” Theon said finally, pulling out a cloth from his pocket. “You’ll have to put this on.” He said, holding it up like a blindfold.

You squinted your eyes at this, becoming slightly suspicious. “Why exactly?”

“Because it’s a surprise.” Robb laughed as he came to stand at your side, now having grabbed the cloth from Theon’s hand to put it over your eyes.

“If this is your way of inviting me to a foursome, I’m very afraid I must decline.” You said in a mock-serious voice, causing them all to laugh.

“As if I’d let you anywhere near Theon’s bed.” Jon said, grabbing onto one of your arms as you were blinded by the fabric in front of your eyes.

Theon snickered, and you could just imagine the smirk he must have been sporting. “No, you’d want her all to yourself, wouldn’t you Snow?”

You snickered as Jon hissed a ‘shut up!’, and suddenly you started moving, Jon pulling at you gently.

Your heart started beating harder in your chest as you felt around with your feet carefully to not fall. Jon seemed to pick up on this, chuckling. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let you fall.”

Laughing nervously, your hand came to rest on top of his that were holding your arm for support. “I trust you, Jon. It’s your brothers I don’t trust.”

Awaiting some kind of sarcastic response from either Robb or Theon, you were surprised to hear nothing but Jon’s chuckle from beside you, to which you furrowed your eyebrows in thought.

“Did they go ahead?” You though out loud, using the hand that weren’t holding on to Jon to feel the air in front of you. You trusted Jon not to let you fall, but now that Robb and Theon had seemingly run off, it was your own feet you didn’t trust.

“Yes.” He responded. “They had to go see so that the surprise hadn’t completely ruined my chambers.” He laughed, causing you to furrow your eyebrows even further.

What kind of surprise would destroy furniture?

“We’re coming up the stairs now.” Jon said, assisting you in getting your foot on the first step. “No peeking.”

You snorted. “Unlike Theon, I’m not a peeker.” You joked, thinking back to the time you had found the boy in question peeking into the whorehouse when he was thirteen.

“It’s a good thing he’s old enough to actually go in there now instead of peeking through the windows like a mad man.” Jon laughed, causing you to follow.

“Is it, though?”

“Maybe not.” He agreed, causing you to smile.

As you reached the last step of the stairs, you let your hand trail against the wall as you kept walking. “How far are we going? I’m not liking this whole blind thing.”

As soon as you said that, the sound of Robb and Theon’s voices entered your eardrums, giving you the sign that you had finally reached your final destination.

“No more.” Jon said, confirming your thoughts. “Watch out.” He spoke quietly as the voices got closer, helping you through the doorway of his chambers where Theon and Robb had suddenly grown quiet.

“Are you ready?” You heard Robb ask from somewhere across the room.

You nodded, eyebrows furrowed as you thought about what the surprise could be. “Get on with it.”

Jon snickered from behind you as he undid the blindfold, amused at your impatience. You were truly your father’s daughter.

As the fabric was removed from your eyes, it took a few second to adjust to the light as you had been in the dark for several minutes, but once they had adjusted, you let out a high squeal at the sight in front of you.

On the bed in front of you were two small direwolf pups, lying next to each other, seemingly taking a nap, something you couldn’t care less of in this moment as you launched yourself forward to jump on the bed.

“Puppies!” You let out in a high pitched voice, causing the direwolves to jump awake in fright.

Although, to the boys’ surprise, they calmed down just as quickly and instantly started licking your face wet with kisses, whereas they would have growled and barked had it been Theon in your position.

“Why do they like her more?” Theon spoke, watching sourly as you fell down into the bed.

“You smell.” Jon commented as he came to stand at his side to watch the scene unfold with them.

Theon turned to look at him with a glare. “We just washed ourselves, together. If I smell, you smell.”

You laughed. “You make it sound like you washed each other, Greyjoy.”

He turned to look at you, dropping his glare and putting on a smirk. “Jonny boy is saving himself for y-”

Jon slapped him on the arm, glaring. Robb just stood by laughing at his brothers as he kept watching you, arms crossed.

“Where did you find them?” You gushed finally as they left the bed to take Jon and Robb’s sides, wasting no time in following the white one to Jon and getting down cross-legged on the floor to take him into your lap.

“We found her mother in the woods.” Robb started.

“Killed by a stag’s antler, tough old beast.” Theon continued.

You looked at the direwolf in your knee sadly. “What are their names?”

“That’s Grey Wind.” Jon pointed to the pup at Robb’s feet, before looking down at the white one in your arms. “And that’s Ghost. He’s mine.”

“The runt of the litter.” Theon snickered.

“Arya, Sansa, Bran and Rickon each has one as well.” Robb told you. “Nymeria, Lady, Shaggydog, and Bran hasn’t named his yet.”

You smiled brightly, talking sweet nothings as you scratched Ghost behind his ear.

Jon chuckled at the sight. “You might want to stop sweeting him up, he won’t know how to protect himself when the time comes.”

You pouted. “Fine.” You stood up.

The window of the room whistled loudly as a breeze blew past. Looking outside, you noticed it now having gone dark.

You turned back to the boys. “Which one of you are going to escort me to the feast?” You smirked. “Your princess is starting to feel rather starved after traveling for so long.”

Theon hurried to step forward, holding out his arm. “My lady.” He bowed deeply, coming back up with a grin on his face.

You laughed, curtsying before hooking your arm with his. “My lord.”

And with that, he led you off to the feast. Jon furrowed his eyebrows at seeing you laugh with Theon, Robb giving him a knowing, teasing look, earning a glare in response, as they walked after you.

You had feasts in the Capital all the time, but this was as much fun as you’d have in a long time, finally having enjoyable company.

“Look at your daughter.” Cersei scoffed at the head table, scowling bitterly. “Acting like a man, throwing herself around at all those boys. Disgrace.”

“Shut your mouth, woman!” Robert bellowed, stopping in his tracks of groping one of the servant girls, at his wife’s words. He turned to look at her. “She can do as she pleases. You worry about raising that little brat.”

She clenched her fists as she looked at him, turning back to look at you dancing around with Robb and Theon, Jon long ago having left at the request of Catelyn.

Cersei then turned to look at her brother, only to find him watching you play around with a grin, amusement clear in his eyes.

She scoffed again. “Tell me again why we’re marrying her off to the Stark boy.” She asked no one in particular as she had Robert’s attention. “We could marry her off to someone much more valuable for the crown.”

“Do you think I care about the crown?” Robert boomed. “I’m not marrying her off to someone who will fuck her and have her birth children all life. Robb is the only one I would even consider as a husband.”

“If I may, Your Grace.” Ned spoke up for the first time, inviting himself into the conversation. “Robb thinks very highly of (Y/N), he would never attempt to stop her from practicing her interests.”

“Yes.” She muttered, leaning back into her seat. “That’s what I’m afraid of. She needs to learn how to act like a lady.”

“Fuck acting like a lady!” Robert once more shouted at his wife. “The betrothal between her and Robb is final!” And with that, he walked off with the servant, leaving Cersei to fume in her lonesome.

You had been dancing with Robb and Theon all night, until Robb had been forced to take Arya to bed. Only moments later, Theon had kissed you good night and left with a girl not much older than Sansa.

You had rolled your eyes at this, but not bothered to tell him off. Far to tired after the nights festivities.

Not wanting to be alone, you ventured outside to search for Jon, finding him out by the sparring grounds having a conversation with Tyrion.

“Uncle.” You greeted as you approached them, causing them both to turn your way.

“Ah, my sweet (Y/N), are you having fun?” Tyrion smiled up at you.

You smiled so. “Very much so, but now I’m afraid my company has betrayed me, and I’m in need of a new companion to entertain me for the rest of the evening.”

“I see.” Tyrion said. “I will leave you two to it, then. I will see you at breakfast tomorrow morning.”

You nodded at him, offering a smile, before he walked off into the castle, leaving you alone with Jon.

The two of you watched each other quietly for a moment, before you moved to sit down against a wall, pushing your cloak under your bottom so that you wouldn’t get cold.

You patted the space beside you, Jon coming to sit down only moments later.

“Why did you leave?” You asked as you pulled out a flagon of whine that you had managed to snatch from inside the hall from underneath your cloak, popping open the lid and taking a drink.

“Lady Stark didn’t wish for me to be in the King and Queen’s presence.” He said in a formal voice, something that led you to believe that Catelyn had talked to him about being around you, as well.

You frowned at this, holding the flagon out for him. “You could have just told me. I would have maken sure you got to stay.”

“I needed the fresh air, anyway.” He spoke, grabbing the flagon from your hand and taking a long gulp.

“Although I do enjoy the company of your brother and Theon, I have to admit I would have had more fun with you.” You admitted, leaning your head on his shoulder and looking up at you.

He turned his head slightly to be able to look down at you, a smile coming to rest at his lips. “Don’t let Theon hear you say that.”

You snickered, grabbing the flagon back from him and taking a sip. “Something tells me he knows of my feelings.”

“And what feelings would those be?” He asked softly, scanning your face as you watched each other carefully.

You searched your head for a sassy reply or remark of some kind, but you found none, getting utterly lost in his deep, dark eyes.

You parted your lips briefly, before closing them again. Your eyes traveled from his eyes to his nose to his lips, catching his Adam’s apple bobbling in the corner of your eye.

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and as he rubbed them together, before moving your eyes back to his, searching for any kind of hesitation.

And when finding none, you leaned your head up and pressed your lips to his.

Jon responded almost instantly, admittedly being frozen for a few seconds despite knowing your intentions from the start. But he quickly melted into the kiss, moving his lips to match the movements of your own.

The flagon of wine was long forgotten by now, crimson liquid spilling out into the the snow.

You reached up to put your arms around his neck, successfully dragging him with you to lie on the ground without ever breaking the kiss that was getting more feverish with every passing second.

You let your lips break away from his for a moment of breath, before quickly reattaching and this time letting the tips of your tongues meet.

The only thing on your mind was Jon, how his hands felt as they ran down your sides to squeeze at your hips, how his lips felt as they moved from your lips to your jaw, to your neck, to your collarbone.

Not in a million years would you have suspected the news that would be pushed upon you the morning after.

But as you woke up that morning in Jon’s bed and went to the Hall for breakfast, the news were thrust upon you none the less.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

You remembered the ceremony clearly, your father and mother and siblings, and all of the North watching as you were wed to one of your best friends. However, not the one you loved.

You had broken down in the middle of the room at the news of you betrothal to Robb, screaming and pleading to your father to let you marry Jon instead.

Your father had, much to everyone’s surprise and your mother’s dismay, agreed, but the boy in question had already heard the news from Robb and decided to go to the Wall with his uncle Benjen.

You had cried to him the whole night before his departure, about ready to get down on your knees to beg him to stay. It was the most heartbroken he, or anyone else for that matter, had ever seen you.

It eventually got so bad, you had to be carried to your chambers by your uncle Jaime, who proceeded to hold you the entire night until you finally managed to doze off from exhaustion, the last word Jon had spoken to you before you were taken away being “You deserve better.”

When you had awoken that morning you had been completely numb, and you hadn’t been able to leave the bed to see Jon off.

It had broken his heart, but he knew it was his own doing. He wanted so bad to stay with you, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you marry a bastard, and have bastard children. You deserved more than that. You were a princess after all.

Robert had come to bid him farewell. Although he was absolutely broken at the state of his daughter, and despite the fact that he saw Jon as a fine young man, he too, thought of him as too little for his sweet (Y/N).

Jon had rode off between Benjen and Tyrion early that morning, heart heavy and eyes stinging with tears.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his, and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

The wedding came sooner than you would have wished. Robb saw that you were unhappy, but despite this didn’t protest.

You would never get over Jon. You would never love Robb as you did his half-brother, but you were, truth be told, happy that it was Robb and not some random high-lord.

You had gone to war by Robb’s side when he had called the Stark’s bannermen to go up against the Lannisters. Your family. They weren’t really your family, any more, though.

Your father was dead, and Jaime was too love struck by your mother to be able to differ right from wrong. You only wished he realized it sooner than later, despite everything loving him dearly.

Robb had never forced you to get intimate with him, something you were more than grateful for. You knew that despite the fact that he hadn’t protested, he didn’t feel that way about you, either.

When the two of you met Talisa, you had your marriage annulled, allowing him to marry the true love of his life.

While they were off doing Gods know what during the evenings, you were stuck in your tent with Grey Wind watching over you, the direwolf having, dare you say it, grown closer to you than his own master.

But you didn’t complain. Animals had always been your preferred company.

Having made a promise to Walder Frey to marry one of his girls, he had been furious to hear the news that Robb had married Talisa instead of one of his girls once you had annulled your marriage.

But you came up with a solution, you thought, and were invited into his home for a marriage between Edmure Tully and one of Frey’s girls.

That’s where everything started going downhill. The only word you could use to describe your stay at the Frey’s was bloodbath. Massacre.

They called it the Red Wedding. Robb, Talisa and Catelyn had all been slain under the roof where they broke their bread and salt with the Freys.

You don’t know how you had managed to escape, but you were lucky you had.

You had ran until your lungs burned, desperate to make it back to your tent before the Freys did, luckily succeeding and managing to get Grey Wind and yourself out of there before they could get to you.

Ashamed that they had let a girl get away, Walder Frey had made up a graphic, bloody story about how they had slowly killed you and Grey Wind.

Jon had been unable to keep on is legs when hearing it, having to grab a hold of the table as his knees buckled out of shock, the letter in his hand dropping down to the floor.

He had screamed, yelled, broken everything in sight as anger and grief filled his entire body, his friends being forced to drag him away from the shelf he was currently hacking to bits with Longclaw.

This was a while ago. A lot had happened since. Jon had brought the wildlings to Castle Black only shortly before receiving the news about your death.

He had been stabbed to his death by his supposed brothers, and brought back to life by the Red Woman.

All the while you had been living in hiding, waiting for the right moment to return to any familiar place.

And once you’d heard of Jon snow being in command of a wildling army and Castle Black, you headed off without looking back.

You reached the Wall in a few weeks time.

Grey Wind was walking slowly by your side as you sat on your horse, loyal as ever. He hadn’t left your side once since the Red Wedding.

The men who where currently on watch duty in the tower spotted you through the snow, getting ready to call out to you. However, as they spotted the direwolf revealing itself from behind you, they knew in an instant that you were here for Jon, calling out to open the gate.

“Open the gate!” They called down to the courtyard.

You didn’t have to stop as the gate started rising only a second later, allowing you clear passage into the castle.

Everyone stopped and looked at you as you rode through, shock evident on their faces as they laid eyes on the giant beast at your side, Grey Wind now having grown to be almost as big as the very horse you were riding.

You looked around slowly, searching for the face you had come looking for, but finding it nowhere.

Without stopping your search, you stopped the horse in the middle of the clearing, climbing down from the saddle to stand on the ground.

A stable boy came over without any words said, taking the horse by the reigns and leading it off, leaving you to grab at Grey Wind’s fur as he growled quietly at the people around you in suspicion.

“Last time someone came to fetch me to see something down in the courtyard, I was stabbed repeatedly in the chest.” Jon grumbled as he walked alongside Edd, steps determined but annoyed as he had been busy when Edd had come rushing in to take him outside, speaking a bunch of gibberish that was quite hard to comprehend.

“Trust me.” He told his friend. “You’re going to want to see this.”

You held your head held high as you kept looking around, keeping your stare hard to show the people around you that you weren’t bothered by their stares in the slightest.

You had yet to see Jon, and you were just about to give up and ask someone of his whereabouts when suddenly your name was called.

“(Y/N)?” Your heart skipped a beat at the familiar voice, head whipping around to find the source so quickly you got dizzy.

“Jon.” You breathed as you caught sight of him on top of the stairs to the upper part of the castle, looking between you and Grey Wind in shock.

Neither you nor the people in the yard had any time to react as Jon flung himself down the stairs, several steps at a time, and launched himself towards you.

Your face broke into a watery smile as this seemed to trigger your own movements, running to meet him in the middle.

The two of you hit each other in an embrace so rough you probably would have complained about the pain in any other case, but as you for the first time in several years felt the warmth of your first and only love’s arms around you, the only thing you could think of was him.

The only thing on your mind it that moment, as you hugged each other close, was Jon. Just as it had been every day since the day you had first met.

“Tell me you love me, Jon Snow.” You breathed into his neck, tears now spilling down your cold cheeks. “Tell me you want me just as much as I’ve always wanted you.”

“I love you. You’re the only thing I want.”

And with that, you pulled your head away from his neck and pressed your lips to his just like you had done that one night in Winterfell.

Just like you had done on the best day of your life.

883 notes · View notes

coffeexwhiskey · 5 years

Text

Home in Winterfell (Chapter 3)

Winterfell

"You're here."

Sansa has never felt so happy in years. As she watched her sister hop down the horse, she couldn’t stop herself from running towards her and wrapped Arya in a loving hold. She smelled a hint of sun and salt but the lingering smell of Arya was still there; the scent of her younger sister she never knew she’d recognize.

After all they’ve been through, their relationship had changed tremendously. Before, they would fight over the smallest of things, seeing how the other was the exact opposite of the other girl. But now, differences were thrown away as they embrace everything they have in common; hardships and loss and the name of Stark.

“I’ve missed you,” Sansa whispered, still holding Arya in her arms.

“I’ve missed you too,” the Queen in the North could hear the tremble in her sister’s voice.

Sansa felt someone walk passed her, and noticed a hand pulling on Arya’s cloak. Looking down, bright blue eyes looked up to her, a grip still on Arya’s clothing. She addressed a questioning gaze towards Arya who looked surprised that there was a tug on her cloak and worried after seeing who it was and excited, all at the same time.

Arya took the little girl’s hand that was holding on to her, “In a minute Choti,” she whispered to the girl but loud enough for Sansa to hear. Arya eyed the woman who was standing a few feet away from them and took the girl from the two sisters.

Still baffled, Sansa followed the woman and the girl with her eyes.

“The Godswood,” she heard Arya say.

Castle Black

“Are we going to sit here until the sun rises again or should we start riding back to the Freefolk?” the annoyed voice of Tormund made Jon finally blink and look away from wall, now away from his thoughts. “You’ve been gawking at that fucking wall for almost an hour. Tell me, is there a beauty that you can see that I don’t? ” Tormund added.

Jon refilled his cup with more ale and finished it in one go making his head hurt more.

As he filled his cup again he said, “We’re going to Winterfell. We’re going to my sisters.”

And after finishing the jug of ale, Jon along with Tormund saddled up, with Ghost closely behind and headed towards home.

Storm’s End

“When are you leaving?”

Hot Pie dropped the dough he was kneading on the counter once seeing the Lord of Storm’s End standing in the entrance of his kitchen.

“I-In three days,” he stumbled, “You scared me there.”

“Sorry,” Gendy muttered, walking closely to the baker. “What are you making?”

“Pie crust. I’ve got the dough for the bread ready too. All I have to do is bake them right before I leave,” there’s that tone of pride Gendry always hears from his friend whenever he talks about his work.

Gendry eyed the dough lined up on the other side of the kitchen. It could feed an army once it’s ready.

“Are we having a feast I didn’t know about?” he asked inquiringly.

Hot Pie chuckled before placing the freshly kneaded dough along with the others, “It’s for Arry. She liked the wolf bread I made her, do you remember?”

Gendry remembered clearly. Arya even wondered what is was. He chuckled to himself.

“Yes I do,” he answered meekly.

“And when I saw her back when I still worked for the innkeeper, she liked the pie I made. I hope you don’t mind,” peering to the Lord carefully, Hot Pie had a guilty smile on his face. He forgot to ask the Lord of Storm’s End if he could use their supplies to feed the Northmen.

Gendry laughed it off, patting his friend on the back, “That’s alright. I’m sure it’ll make her happy.”

He was about to step out of the kitchens when Hot Pie said, “You always talk about making her happy.”

The words made him stop on his tracks, his back still facing Hot Pie.

“What do you know about making her happy?” the accusing tone in Hot Pie’s voice was not missed by Lord Gendry Baratheon.

“I know enough.”

He left the kitchens and stayed in his chambers for the rest of the day.

The Godswood of Winterfell

"It's still snowing," Arya commented as she looked around her.

"Yes. It's whatever’s left of the long winter."

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you.”

“You had your reasons,” the Queen smiled understandingly.

The two sisters walked in silence as they neared the Weirwood tree.

“The girl,” it was Sansa who spoke again first. She watched as her sister sat on the root of the giant tree, still covered with a thin layer of snow.

“Is my daughter,” Arya answered simply and looked up to her, a hint of smile showing on her face as she thought of the little girl.

“How?” The Queen was confused as more questions ran through her mind, her knitted brows and rising voice making it obvious. Who’s the father? When did she even lay with a man? How long has she kept this from her? Why did she hide this from her? Is she even capable of raising a child? As far as Sansa remembered, her sister was never ladylike. To even think that she slept with a man was a very big surprise for her. And by the looks of it, the little girl was conceived years ago.

“I think we both know how to make a babe, Sansa,” Arya grinned at her.

“I know that. What I meant was-“

“It happened before we fought the dead. I had no idea that I walked into battle in King’s Landing with a babe inside of me,” Arya cut her off. “I only knew about her when I was already sailing away from Westeros. We docked in a small island called Bharata and that’s where I gave birth to Charlotte.”

“Charlotte?” Sansa repeated. A curious name but nevertheless, it fondly reminded her of their mother, Catelyn.

Arya nodded, “The woman from Bharata who helped me said it was a miracle that we survived. She was small when she came so she named her Charlotte for I was asleep for days after giving birth to her. They thought I was not going to make it.”

Horror struck the Queen at the thought of losing another sibling, but she still listened to her sister in silence.

“That woman had been to so many places and mentioned that once she visited a place where the name Charlotte meant petite and free. So I thought it was perfect and didn’t change it,” Arya sighed and continued, “I’ve been travelling with a child the whole time and I’m grateful that the Northmen with me didn’t question my guidance despite having a big belly for some time,” she chuckled. “And they grew fond of her. Whenever we see land, we’d take her with us. She had seen so much yet she hasn’t been to the most important place for her mother.”

Arya discreetly wiped a tear that slowly rolled down her cheek, “I was scared, Sansa.” She rubbed her hands together to warm them. Looking up to her sister she said, “I thought I was brave, but I was scared. But then again, father once said that you are the bravest when you’re scared. Every single day as I carried that baby in me, I asked the Gods if I would be able to do this; if I am capable of being a mother. But then I thought of our own mother. How she was able to raise all of us. I thought of you, if it would have been easier if I had my sister with me. Or Jon. Or Bran. And everyday I thought of the day you’d meet her.”

Tears were also pooling in Sansa’s eyes, but she ignored them, “Then why didn’t you come home sooner?”

“Because I didn’t know what to do once I’m back. I wanted to. I wanted to come back but then I realized Westeros is not the same anymore. None of it! Whenever I think about it all I see are the ghosts of mother and father, Robb and Rickon. The dead crawling around and fire breathing dragons, burning people alive,” Arya sniffed and wiped more tears. “I didn’t want to be a Lady nor a Princess. I wanted to go and see what lies ahead and forget everything. I was still able to do that. I was able to get through my grief and fear.”

Arya stood up. Her voice firm, “If there is one thing I learned from all those years with Charlotte, it’s that a child can never hinder you from doing anything that will make you happy. She saved me....... Or whatever’s left of me.”

-----------------------------------------------

Chapter 1 (x)

Chapter 2 (x)

AO3

Well, I’ll leave this here for you to ponder.

Enjoy!

46 notes · View notes

suburbantimewaster · 5 years

Photo

Here’s the first illustration I received for a fanfic, this one being Mind Games set in the universe of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and the origin of Candy Marino and Chris Patel, who can also be found in Return of the Greek Gods. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the references right for Marino the first time but I did get them right for everyone else. Anyway, this is drawn by s2ka from Deviantart.

Marino gave all of her attention to Shere Khan, feeling the vibration of his purrs. All it took was one sneeze for him to get off. She still had time before her next shift to make one call, even if it was one she dreaded. Marino took a sip from her flask, enjoying the bubbly substance going down her throat, then finally entered her room on the right with another fan set up in the middle. She set her personal computer on the desk and opened it.

"Computer, connect to T’Mara on Vulcan, Priority One connection, authorization Marino-Alpha-6359-Rose," Marino ordered, taking a seat.

It wasn't long until a caramel face female Vulcan with her raven hair tied in a long braid appeared on Marino's screen.

"Ensign Marino, I was expecting your call," T'Mara said, noticing the flask in Marino's hand with a disapproving gaze.

"Don't worry, it's just synthehol," Marino explained as she put it on her desk.

"Acceptable," T'Mara said with a nod. "I suppose you have just finished making yourself at home on Deep Space Nine."

"Actually, I haven't even started," Marino admitted with a wave of her hand. "I got caught up reading this manuscript left by the previous owner."

"What was the content of this manuscript?" T'Mara asked with clear intrigue.

"It was about looking into the mind of a Cardassian who loved torturing any Bajoran he could get his hands on," Marino explained with a smile and tone equivalent to a five-year-old girl who just tried on her first princess dress. "Rebels, collaborators, civilians, you name it." Marino's smile faded and her tone grew more condescending. "Though it does talk a bit too much about Cardassian superiority over other species. Other than that, it was like reading something written by Ramsay Snow. Only thing missing was the sigil of a flayed man."

"Considering the character of Ramsay Snow, I would imagine that Roose Bolton would be more likely to write such a tale," T'Mara told her.

"No, Roose Bolton wouldn't be stupid enough to flay a collaborator. Remember what he told Ramsay?" Marino recalled and then adopted a serious stance. "'If you acquire a reputation as a mad dog, you'll be treated as a mad dog. Taken out back and slaughtered for pig feed.'"

"Logical," T'Mara acknowledged in a voice only a tiny bit away from being complete monotone. "Speaking of Game of Thrones, when we last talked, you described being assigned to Deep Space Nine as 'being sent to The Wall without having to take a vow of celibacy and no Jon Snow to make it bearable.' I am pleased to see that your opinion has changed."

"I'll say one thing," Marino said with a confident smile. "You never would've found anything like that manuscript on the Prometheus." Then she pointed to a suitcase with isolinear chips, one of them containing Game of Thrones. "Plus, I made sure to bring that gorgeous bastard with me."

"Ah yes, your last posting," T'Mara acknowledged, completely ignoring Marino's last remark. "I remember you compared the Prometheus to serving on a dollhouse in outer space."

"With everyone all sunshine and roses, you always knew who was good and who was bad and everyone went around talking about how we're so superior and have found the right way," Marino said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

"To which you believe that there's no such thing as 'the right way,'" T'Mara said, raising her eyebrow at the last part.

"And anyone who believes that is deluding themselves," Marino said with a scoff. "This is turning into less of a check up and more of a counseling session."

"Considering the nature of these 'check-ups,' a counseling session is inevitable," T'Mara informed Marino. "Or are you forgetting about the incident that nearly resulted in your expulsion from Starfleet?"

"Trust me, I haven't forgotten," Marino said, taking a sip from her flask. "It's the whole reason I got assigned to this shit bowl."

"From what you've told me, I can logically assume that the assignment is a good fit for you," T'Mara told her positively.

"Great, then the conversation's over," Marino said, about to cut the connection until T'Mara raised her hand.

"Unfortunately, you and I still have some issues to discuss," T'Mara told Marino in as harsh of a tone a Vulcan could muster. "For instance, were there any temptations when you arrived on the station?"

"Just one," Marino said distastefully. "When I walked into the station, I smelled booze. I'm talking the smell of stardrifters, kanar, blood wine, Saurian brandy, and something that smelled like a citrusy wine. Even if the smell of dust and grime mostly covered it up. Not to mention the heat."

"Does the heat curb your cravings for alcohol?" T'Mara asked in a helpful manner.

"You'd think, but no," Marino said sardonically, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "Don't get me wrong, thanks to living on Vulcan for a few months, I've gotten used to three-digit degree weather. It's Shere Khan who truly suffered." Marino's voice filled with distress as she remembered her kitten's meows and his attempts to bathe himself with his tongue repeatedly. "I had to set up fans all around my quarters to keep the poor little guy from overheating!"

"Considering Cardassian physiology and the average temperate of their home planet, this does not surprise me," T'Mara informed Marino.

"Then I hope Cardassian animals don't have fur, because that would be pure torture," Marino remarked bitterly. "But we both know I didn't call you to talk about Shere Khan's suffering."

"Yes, I can sense that you are troubled by far more than your feline's suffering," T'Mara told her. "Care to tell me what that would be?"

"I had a little run in with a blast from my past," Marino told her.

"I didn't think anyone from the Prometheus would be assigned to Deep Space Nine," T'Mara stated with confusion.

"Actually, this one isn't from the Prometheus," Marino informed her. "He goes much further back."

* * *

Patel unpacked everything and then set his computer on the desk, seeing a message from the one member of his family he could count on. It only took a few seconds for the face of a jet black haired young woman with a toffee complexion to appear on his screen.

"Hey, Chris," she said with a smile. "By the time you view this, you're probably settling down in your new posting. You know, the rundown Cardassian station you were dreading. Well, I kind of envy you right now. I'm still interning on Andoria," Cathy said, pouring herself a drink. "Which makes New Jersey winters look like Gujarat."

Patel looked at the alcohol with a disapproving glance.

"I know, you don't like your baby sister drinking," Cathy said, rolling her eyes. "But cut me some slack, I'm living on a giant ice cube."

Patel drew back with a jolt. It was scary how well Cathy knew him.

"All right, the internship's not all bad. I got to watch Redbats nesting in a cave!" Cathy said excitedly, putting her hands on her chest. "Though one of them freaked out and nearly crawled through my brain."

Patel found himself peering at the top of Cathy's head, at least as much as he could see, for signs of scratches.

"Thankfully, Areliv helped me get it out," Cathy said with a dreamy smile. "He even offered to take me out to dinner."

And Cathy's got a new boyfriend, Patel thought with both pride and worry. Though I don't think Mom and Dad will like their daughter dating an Andorian.

"I know what you're thinking and Areliv is not my boyfriend!" Cathy insisted, though her bright red face told another story. "He's just a friend! A very handsome and charming friend!" She laughed. "All right, I'm kind of hoping that it will turn into something more." Cathy smiled brightly. "Who knows? Maybe Areliv and I can double date with you and Ian."

Patel's face fell.

"Anyway, I've got to go. I'm meeting my boss in a few minutes," Cathy told him. "Try to make the best of your assignment and, remember, our summers on Gujarat prepared you for Cardassian heat, even if it made Andorian cold almost intolerable."

Cathy closed the connection, leaving Patel staring at a black screen.

* * *

"His name's Chris Patel," Marino answered.

"Ah, yes," T'Mara said with a nod of her head. "The childhood friend who you separated from in high school."

"We both fell into different crowds," Marino explained bitterly. "He belonged to the hotshot squad and I belonged to the social outcasts."

"I recall you saying this during your time at the monastery," T'Mara noted. "However, I do not recall you ever telling me that Chris did anything to personally attack you."

"Oh, he didn't," Marino stated, hoping she wouldn't have to clarify.

"Then I fail to see the problem," T'Mara said, shrugging her eyebrows.

"The problem is that I'm trying to make a new life for myself and I don't need some childhood friend telling everyone about the 'sweet little girl' I used to be," Marino said crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

"Again, I fail to see how a childhood friend would cause you personal strife at your new duty position," T'Mara told her.

It was at that moment Shere Khan chose to jump on the desk.

"Is that the transient feline you found outside the monastary?" T'Mara asked, her brown eyes following Shere Khan. "The one you retrieved the fans for?"

"You mean the one who was abandoned on Vulcan?" Marino said, her eyes narrowing as she remembered seeing him panting on the hot desert of her former retreat. "He didn't really have anyone else who could take him in."

"So, you chose to make him your pet," T'Mara recalled.

"What was I supposed to do?" Marino said defensively as she took Shere Khan off of her desk and held him in her arms. "Help the poor kitty and then abandon him to the shelter?"

"You always did have a compassion for animals," T'Mara told her, raising an eyebrow. "People are another matter."

"Yeah, animals rock, people suck," Marino said, setting Shere Khan down on the floor, meowing loudly as he rubbed against Marino's legs. "Sorry, wittle boy, but your mama's in the middle of something."

T'Mara raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm one of those nutsos who treats their pets like their children," Marino said, folding her arms. "Can we get back to the matter at hand?"

T'Mara raised her right eyebrow.

"Perhaps Mr. Patel will not divulge sensitive information without your approval," T'Mara told her helpfully.

"You might be right about that," Marino conceded hesitantly. "But he might get defensive when people insult me." She recalled his apology before contacting T'Mara. "Plus, Chris would still have questions that I really don't want to answer."

And one of them will be answered when the CMO arrives with my medical file, Marino thought sardonically. That'll be fun.

"I'm sure if Mr. Patel respects your privacy, then he will not force you to share information that you are uncomfortable divulging," T'Mara told her reassuringly.

"You've got a point there," Marino agreed with a reluctant nod.

"Is that all that concerns you?" T'Mara asked.

"Actually, there's one more thing..." Marino asked hesitantly, holding up her right index finger.

"Ensign Marino, Vulcans do not 'change their mind.' You are still not permitted to imbibe any alcohol," T'Mara told her firmly.

"Wow, am I really that predictable?" Marino asked, her eyes widening.

"Yes." T'Mara answered in her usual matter of fact tone.

She has me there, she thought. When she spoke again, her voice was a little more relaxed. "Though, you have to admit, it's going to be hard for me to 'curb my cravings' when I'm assigned to a place that smells like booze."

"Your argument is illogical since the synthehol and blitz should curb your cravings," T'Mara told her sympathetically. "Additionally, consider the manuscript you found. It may be logical to conclude that Deep Space Nine could give you the mental stimulation the Prometheus could not."

"Yeah, but even Deep Space Nine can't keep my brain entertained all the time," Marino concluded with her arms crossed and her head tilted to the side. "So I might need a little pick-me-up on those slow days."

"As your sponsor, I must advise against that," T'Mara told her firmly.

"Fongool," Marino said angrily, putting her arms to her side. "Chat with you more, but I need to unpack."

"Very well," T'Mara said with a nod. "Remember to contact me if you feel any urges."

"Sure thing," Marino said as T'Mara held up her right hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting.

"Live long and prosper," T'Mara told her.

"I can try for the latter, but I'm not making any promises about the former," Marino told her honestly.

"Ensign Marino..." T'Mara told her in a slight warning tone.

"All right," Marino said, putting her hand up in the Vulcan salute. "Peace and long life, Counselor."

Marino cut off the connection and looked around her quarters. It seemed pretty standard with a desk, the typical Cardassian mattress, her bags near the door and silhouettes of paintings owned by their former occupier. Like everyone else on the station, he left in a hurry. She unzipped one of her bags and pulled out a few isolinear chips that contained recordings of all of her favorite songs, some of them having their own playlists. She used her personal console and installed them all in her quarters, instructing the computer to play one at random.

"Journey," Marino exclaimed with a bright smile as the music started playing. "Awesome!" Emptying the contents from the rest of her luggage, she lazily threw them in the correct places in her quarters, singing along to "Don't Stop Believing," relishing in the antiquated style.

* * *

Patel turned on the connection, ready to record his outgoing message.

"Hey, Cathy," he greeted. "Really liked hearing your message and glad to hear you're doing well, in spite of the freezing cold. Though I might have to check this Areliv out to see if he's good enough for my sister." He smiled to let Cathy know that he wasn't serious. Well, not entirely. "Things on Deep Space Nine aren't too bad and trust me when I say the heat's the least of my worries."

The doctor's smile disappeared. "The whole place looks like a shipwrecked ghost town and knowing the history of this station doesn't help. Let me put it this way, Candy found a manuscript of the Gul who used to live here and, by the way she talked about him, things didn't sound pleasant." Patel's smile returned, imagining the look on Cathy's face. "Yeah, you heard that right, Candy's my roommate. Though, she's a little different from how we remember. As for how, let's just say that she finally got that backbone you always said she needed to grow."

Patel's face fell. "Also, there's something I need to tell you. Ian and I broke up. I know you liked him and you're sad to see him go, but it's better this way. Our careers were taking us in different directions and we both felt that it would be better to, in archaic terms, rip the band aid off rather than leave it on until it naturally falls. Anyway, I have to go. Plenty of unpacking to do and I need to get the Infirmary set up for when the CMO arrives."

He closed the connection and unzipped one of his bags. He meticulously placed everything where they belonged and realized he could hear Marino's music from across his quarters. He had to admit that the ensign had a beautiful singing voice, but he had a hunch that he'd be listening to it way more often than he wanted to. * * *

#star trek #star trek deep space nine #fanfiction #Fanart #commission #candy marino #chris patel #mind games #deviantart

1 note · View note

writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 6 years

Text

The Bear and the Giant {Part 4/4}

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Tormund Giantsbane x Overweight Female Reader

Warning: Strong language

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Summary/Request: You failed to tell Tormund how you felt before he left for Eastwatch and now you hear if the news. Your hope that he’s survived is one of the few bright spots in it all. You’re determined to say the words you want to say to him. [Reader is the cousin of Lyanna Mormont]

Part 1 X, Part 2 X , Part 3 X

“Tonight.”

“Mmm? Tonight?” You look up at Tormund from your place resting against his chest, the morning after your union. His eyes are serious, but not angry or unkind, just serious. In the morning light his hair burns an even brighter red that catches your eye.

“We should marry tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, you’re my wife. To the Free Folk anyway. I want you to be my wife to the southerners as well. My Little She-Bear wife.”

“Well, Jon could officiate, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind…and Jorah could present me. I thought he was dead but…he’s the last of my male family members. He wouldn’t argue, he knows his place in the family is…rocky at best.” You start thinking it through, you don’t have a wedding dress per say but you’re sure you have something formal and nice enough in your trunk to do as a last minute item, cloaks wouldn’t be needed for a marriage before the Old Gods and while Jon certainly isn’t Tormund’s father, he’s the King in the North, the best person to officiate. He is also your friend.

“Your family? Will they be mad?” You know he isn’t asking because he cares about them being mad, but because you will care. Tormund has never cared much what others think of him, he’s spent his whole life being treated like a savage by those south of the Wall, and while he isn’t the best with words he’s perfectly capable of defending himself if need be.

“Well, there’s not many of us left…but I’m unimportant. If Lyanna were to die, Jorah, would most likely be reinstated as heir to the seat. No one ever planned for me to be necessary to the family line. Lyanna won’t care. She’s young, and while she understands the use of marriage for political gain, I think her main concern is my happiness. Jorah won’t argue, he treads lightly around us after everything that he did. Us bears are a rare breed now. Not many people to be mad left.” You had no mother or father to be angry, no grandfather or grandmother, no aunts or uncles, only your cousins. In a way it gave you a freedom that others did not have in your position.

“Tonight.”

“Tonight. I’ll have to talk to everyone, but yes, tonight before the Weirwood.” You lay your cheek back against his chest, fingers tracing circles on his skin. It is still early, and you wish to take the time to enjoy this a little longer. Once you’re married you’ll fall asleep to him and wake up to him, you’re rather fond of the idea. Tormund is incredibly warm and as the weather grows colder and the hot springs struggle to heat the walls of Winterfell he will be a lovely night time companion, even more than that he holds you close and makes you feel safer. It is lovely to sleep besides another person.

You are surprisingly unworried about arranging a last-minute wedding or even the prospect of one. As a child you were sure that your wedding would be something that made you nervous, anxious, but instead you are eager, excited. You want to marry Tormund, you want to be his wife, not because you needed to, to prove you loved him and that he loved you, but because it bound you together in a way that seemed special, meaningful. Because being called his wife and calling him your husband sent a thrill through you.

It isn’t until hours later that you drag yourself and force Tormund out of bed. He is incredibly reluctant for a man who is used to waking at odd hours and living off little sleep, for a man who previously never had the luxury. But, you feel his reluctance yourself. His bed had become a sort of quiet sanctuary in those moments; warm, comfortable, quiet, and safe. It was sad to leave it.

“Tormund and I, we’re planning on getting married tonight before the Weirwood…would you officiate?” You know that Jon won’t likely say no, but it is a surprise and a big thing to ask of someone, but he simply smiles at you as if he’d been waiting for the question all along.

“Aye, of course I will. I’m neither of your fathers but it would be an honour. Would you like me to spread the word?”

“Please, I still need to ask Jorah to give me away, but it would be nice to have guests, people to support us. I know it might receive criticism. After all he’s the unofficial king of the Free Folk and I’m a lady but…”

“It’s a good thing. Shows the Free Folk and our folk that we can love each other, work together, it also gives both sides a stake in each other’s well being. Besides, those that don’t wish to come don’t have to. Those who wish to celebrate your happiness will be there.” Jon puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you smile in thanks. You know criticism will come your way. After your reunion with Tormund in the courtyard yesterday you already had heard a few comments about how you were the wildling’s whore, how there was something wrong with you, how it was unfathomable for you to love a wildling. You chose to ignore the comments, it didn’t matter what they thought. What mattered was that you were happy, Tormund was happy.

Your cousin Jorah was surprisingly easy to get on your side, while he hadn’t been at Winterfell for very long and was planning on returning to Dragonstone soon, he was seemingly unsurprised by the turn of events. He had said that it wasn’t his place to argue differently and that as long as you were happy he would gladly give you away that night. Lyanna as you expect was also perfectly accepting. Even going so far as to proclaim that a king of the Wildlings was still a king. Whether that was an attempt to feel more at ease with your marriage to a member of a Free Folk and not the nobility or a genuine belief that Tormund had similar status as Jon or any other king you weren’t sure. But you were glad for her support nonetheless.

The day trailed by slowly, with you allowing Sansa a day free from training with the sword to help you hunt for a suitable dress to wear that evening. You knew Tormund wouldn’t care if you turned up in furs or breeches, but you wanted to wear a nice dress. While it wouldn’t be a dress specifically made for your wedding day like you’d dreamed as a child, that didn’t matter because unlike you’d been told as a child you were marrying for love not politics. You could sacrifice the superficial for something much more important.

In the end you were lucky enough to realise you’d packed one of your nicer dresses to travel to Winterfell. It fit you well, in wool of your favourite colour, warm, but still pretty, a formal wool dress rather than a practical one.

Each hour trickled by slowly as you tried to find ways to amuse yourself, to keep your mind off of that evening. Reading, writing letters, discussing the prospect of getting Sansa a sword better suited for her strength. Until it was close enough that you could bathe, dress, and allow Sansa to comb and style your hair. You looked like a Northern bride, warm, pretty, prettier than you expected to feel, and excited. You looked excited, happy.

“So?” You turn to Sansa and Arya both who are watching you as you smooth down the front of the dress over your stomach and pull at lint and thread.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” It is Arya that says it, not Sansa, and that is why you are filled with more confidence. Because Arya never says things lightly nor is she particularly bothered by appearances or dresses or anything of that sort. Its quite high praise from the younger Stark girl. Sansa nods in agreement before a knock sounds at your door.

“Come in!”

“Are you ready?” It is your cousin, Jorah, he’s dressed in what fine clothes he could find last minute, his hair combed neatly, an arm bent for you to take.

“Always.”

It is a cold night as you walk to the Godswood, snow is falling, soft and cold. Beautiful, but cold, but the warmth of your affections for Tormund, for those who stand beside the Weirwood with him to see you married, keeps you warm. He has been forced into finer clothes, he looks uncomfortable, but you know that likely he chose to change from his usual attire for you, in an attempt to impress you. It makes you smile, after all it is rather funny how he pulls at the tunic and plays with his beard to make sure he looks alright. It makes you smile even wider when he looks up at you from the where he’s stood before the Weirwood, his eyes widening, seeming to shine even from this distance, that large grin taking over his face and you know he’s restraining himself from yelling out some comment or another.

Jorah walks you closer to the Weirwood until you are a few feet away from Tormund and Jon smiles over at you, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” Jon asks smiling even wider if possible. You know he’s happy for you and Tormund, his two friends. You are happy that he is here, supportive as ever.

“Y/N, of House Mormont, comes here to be wed this night. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” Your cousin recites the words in a way that makes it clear he has spent the last hours reciting them over and over again to ensure he got them right. For his many faults you are grateful that you still have family to give you away like this, to work so hard to get those old words right.

Tormund steps forward after a glance and nod from Jon, you are sure he has been briefed on what he is supposed to do, but your customs are still strange to him and you know it must be weird to do the marriage customs of another people. The same way you found southern weddings to be rather strange, all those prayers and cloaks.

“Tormund Giantsbane, King of the Free Folk. Who gives her?”

“Jorah, of House Mormont, the son of her father’s brother.” It is so wordy compared to cousin, but weddings required words and formalities even if the weddings of the Old Gods were relatively quick and simple.

“Lady Y/N, do you take this man?” Jon asks, and you turn to face Tormund with a smile, your hand reaching out to hold his in your own.

“I take this man.” With those final words you are married, and you giggle against Tormund’s lips as he pulls you into a kiss. The clapping of guests and cheering is drowned out by the elation at being his wife, at the feeling of his smile against your mouth.

As the guests leave the Weirwood to enter the hall for the dinner which has been prepared, Tormund pulls away only to rest his forehead against yours.

“You’re now my Little She-Bear wife.”

“And you’re my Ginger Giant of a husband.” You are equals, you know that much. The Free Folk view marriage as such, Tormund views marriage as such, you view marriage as such. You are equals. He is yours and you are his and you cannot stop the grin that over takes your face at that, your nose nuzzling against his. To think mere days ago you were worried you’d never get to tell him how much you loved him, now you’re married.

“The Bear and the Giant.”

“The Bear and the Giant.” You echo his words. It would be quite the song you think, with a little embellishment of course for added entertainment. But the story of your love is enough for you. The story of how you fell in love with a wildling, a man you never thought you’d love so much, is enough.

There was a Bear,

A Lady Fair,

Who Fell in love with a Ginger Giant,

A Wildling Ever Defiant.

He was Kissed by Fire,

With a Strength to Admire,

She was Soft and Sweet,

Her House Not Known to Retreat.

The Wall Fell,

And on His Possible Death She Dwelled,

But He Arrived at Winterfell,

Covered in Ice, Bruised, but Well.

Before the Weirwood They Said Their Vows,

Despite the Many Raised Eyebrows,

A Wildling and a Lady Bound,

Their Love Profound.

There was a Bear,

A Lady Fair,

Who Fell in love with a Ginger Giant,

A Wildling Ever Defiant.

#readerinsert #reader insert #tormund giantsbane x reader #tormund giantsbanexreader #tormund giantsbane/reader #tormund giantsbane / reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones reader insert #plus size reader

136 notes · View notes

blackgwenstacy · 6 years

Text

‘tis the season (to be merry)

[shows up five days late with starbucks and a gay fanfic] hey y’all merry chrysler

Happy holidays to @connorstolll !! I was your secret santa for @pjosecretsanta2k17. I hope you enjoy your Solangelo college au <3

word count: 2,200

summary: Will Solace is a little in love with his roommate, and holiday party shenanigans only confirm that he’s a lot in love with his roommate.

warnings: alcohol use, a few f-bombs, and STEM major roasts

There’s a certain feeling one gets after taking their very last final of the semester. A freeing feeling, like the entire world has been lifted off their shoulders and each anxiety-ridden thought suddenly flees from their mind.

Will hasn’t felt this relieved since before the semester started. After those stressful weeks, he wants nothing more than to spend his break sleeping, eating, and binge watching Netflix.

And pining after his roommate. His dorky, adorable, oblivious ass roommate.

Will’s had somewhat of a crush on his college roommate, Nico di Angelo, for the past six months. They’ve roomed together for a year now, but it took some time for Will not to be intimidated by Nico’s dark features, brooding expression, and his infinite knowledge on the secrets of the universe.

Once Will had grown used to all of that, however, boy was he gone.

It’s not like Nico seemed to notice any difference in the way Will was acting toward him. It was quite ironic to Will, especially because Nico was the one who loved to rip characters apart and analyze their every word and action. Watching any movie with Nico was one hell of a psychoanalysis.

Then again, Will could be a bit more. . . expressive about his affections. But it’s not like he was letting every opportunity to admit how he feels slip through his fingers, allowing himself to suffer in silence.

(That was exactly what he was doing.)

“Hey,” he calls out upon entering his dorm, stuffing his lanyard into his backpack and tossing it at the foot of his bed. As much as he’d like to sleep forever, he told Travis he would attend he and his brother’s party tonight, so he ought to get ready for that.

“Hey,” Nico responds. He’s in bed, occupied with a rather thick looking book, an empty mug of coffee resting on the nightstand next to him. Will frowns, already knowing Nico was hardly going to pay him any attention, hyper focused on whatever literature he was studying. “How was the Physics exam?”

“Physiology. Anatomy and Physiology.”

“That’s not the same thing?”

“I’m just glad it’s over.” Will plops onto the stiff mattress of his dormitory bed, removing his boots and peeling off his socks. “I thought you were finished with assignments?”

Nico doesn’t look up from the book. “I am.”

“Then why are you reading—” Will gets up, crosses the short distance between their beds and bends over slightly to glance at the book cover, “—Canterbury Tales?”

Nico still doesn’t pay Will any mind, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses. Will struggles to ignore how adorable Nico looks with them on. “I’m taking English Lit next semester— ”

“Oh my god.”

“Did you know J.K. Rowling got inspiration for the Tale of the Three Brothers from the Pardoner’s Tale?”

Will did not know that, and actually thinks it’s pretty cool, but he’s still in disbelief of the fact that Nico was still studying, even after all of his finals.

“Aren’t you tired of reading?”

“Me, the English major, tired of reading? Preposterous.”

“Don’t you want to do something fun?”

Nico drops the heavy book in his lap, taking on a defensive tone. “I think literature is very fun, thank you.”

“Okay,” says Will, “and action potentials are as great as Disney World to me, but even I want nothing to do with them after talking all those exams.”

“You, the STEM major, want nothing to do with action potentials?”

Will chokes back his laugh. He want’s Nico to take him seriously, his sarcasm be damned.

“Take a break, man.”

Nico frowns, taking off his glasses, and Will tries not to look disappointed.

“I don’t know,” Nico sighs. He crawls across his bed and shoves Canterbury Tales into his overflowing bookshelf kept at the foot of it. “It feels weird. Like, I keep thinking there’s something I should be doing.”

“What you should be doing,” Will starts, “is rewarding yourself for surviving Hell Week.” He drops the bomb. “The Stolls are having a holiday party tonight. You should come with me.“

Nico looks the opposite of intrigued. “No, thanks.”

“Come on, Nico,” Will stresses, “You haven’t left the residence hall in two weeks. You’ve only left this dorm room to take your finals.”

“I think having to evacuate last week because Leo started a fire in the communal kitchen counts as me leaving the residence hall.”

Will rolls his eyes. He knows Nico doesn’t have much of a party personality, but some of Nico’s friends would be there. It would be good to catch up with them and get some human interaction.

“It’ll be crowded, and noisy,” Nico objects. “Did you know noise is one of life’s most common stressors?”

Will hums, and quips, “So is loneliness.”

Nico glares at him. “You know, when I decided not to request a different roommate next semester, it’s because I thought there wasn’t any way you could possibly get more irritating.”

Will ignores the jab. “Are you sure it’s not because you love me?”

Nico amusedly raises one of his eyebrows.

“Fine,” Will relents. “I’ll go by myself. Alone. Even though loneliness is one of life’s most common stressors—“

“You are the biggest Drama Queen,” says Nico.

“Says you.“

Nico rolls his eyes, standing up. “Fine, I’ll go. But not for long, I’m already mentally exhausted.”

“Okay, cool,” Will says calmly, though on the inside he was dancing on flowers and rainbows. He gathers up his toiletries and his towel. “We’d better shower. It starts at seven.”

“You better not use my fucking stall, Solace, I swear to god.”

Will doesn’t know what he was expecting when Nico agreed to go to the Stoll’s party with him. Perhaps he thought Nico would spend the whole time sitting quietly, keeping to himself and counting the minutes until it would be over. Maybe he thought the festive atmosphere would warm Nico’s heart like his smile did to Will’s cheeks, and he would confess his love to Will after the two shared a cliche kiss under the mistletoe.

Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn’t this.

“And since we’ve no place to goooo, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” Nico sings, or slurs rather, along with Dean Martin’s suave voice. His face falls. “I can’t believe Jon Snow died.”

“He came back,” Will reminds him.

Nico’s face lights up, and so does Will’s heart. “Woah, you’re right.”

They sit next to each other on a raggedy green sofa in the Stoll’s apartment. There’s music playing in the background, the playlist going back and forth between traditional Christmas songs and whatever’s on the Hot 100 this week. There’s a few dozen people that are here, most of them Will knew by association. They’ve only been here an hour and Nico’s on his third cup of eggnog.

“I’ve been thinking,“ Nico starts, “when I was a kid they made us pick grass and put it in a box under the tree for the camels to eat on Three Kings Day and when I was a kid I didn’t question it but now I’m not a kid and camels don’t eat grass. Wait—do they?”

Will isn’t sure if he’s amused or concerned by how many conjunctions Nico just used in one sentence. Nico has a conniption every time Will uses a comma in an unnecessary place when they text.

“—They live in the desert. There’s no grass in the desert. Wait—is there?”

Nico doesn’t indulge in alcohol very often. Not that Will has ever seen, at least. He wonders if he usually sings Christmas carols and talks about camels when he’s drunk.

He watches as Nico scowls and peers curiously into his red cup. “I think there’s something in this eggnog.”

“Yes. Rum. I told you that before you drank it.”

Nico’s eyebrows raise, far enough for his bangs to hide them, blinks with wide eyes. “Oh shit.”

Then he shrugs, and downs the rest of the spiked drink. Unbelievable.

Will snorts. “You’re going to regret that.”

Nico grins mischievously. “Me, the college student with an existential crisis, having regrets?” he says, looking about the room. His eyebrows fly into his hair again. “Does Percy have samosas?”

Nico stumbles to his feet, and disregards Will as he chases down Percy for some of his samosas.

Well, at least Nico wasn’t miserable, Will thinks. He was enjoying himself, sort of. This could’ve been worse.

Will sits through a horribly rehearsed, yet hilariously iconic Mean Girl’s Jingle Bell Rock reenactment by Leo, Piper, Percy, and Jason, and a marshmallow eating contest between Cecil and Lou Ellen. It’s been twenty minutes and Nico still hasn’t returned. Will hopes he’s not throwing up eggnog and samosas in the bathroom right now.

He waits five more minutes before getting up to go look, passing a couple passionately making out under the mistletoe in the hallway. He checks the bathroom, which happens to be empty, and unwillingly checks the two bedrooms, which are not so empty. He hopes the Stolls change their sheets before they crash later.

Having no luck thus far, Will ventures into the kitchen. Maybe Nico’s judgement wasn’t totally impaired and he decided to find some water to flush his system. Or he was looking for more eggnog.

“Hey, Will,” a familiar voice says. Connor Stoll, sitting atop the kitchen island, grins down at him. He has a red solo cup in one hand, the other rests around the shoulders of his boyfriend, Mitchell. He raises his cup. “Eggnog?”

Will shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“DD?” Mitchell asks.

“Well, I guess so now.”

Mitchell raises a pierced eyebrow.

“I came with Nico. He’s kind of tipsy.”

“It’s Grandma Stoll’s famous holiday eggnog,” says Connor, raising his cup in praise. “Pure fuel.”

��Hey, have either of you seen him? I’ve been looking for him for half an hour—“

“Found him,” Mitchell smirks, pointing with his cup. Next to him Connor bursts out in rambunctious laughter.

“Oh, yeah, he’s feeling merry, all right!”

Will spins around, and — Oh. Oh.

Nico was dancing rather uncoordinatedly in the middle of the living room, surrounded by a dozen people, an Ariana Grande song blaring from the speakers. Everyone whoops as the dark-haired boy gyrates his hips on an offbeat.

Will lets out a bark of laughter, unbelieving of what he was witnessing.

“Strip tease!” a voice that sounds suspiciously like Leo yells.

Nico smirks at the suggestion, but doesn’t move to take off his clothing. That is, until, he catches Will’s eye in the crowd of people.

He sends Will a wink, and begins to pull off his sweater. Will can feel his stomach flip, his face heating up.

There are hoots and hollers, and people scramble to pull out their phones. It only seems to egg Nico on more. Will thinks there’s a bit too much liquid courage pumping through his veins.

He. . . should probably stop this. Nico would be mortified in the morning if Will let him give all their classmates a drunken strip-tease.

Nico’s stripping doesn’t advance very far, however, because his sweater promptly gets stuck over his head. Everyone roars with laughter, Nico’s giggles muffled by the knitted fabric.

Will grows anxious at all the phones recording tonight’s events. There was no way Nico wanted to be the center of everyone’s social media attention. He pushes his way through the crowd, grabbing at Nico. “O-kay!”

He pulls the drunken man away from the limelight, into a less crowded hallway.

Nico speaks from inside his sweater. “Will, is that you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m stuck.”

Will laughs fondly. “I see that. Here.”

Will helps Nico pull his sweater back down. Nico huffs and ruffles his hair, looking flustered.

“I think,” says Will, fixing Nico’s bird nest hair, “you’ve had too much eggnog.”

Nico hiccups in response.

“We should probably go back to the residence hall,” Will suggests, and Nico nods exaggeratedly in agreement. His brown eyes catch on something above them.

“What?” Will asks, and follows Nico’s eyes. Oh.

A mistletoe, in all it’s holly jolly glory, hangs mockingly right above them.

Yeah, they’re not doing that.

“That’s so cliche,” Nico comments, squinting at the fake branch.

“I agree,” says Will. He grabs Nico by the shoulders, spins him around so he can guide him. “Let’s go.”

It took nearly an hour to get Nico back to their dorm. Will struggled with guiding the stumbling man all the way to his car, then had to drive slower than usual due to Nico’s complaints of motion sickness. And as much as he adored Nico, he would still kick his ass for throwing up eggnog and samosas inside of his car.

“Oh, you are going to hate me tomorrow,” Will says to Nico, tapping through the stories on his Snapchat feed. There were various clips of Nico’s clumsy performance tonight. Hysterical as it was, Will felt slightly embarrassed for him.

Nico looks over from where Will had tucked him into his bed. “Enough to change my roommate request?”

Will laughs at Nico for the hundredth time tonight. “I hope not.”

“It’s okay,” Nico yawns before continuing, “you’re a STEM major and I still haven’t requested a new roommate. You could be in league with the First Order and I still wouldn’t request a new roommate.”

Will snorts. He wasn’t sure how Nico could be intoxicated and still manage to be a fucking nerd.

Will puts his phone to sleep, setting it down on his nightstand. He turns in his bed to face Nico. “Why’s that?”

“You said it yourself,” says Nico. Will stares at him for a long time, not quite sure what he meant. Nico smiles at him, and turns in his bed. “Merry Christmas, Will.”

Christmas wasn’t for another week. Nonetheless, Will smiles fondly, and turns off his lamp. He lies down and indulges in the butterflies that warm his stomach. They match the fluttering of his heart.

“Merry Christmas, Nico.”

the Ariana Grande song Nico was dancing to was Wit It This Christmas LMAO

#pjosecretsanta2k17 #connorstolll #solangelo #fic #my writing #mine #Will solace #Nico di Angelo #dsfdjslfsdlkfj i haven't written in so long i hope that was okay #when in doubt just compose the entire fic out of dialogue and nerdy references #i don't hate STEM majors pls no one attack me sdlkfjdsj #also i still have no idea how to write in present tense can u tell

85 notes · View notes

nyangibun · 6 years

Note

“What do you mean,” squawked Robb, “it’s a bit like prostitution!?” Jonsa, obviously.

Hahaha 😂 okay.

“What do you mean it’s a bit like prostitution?”

Sansa rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “You’re being a little melodramatic, Robb. I said it was sort of like it. It’s for charity. Couldn’t you just suck it up and be a good Samaritan?”

Her brother looked unconvinced. “Charity or not, you’re still trying to sell my body.”

“I’m not –” Sansa groaned, pinching her nose. “I’m selling your company for charity! It’s an auction! Jon’s going to do it, right, Jon?”

The man in question chuckled nervously and ran a hand down the back of his neck. “About that… Couldn’t I just donate money?”

“No!” She pinched his elbow, causing Jon to yelp, and sighed. “Please, Jon? It would mean so much to me if you would just do this.” She fluttered her eyelashes and widened her eyes, hoping her puppy dog look still worked on him even though she was over the age of five now.

Jon laughed and it lit up his face in a way that made him more handsome than Sansa used to give him credit for, but it had been two years since they last saw each other and Jon was all grown up. It was hard not to notice that now.

“Fine, okay,” he told her. “Just give me a time and place. I’ll be there.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Sansa squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. “You won’t regret this!” Turning back to her brother, however, she fixed him a glare. “And you. If you don’t do this for me, I’m going to tell mum you were the one that peed into her priceless vase, not Theon.”

Robb groaned and threw up his hands in defeat, stomping away while mumbling about good-for-nothing little sisters. Sansa smirked as she watched him leave, Jon following close behind; she always got what she wanted in the end and this charity auction was going to be a success even if she had to sacrifice someone to do it.

But come the evening of the auction and Sansa was in a state. With rollers still in her hair, she ran to and from various crises, trying to extinguish the fires before they completely wrecked her evening. This night had to go off without a hitch. Her entire career depended upon it. The Winterfell Children’s Charity Gala was one of the most prestigious events of the year and if she mucked this up then the museum would never trust her again to lead any of their projects.

“Sansa!” someone shouted, grabbing her shoulders to face them. “You have got to relax. Go get ready. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“But Millie said the catering staff are –”

“Sansa,” her best friend and co-worker interrupted with a fierce scowl. “Change. Now.”

Reluctantly, Sansa pulled away from Jeyne and went to the lobby to take the lift up to her hotel room for the night. She could totally do this. Get dressed, have a drink and then go downstairs to greet the guests. Sansa wasn’t so neurotic she had to oversee every little minuscule detail… right?

In an effort to relax, Sansa might have had one too many tiny little whiskey bottles from the mini-fridge, and by the time she arrived at the gala, it was already in full swing. The world swayed and she swayed along with it, despite her best efforts to appear more sober than she was. Jeyne eventually found her and pulled her aside.

“You’re drunk,” she accused, smiling. “Thank god. You’ve been working to the bone on this for months. You deserve to enjoy the party, babe. Now, the men have arrived backstage for the auction. Your hot brother is asking for you so you should probably go see to that.”

“One, he’s not hot because ew,” Sansa said, raising a finger. “And two, I’m not that drunk. I’m tipsy. There’s a difference.”

With a bottle of water handed to her from Jeyne, Sansa made her way backstage. She spotted her brother easily as he was always the one in the middle of a group of people talking as obnoxiously loud as he possibly could, but her eyes slid away from his to the man beside him, dressed in a black tux with his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. Sansa nearly moaned at the sight of him.

Okay, Sansa, get a grip. You’re not fifteen anymore. Jon is just Jon. Breathe. Oh my god, he’s coming over…

“Hey, stranger.”

Sansa giggled. “Hi. You clean up nice.”

To her surprise, Jon actually blushed, turning his head, and shrugged. “Rented tux. I don’t actually own one myself.” He swallowed and added, “you look beautiful, Sansa.”

“Thank you,“ she replied, trying very hard not to turn as red as a tomato as well. “Are you ready?”

Jon laughed. “To be sold like a cow at a market? Not really. But… good cause, right? So it’ll be worth it.”

She smiled, placing her hand on his forearm. “Thank you for that, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course, Sans. It’s no problem,” he murmured. “Listen, I was wondering –”

“Gentlemen! Take your mark!”

To her vast disappointment, Jon was ushered away before he could finish his sentence and she was ushered to the ballroom to watch the proceedings with Jeyne by her side.

“Welcome, welcome, folks, to the 25th Annual Children’s Charity Auction!” shouted the auctioneer. “Not only will we be auctioning off priceless antiques tonight but you will also have the chance to bid on a day with one of these handsome lads.” The thirteen men Sansa had handpicked walked onto stage right on cue with her brother at the front with the most ridiculous grin on his smug face. She could practically hear the middle-aged women in the audience swooning at the sight. Great...

As the auction progressed, Sansa’s nerves began to settle. Each man was bid on to a reasonable amount and each of them took up the stage like they were doing an act at the Royal Variety, including Robb, who got a whopping £1000 bid. Finally, it was Jon’s turn and her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. He looked as uncomfortable as always, somehow even more solemn under the harsh glare of the spotlight, but somehow, it was all working for his benefit. Jon never looked more handsome, more devastatingly hot or stupidly adorable.

Sansa found herself feeling anxious as the bidding began to start. Her skin prickled at the thought of him on a date with one of the women in this room.

“£200!” yelled a short, stout brunette in her late fifties. Sansa knew her as an event coordinator from one of the trustees. Midge? She couldn’t remember her name, but Sansa instinctively distrusted her.

“£250!”

This went on for a few minutes before suddenly, a paddle was placed in the air and sure, smooth voice said, “£1000.” Everyone went silent and turned towards the woman. She was young and slender with bright blue eyes and long white-blonde hair. Frankly, she was stunning and Sansa hated her.

“£1000 going once, going twice –”

“£1050!” Sansa shouted without thinking. Her cheeks were burning and she looked anywhere but at Jon. Shit... What was she thinking?

The blonde’s eyes snapped to hers, scrutinising and clearly irritated. She raised her paddle again. “£1100.”

Sansa growled under her breath. This was going to seriously put a dent in her bank account but the very thought of Jon on a date with her somehow appeared worse than living off of pot noodles for a few months. “£1500!” Sansa shouted again. Her heart beat in her chest as the auctioneer called out her bid. The woman, however, lowered her paddle, glared at Sansa before exiting the ballroom altogether.

“And sold to the woman in the back!” he shouted. “Oh my, is that Miss Sansa Stark? It’s our very own coordinator! Come up on stage, love!”

Frozen, Sansa shook her head adamantly. She really did not want to get up on stage, but before she could escape, Jeyne was shoving her forward and then Jon’s hand was holding onto hers and pulling her up there with him.

“Everyone give a big round of applause for the woman who made this night possible,” he said. “Miss Stark, any words?”

The microphone was abruptly thrust into her face. “Um... thank you so much for coming. We truly appreciate your kind hearts,” Sansa spoke, thanking the gods for whatever courage was fuelling her right now. “And drinks are on me!”

The room erupted into laughter and soon, Sansa was being pushed again towards the wing of the stage, where she suddenly realised it was just Jon and her back here. She forced herself to finally look at him, wondering if he would be weirded out by what she’d just done, but instead, there was a smirk there. “What?”

“You just bid £1500 on me, shouldn’t I be asking the questions?”

Sansa crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “It’s for a good cause...”

“Oh, really? That’s it?” Jon laughed as his hand suddenly went around her waist, tugging her forward. “Because from where I stood, you looked a bit... jealous.”

“Jealous? Ha!” Sansa scoffed, but she was moving closer and closer towards him all the same. “And why on earth would I be jealous, Jon Snow?”

“Maybe,” he murmured as he dipped his head forward to place a kiss to the edge of her lips, “you fancy me.”

“How arrogant of you,” she said, though her voice was breathy and she was gripping the lapels of his jacket like it was her lifeline. Sansa smiled. “But maybe you’re right.”

“Good because I’ve fancied you for years,” Jon told her, just before he captured her lips with his, forcing her back against the wall.

It was the best £1500 she’d ever spent in her whole life.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #actuallyjonsa #jonsaff #jonxsansaff #my fics #strix #dialogue prompts

120 notes · View notes

shazyloren · 7 years

Text

The Dragon Club: Chapter 16 - Texts and Plus Ones

Summary: Jon Snow is an online blogger who gets an interview with the sort after Daenerys Targaryen, the Editor of Valyrian, a multi-million dollar fashion magazine. He'd heard so much about the silver-haired and silver-tongued woman and the running of her business; he would have to be smart to get anything more than five minutes. Will he be safe walking into the Dragon's lair or will he get thrown to the Lions?

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12018519/chapters/27686103

------

'In a shocking turn of events, online journalist Jon Snow has seemed to do a 180 on his opinions of the owner and editor-in-chief of Valyrian Magazine, Daenerys Targaryen. Patricia Bright has more on this story for us, over to you Patricia'

Jon glared at the tv screen as he ate his cereal. Was this all anyone cared about, gossip?

'Jon Snow, acclaimed journalist and well-respected writer, shared a rather friendly twitter interaction with Valyrian magazine owner Daenerys Targaryen. This comes just a few weeks after the scathing article he wrote on his blog went viral. The owner said "Another successful dinner evening, thanks to @TheWolfOnline for giving a second chance", she also commented saying she wasn't a hot head all of the time to which the journalist retweeted. It seemed like this was the end but not long after that he put up a heartfelt welcome to his Niece Lyanna Stark who was born that very evening. Daenerys tweeted a congratulations and this is where things got interesting. Jon Snow took the mickey out of the naming of her dinner party and in return was branded as 'her number one fan'. He in return staying true to the article called her hotheaded once again. This would've been nothing but the winky emoticon he added has caused fans of both parties to wonder what this actually means'

"It means nothing!" Jon groaned as Ghost pooled at his feet. He'd had a strange morning following the twitter conversation that's been had the night previous. He'd not thought anymore about it after that as he'd got to meet little Lyanna who was sweet and adorable. He'd been told off by Talisa for congratulating publically before he knew everything was okay so he was being ignored as was Meera and Arya. Robb wasn't bothered he loved the outpouring of emotion his family gave him.

"Why are you shouting at the TV?" Jon turned to see Arya who'd just walked through his door. Gendry followed closely behind. "Is it because your girlfriend was nice for once?"

"She's not my girlfriend, Arya. We don't even like each other that much!" Jon sighed as he turned the TV off.

"And yet you know of whom I speak?" Arya giggled. Gendry just rolled his eyes and sat down on the sofa.

"I hate you sometimes"

"No you don't" Arya grinned. "Anyways, as you know. We are getting married next week"

"Aye, I think you might have mentioned it" Jon smirked. "Only once or twice though"

"Don't start" Arya scoffed.

"Arya, he's not lying though, is he?" Gendry butted in. Arya shot him a look which made him immediately shut up.

"I want you to bring a plus 1" She said. "The timing of the baby means that someone has to stay and watch Lyanna. Talisa's mum has cancelled"

"And why must it be me?" Jon squinted his eyes in suspicion. Arya just meekly smiled. No, Jon thought, no way. "I'm not asking Daenerys to come to your wedding!"

"Jon please!" Arya whined. "I want you to be with her, she likes you and I know you like her!"

"I said he wouldn't" Gendry chipped in. Arya wasn't listening, she was wrestling Jon for his phone and failing miserably. She was too short, she couldn't cover both arms. She yelled at Gendry to help who just sighed and grabbed his phone at ease. "Sorry mate, I'm trying to do as I'm told"

"So aiding and abetting has an appeal to you?" Jon grumbled.

"No, but being kicked in the nuts later on for not helping doesn't appeal to me" Gendry shrugged meekly.

"Touche" Jon nodded. "Arya what are you doing?"

I'm drafting a text message that doesn't make you seem like you like her but that does show that you're willing to give her another opportunity to show you if she can function in society like a normal person" Arya said as she stared intensely at Jon's phone screen. "There, perfect!"

She chucked the phone back at Jon who was not happy at this tag teaming that had just occurred. He looked at the message. 'Daenerys, my sister is getting married on the 11th February next week. I am asking you to be my plus 1. I enjoyed the evening last night (even if your friends can be slightly... intense) and you showed me that you're not 100% hotheaded. Accompany me and change my mind once again, Jon'. "Arya that's a very formal text"

"She's a formal gal" Arya shrugged.

"Not really, she doesn't talk like she'd from the 1800s!" Jon moaned. "You make me look like a high class moron!"

"You are" She snorted as she ducked Jon's incoming playful punch. "What, it's the truth?"

Jon just ignored her and glared at his phone, wishing he could bring the message back and it not reach her eyes. But when his phone dinged as he stared at it, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. 'I would love to, let me know the date and time and I'll be ready, you can swing by and pick me up! Daenerys X'. Jon linked several times as he processed what was appearing on his phone.

"She accept?" Arya was looking triumphant before Jon even said anything. He hated it when his sister played games like this. He just nodded. "Yes, my plan is coming together!"

"Arya calm down" Gendry laughed. "Stop playing Matchmaker!"

"I will not, Jon needs a good shag!" Arya cackled.

"Arya stop, you sound like Robb!" Jon was feeling uncomfortable. His cheeks flushed red and he hung his head in shame and awkwardness.

"Jon, it's been three years since Ygritte and what have you done with your sex life? Nothing! I know you loved her but it's time to move on; even if you don't date this Daenerys person I think it'd be good for you to get some friends outside of us" Arya was starting to sound like Catelyn, bossing Jon around.

"How can someone so small be such a huge pain in my arse?" Jon sighed.

"Believe me I ask myself that question everyday" Gendry chortled.

"Then why did you agree to marry me?" She folded her arms and looked at him through a squinted gaze.

"Because no one else will put up with you" He said dead seriously. Arya looked shocked. He started laughing. "Your face!"

"Not funny!" She smacked him.

"Ouch! I love you, you mad woman stop hitting me please!" Jon just groaned as they started fighting. Even Ghost curled up closer to Jon trying to ignore the two of them. After a few minutes and a few injuries they stopped. Jon replied to Daenerys. 'The ceremony is one 'o' clock on the 11th at St. Maegor's church. I'll have to swing by about 9.30 to yours as I'm in the procession and need to be there around 10:30 to make sure Gendry's in check, best man you see!' He was confused about many things now.

Did he really like Daenerys? Yes.

Did he really want her to be his plus one for the wedding? Yes.

Was he shitting bricks at the prospect of this? One hundred percent.

Jon went through the rest of his day re-editing his latest post and uploading it to his site. He hadn't seen Daenerys' reply to his text until late that evening, long after he'd sent his original one and just as he was getting into bed. His thoughts were of Ygritte, would she be okay with him moving on in this way? Even if it didn't turn into anything, he felt like he was ruining her memory, betraying her almost. Dany's message read, 'I look forward to it, I can't wait to see you again x'.

She wanted to see him again? He racked his brains. Did she like him too? 'And I can't wait to see you, truthfully. But I'd never admit that to anyone, gotta keep my cred going ;)' He'd replied again.

'I'll admit it, you're a very... attractive person, both personality and physicality ;) Dx'

What?

'Miss. Targaryen, are you flirting with me? Jx'

What was happening?

'Me? never. ;)'

She was flirting!

'I'll take that as a yes'

Jon couldn't believe this.

'Take it however you want, I don't mind. I'm off to bed now, maybe I'll think about your physicality while I do so...'

Oh boy, she was going to be a handful to negotiate.

#jon snow #daen #jon x daenerys #jon x dany #jon x dany fanfic #fanfic #jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerysfanfic #the dragon club #got #game of thrones #au #modern setting #modern au

20 notes · View notes

admittedlynotspartacus · 7 years

Text

“Game of Thrones” Season VII: Episode 2 - A Foreign Invasion is Underway

Guys. Sam's acne treatment. The fury of Freddie Mercury. BARACK. AND MICHELLE. Y'all stepped it up. Let's talk about it.

DRAGONSTONE

Lightning. Thunder. And then, in the uppermost window of Dragonstone - THERE’S A LIGHT.

It’s D-Baby. She’s doing her usual thing of staring moodily out of windows of castles which she’s decided to post up in instead of, you know, TAKING THE THRONE. But then P-Dinky is like, “We’re not gonna stay here long.” And we’re all like -

But before she ducks outta here, she turns to Varys and does a dramatic recitation of his Wikipedia page and opens up the library on him without mercy.

Luckily, he passes the test with flying colors and receives a full fucking pardon when he’s like, “I listened to Robert. I listened to your daddy. But you’re the voice of the people, so ya know what -?”

There is no time for revels though, because Melisandre has warped back here and is notable for being the only lady who didn’t get the memo about wearing black this season.

Anyway, she starts spewing her usual “Prince That Was Promised” shit. And D-Baby’s like, “But I’m not a prince!” And Michelle is all, “WELL TECHNICALLY, IT’S A BAD TRANSLATION THAT ACTUALLY MEANS ‘PRINCE’ OR ‘PRINCESS...’”

And we’re all like...

While at the same time being like, “Like, what is gender, amiright?”

#TheRealPrinceThatWasPromised

WINTERFELL

So Melisandre’s told D-Baby and co. about J-Snow, and they’ve dispatched a raven summoning him. But Sansa smells fish and is like -

But we’re all at home like -

And meanwhile Davos is still like -

KING’S LANDING

Cersei’s with a bunch of Tyrell bannermen giving a really inspirational speech about how they shouldn’t back D-Baby that basically boils down to -

And they’re all like, “Yeah but dragons.” And Maester Frankenstein is just like, “Don’t worry guys...

And we’re all like, “Ohmigod I wonder what it is!!!!” And he takes Cersei down to the dragon lair to show her and we’re like, “Ohmigod we’re gonna find out this episode!” and then he whips the cloth off it and it’s A... giant... crossbow...

And at first I’m like, “Well, now wait a second. Maybe crossbows don’t exist yet in this world.”

Aight, N.V.M.

OLDTOWN

One time I went on a 7 hour kayaking trip and didn’t bring sunscreen to reapply. There were blisters. There was pus. And yet it was not one percent as bad as what has happened to poor Daddy Mormont, who basically looks like this -

Sam thinks he can cure him, but National Treasure Jim Motherfucking Broadbent is like, “You know not the ways.” Even though Sam has clearly risen up the ranks so much that NTJMB and he are already like -

NTJMB is even asking Sam for thoughts on his new book about the last six seasons of the TV show we’ve been watching. And Sam’s like, “I don’t like the title.” And NTJMB is like, “What would you rather call it?” And we’re all thinking -

And he doesn’t. Yet. Instead he goes to Daddy Mormont and he’s like -

Except less chill because he’s got a paint chipper, some rum, a hope and a prayer.

What follows is the grossest Thrones scene since Grand Maester Pycelle farted last year. Because Sam’s gotta get all this shit off Daddy Mormont by morning, but Daddy Mormont can’t scream. And there’s A LOT OF THIS SHIT ON HIM. So it basically is a combination of -

and -

DRAGONSTONE

The gang’s all here and they’re all pissed at D-Baby. Yara’s like, “We gotta attack NOW!” Mama Sand is starting a #NeverLannister movement, and D-Rigg is just like, “Hey, member Margaery?”

And then P-Dinky - remember him? He used to be the best character? - actually gets to talk and he’s like, going on about how Cersei is going to win banner-men over by appealing to their nationalism.

So in honor of Made in America week, he’s not outsourcing their plan to attack the cities around King’s Landing. Until he gets to his own home city and he’s like, “Dothraki and Unsullied, you dudes are taking Casterly Rock.”

Everybody’s V impressed at his sacrifice but also that D&D actually fucking let him drive a scene, so they’re all like -

Except D-Rigg still seems a little huffy, so she and D-Baby have a private conversation where D-Rigg is basically like, “You’re standing strong and tall. You’re the bravest of them all. If on courage you must call, then just keep on tryin’ and tryin’ and TRYIN’. Be a lion.”

And D-Baby’s just like -

And then. My dear dear friends. It’s just Barack. And Michelle. Alone. Barack’s headed out, Michelle is staying behind. It’s now or never.

And Barack just starts on his usual -

But Michelle is not having it. She’s like, “THIS is the moment.”

And then she’s like -

And then she fucking just goes for his pants but he’s like, “Stop.”

And she’s like, “Yo, lemme at that D.” But he’s all, “You don’t understand. Six inches forward and five inches back, I got a - I got an angry inch.” And she’s just like -

And suddenly, it’s just like ASS! BOOBS! ARE WE GONNA SEE HIS STUMPY-STUMP OHMIGOD I HOPE NOT!

And then she lays back like -

But instead he’s just like -

And we’re all just like -

WHEREVER ARYA IS

Arya is full of reunions this week, because at first she’s eating at this inn when who should pop up but fucking HOT PIE! Also revelation that Hot Pie totally looks like Dustin from Stranger Things.

Oh, he FOUND the chocolate pudding. He found it so hard. So they’re like chilling and she’s like -

When Hot Pie acts like the greatest GPS ever known to man and reroutes her to Winterfell by telling her the Boltons are dead. And just like that -

But first reunion #2. Because we get some creepy POV shots on Arya camping in the woods, plus some growling and snarling. And her horse is acting CRAY. And I’m thinking, “Oh fuck. Ed Sheeran and his bros are back to fucking rape her, QUICK TURN IT OFF!” But lo and behold - it’s a bunch of wolves! Which is still bad until one is like -

But it’s not gonna eat her or catcall at her, because it’s her old wolf, people! So Arya is like, “Come with me, Nymeria.” But Nymeria is like -

and she peaces out. Leaving Arya alone to be like, “I see the same sky through my eyes as you see through yours, but we’re worlds apart. Worlds apart.”

WINTERFELL

More RuPaul - Michelle Visage shenanigans as J-Snow finds out about the dragonglass on Dragonstone and is like, “I’m going.”

But Sansa still smells fish and is like -

Which then gets everyone to turn on J-Snow, so he’s just like, “You know what? Fuck this. You be queen.”

But of course Sansa’s just like -

Meanwhile, Littlefinger is still being a creep.

THE SEVEN FUCKING SEAS

All right, so here we are with the fucking Sand Snakes.

Yo I know, I know, but spoiler alert they’re gonna die soon, so it’s all okay. Just first, we have to listen to them have one more dumbass scene where the One Who Showed Her Boobs is like -

And Whale Rider and The Other One are like, “Mama! Mama! Mama!” And I’m just like -

But then we go to Yara and Mama flirting while Mama like Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’s Theon into getting them drinks. And then she’s like, “Aren’t you gonna protect your sister?” And she starts like getting close to her and touching her legs. And then she literally says, “A foreign invasion is underway.”

But alas, the invasion is cut short, because the ships are being attacked! And it’s like fire! Storming! UNCLE FREDDIE MERCURY!

And lemme tell ya, he is READY TO GO. It’s just like axes and blood and stabbing. And we’re all like -

And I’m especially like, “Uncle Freddie Mercury, find the Sand Snakes. Kill them.”

But Yara finds The One Who Showed Her Boobs first and is like, “Yo, I’m still trying to fuck your mom. Go protect her.” And The One Who Showed Her Boobs is just like, “Got it.” But the other ones aren’t so lucky. Because first he comes for Whale Rider.

And then without missing a beat he goes for The Other One!

And then Freddie’s backup boys find Mama and The One Who Showed Her Boobs and Mama’s just like, “Kill us. Get it over with.” And again, I’m just like -

But of course, it’s Game of Thrones and we can’t have too much of a good thing.

Anyway, it’s full-on Yara vs. Uncle Freddie Mercury time, and meanwhile there’s still these like mystery fire cannons shooting off.

But THERE’S NO TIME FOR LOGIC! Yara’s about to get her throat slit when Freddie’s just like - “LITTLE THEON!!!”

And Freddie’s like got an axe to her throat, and Theon could just like... run at her? I guess? And do something? And then Freddie LEGIT Virginia Woolf’s him. Like -

And Theon’s just like -

BOOB COUNT: 1 BODY COUNT: 2, plus a lotta extras in that last scene (Rest in Eternal Misery Whale Rider & The Other One) EPISODE GRADE: A-

SER POUNCE’S STRAY THOUGHTS

I just don’t believe for a second Varys is going to stop conspiring behind people’s backs just because Daenerys made him swear an oath.

After so much hype about this Prince that Was Promised prophecy, it was just a BAD TRANSLATION? I dunno, guys.

I gotta say it, I was Team Sansa for such a long time, but she’s being quite the killjoy this season. And there’s nothing I hate more than being on Team Jon. That said, nothing she’s doing is really stupid. She’s being rightly cautious, but because we know Tyrion and D-Baby aren’t trapping them, it’s creating an interesting conflict for us.

Dickon joins the latest Thrones characters recast over the season break. No more Cormac from Half-Blood Prince.

They love saying “the wars to come.”

I’m so not about Diana Rigg dying, but I fear it is coming.

So just to be clear, the plan was to use Yara’s fleet to transport Ellaria back to Sunspear and get the Dornish army. But now, the fleet has been taken (right?) and Ellaria has been abducted. So none of these armies are technically in the control of Daenerys anymore.

Emmy campaign for Barack please.

So I think it’s safe to say that we can add another Samwise-Samwell parallel in that at the end of all this, Sam will document all these events into an essentially in-world Song of Ice and Fire book.

I’ve loved this Arya plot this season. I thought for sure she was headed down a path into ice-cold vengeance biddy, but this rediscovery of her early days is really lovely and unexpected.

Maisie Williams is so good.

Do we think Littlefinger knows about Jon’s parentage?

It seems as though Yara is still alive.

Two Sand Snakes down. One (and Mama) to go. But you gotta figure Cersei’s gonna take care of them next week. Dreams really do come true.

NEXT WEEK: Freddie Mercury is the champion, Casterly Rock invasion, and J-Snow and D-Baby together at last. Will they fuck?

#game of thrones #stormborn #daenerys #jonsnow #hbo #songoficeandfire #georgerrmartin #tyrion #sansa #stark #lannister #cersei #theon #euron #greyjoy #episode2 #season7

42 notes · View notes

stonedcoldweirdo · 7 years

Note

If you want: in depth questions for Game of Thrones (/asoiaf)?

yesssss exactly what i was hoping someone would say :D

IN DEPTH FANDOM QUESTIONS

Send me a show/fandom and ill answer - Top 5 favourite characters:AryaSansaBrienneSandorTyrion

Other characters you like:Jon*DaenerysRest of the StarksYara/Asha *In the books, Jon is one of my absolute fav characters but in the show other people shine brighter than him. Least favourite characters:Fucking Ramsey BoltonAlso tbh Theon most of the timeOtps:Sansa/SandorSansa/Happiness with anybody tbhArya/GendryBrienne/Jaime Brienne/Tormund I love reading Robb/Margaery in AU fics Notps:Sansa/Petyr (but i’ll read it in fics anyway lol)Shae/Tywin (the worst thing in the books tbh)Favourite friendships:Arya and Hot Pie Arya and Ed Sheeren obvsBoyz Beyond the Wall crew Sansa and MargaeryFavourite family:House Stark Favourite episodes:Kissed by FireDragonstoneFavourite season/book/movie:A Storm of SwordsFavourite quotes:“Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?”“That is the only time a man can be brave.““Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile.“““I understand that if any more words come pouring out of your cunt mouth I’m going to have to eat every fucking chicken in this room.”““When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.““Winter is coming”Best musical moment:The Citadel scene with the chamber pots in DragonstoneAlso, the Rains of CastermereMoment that made you fangirl/boy the hardest:Sansa stone-cold murdering Ramsey Fucking BotlonWhen it really disappointed you:I know its en vogue to hate on the show right now but honestly I thoroughly enjoyed season seven. I guess the most disappointing canonical event in the show was Shireen’s death, and the most disappointing book canon event has to be Jon’s “death” it was a cheap trick and i HONESTLY think it would have been more powerful if he stayed dead. I guess we TECHNICALLY don’t know that he’s alive in the books yet but c’mon he totes is. ALSO FUCKING RICKON in the show - that was a stupid fucking thing. But it was so out of left field I’m afraid it’s going to happen in the books too. Saddest moment:Arya chasing Nymeria away :( Most well done character death:For the show and the book I think it has to be Ned. Favourite guest star:Ian McShane Favourite cast member:Everybody.Character you wish was still alive:Show: Shireen and RickonBooks: Lady :( One thing you hope really happens:No more goddamn direwolves die Most shocking twist:Ned tied with the Red WeddingWhen did you start watching/reading?:My friend had me watch the first episode a couple days after it aired, and I really liked it so I got the first book and read it over the course of a week or so. Then I caught up on the episodes and watched it live. Then I read the rest of the books.Best animal/creature:Any of the direwolves. Also ice spiders the size of hounds.Favourite location:WinterfellTrope you wish they would stop using:Is subverting tropes a tropeOne thing this show/book/film does better than others:I think the books do a really fantastic job of forcing you to care about characters you don’t like. Honestly, I haven’t read the books in about three years, and I think I need to pick them back up because I’m gettinga little rustyFunniest moments:Show: The citadel chamberpot scene Books: Jon covered in flour acting like a ghost in the cryptsCouple you would like to see:Any of the couples I mentioned in the OTP question obvActor/Actress you want to join the cast:Okay what if Sean Bean came back and played someone else but nobody ever mentioned that he looked like ned starkFavourite outfit:Tie between Sansa’s Lady of Winterfell outfit and her all black outfit from season 4Favourite item:OathbreakerDo you own anything related to this show/book/film?:I have a Stark lapel pin, all the books, and probably some other merch I’m not remembering.What house/team/group/friendship group/family/race etc would you be in?:Personality-wise I think I’m more of a Tyrell but I would def be from the North. Most boring plotline:Books: I was pretty fucking tired of Daenerys until the very end of ADWDShow: DorneMost laughably bad moment:Arya v Sansa and the game of facesBest flashback/flashfoward if any: Maggie the Frog or the Tourney at Harrenhall Most layered character:At this point I think it’s got to be Jaime Most one dimensional character:RickonScariest moment:Ehhhhhh n/a? Nothing is really coming to mindGrossest moment:Show: Okay the Joffrey/Ros/Daisy abuse scene really unsettles me every timeBooks: Daenerys shitting diarrhea for like ten pages Best looking male:How am I supposed to pick between Oberyn, Robb, Drago, Jon, and Gendry?Best looking female:How am I supposed to pick between Missandei, Ygritte, Margaery, and Daenerys?Who you’re crushing on (if any):Literally everyoneFavourite cast moment:- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nxX92gMQLBI- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wgata3p4c2c- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6JIGyEEUT0- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DjTp0lfcgEEFavourite transportation:Dragons Most beautiful scene (scenery/shot wise):I always love shots of the wall and beyond the wallUnanswered question/continuity issue/plot error that bugs you:EXPLAIN TO ME HOW GENDRY RAN BACK TO EASTWATCH IN HALF THE TIME IT TOOK THEM TO GET THERE WITHOUT GETTING LOST OR KILLED. Best promo:I liked the one for season 7 with everyone yellingAt what point did you fall in love with this show/bookImmediately.

#game of thrones #ASOIAF #text post #tag

4 notes · View notes

lawonderlandwriter · 7 years

Text

Jon & Daenerys Facfic - Family Reveals

Okay so I’ve never written GoT fanfic before and I’m not sure I’ve used the right tags or anything or if there’s some sort of protocol for writing it. But I’ve been obsessed with Jonerys since season 7 started and writing this made me happy. So if anyone likes, you’re welcome to read.

This is an imagined scene from season 8 based on the season 7 spoilers. So if you haven’t read the spoilers, don’t read this. Hope people enjoy!

Sam hadn’t had a moment alone with the King in the North since his return to Winterfell several days ago. But this news couldn’t wait any longer. He and Bran decided this information needed to be delivered together, so they asked for a private audience with their King.

“I was told you wanted to see me,” Jon spoke, entering the Winterfell library. Bran and Sam exchanged a look that could only communicate to Jon that whatever they had to tell him, it was serious.

“You might want to sit down, Your Grace.” Jon stared at Sam for a moment, contemplating the term your grace. Even as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, his best friend had never addressed him so formally. Jon took his advice and sat down.

“What is it?” he asked carefully. Had they found out some new piece of information about the Night’s King? A way to defeat the dead?

“Jon.” It was Bran who spoke this time. Jon looked at him and was suddenly on edge. It was as if Bran was trying to communicate with his eyes to his older half brother. Trying to tell him all he needed to know. Trying to ask him the same thing Jon had wanted to ask of Daenerys the first time they met. Please believe me.

“You know,” Sam started slowly, “how Bran has visions now.”

“Yes…”

“The things Bran can see…they’re not just things that are happening. They’re things that have happened in the past.” Jon inhaled sharply, involuntarily. Sam paused.

“I wouldn’t have believed him when he told me. If it hadn’t been for something Gilly found in the old records at the Citadel, I would have thought it was nonsense.” Sam paused again and turned to retrieve a piece of parchment from the desk behind him. It was an old Raven’s scroll. Probably twenty years old by the look of it. The edges were brown and worn with time. The writing faint, but readable. Sam handed it to Jon without another word.

Jon read. The marriage of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell has been annulled. Prince Rhaegar has married Lady Lyanna Stark and the two have taken up residence at the Tower of Joy.

“My aunt Lyanna…” Jon stammered. All these years he’d heard tales of Rhaegar Targaryen, Daenerys’s brother. How he’d been an evil, vile man. How he had kidnapped his aunt Lyanna and raped her. Holding her prisoner as Robert waged war to get her back.

“So Rhaegar forced her to marry him?” Jon asked uncertain. But even as he said it, he knew it was wrong. He felt it.

“No,” Bran answered quietly. “I saw them run away together. I saw their wedding. Lyanna was in love with him too.”

Jon wasn’t sure why but he felt tears sting his eyes. All this time. The reign of King Robert, his father’s best friend, had rested on a lie. The rebellion Robert started to kill Rhaegar and get Lyanna back…it was all for nothing. Even if Robert had gotten to Lyanna before she died of fever, she wouldn’t have been his anyway.

“I wonder if father knew,” Jon said quietly, almost to himself. Sam stole a glance at Bran then, worry etched into his plump face.

“There’s something else Bran has seen as well.” Jon looked up at his little brother, wondering what other lies he may have grown up believing.

“Lyanna didn’t die of a fever, Jon.” At this, Jon’s heart beat unnaturally hard. A million scenarios were flying through his mind. Had Robert actually found Lyanna? Had he known she loved Rhaegar instead? Had he killed her himself? And if he had, did his father, the honorable Eddard Stark, cover it all up?

“She died giving birth.” Jon froze. His brain was taking an achingly long time to catch up with everything, but his body wasn’t. His skin erupted in cold sweat, his breaths coming faster and faster as his chest heaved underneath his leathers, his heart slamming into the walls of his chest. What did Bran mean?

“Father was there with her when she died. She made him promise.”

“Promise what?” Jon asked, not even realizing the words were tumbling out of his mouth as he spoke.

“Promise to keep you safe,” Bran said simply.

Jon stood up so fast he knocked his chair backward in his haste. He turned around wildly, looking for something that wasn’t there. Looking for his father. This couldn’t be. Jon was the bastard of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North. He was a Snow. He would always be a Snow.

“Don’t you know what this means?” Sam asked, his voice a little lighter. Jon couldn’t look at either of them so he walked to the fireplace and stared hard into the flames. “You’re not a bastard, Jon. You are the true born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The Rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“No.” Jon got out. He didn’t even want to be King in the North. He wasn’t meant to rule anything, let alone the entire realm. Daenerys was the Rightful Queen. And after they defeat the Night King and the army of the dead, that’s exactly what she’d do.

“Your mother named you before she died,” Bran spoke again. At this, Jon turned around. He was Jon Snow. He had always been Jon Snow. Jon Targaryen just didn’t sound right. It didn’t fit.

“Father called you Jon to protect you from Robert. But your real name, the name Lyanna gave you, is Aegon. Aegon Targaryen.”

“It wouldn’t have worked, you see,” Sam continued while Jon’s mind reeled. “His plan to raise you as his bastard, to keep you safe from Robert. It wouldn’t have worked if he called you by your true name. Robert wanted all the Targaryen’s ended. He wouldn’t have been pleased if his best friend had named his bastard son after one of them.”

Jon didn’t feel his knees buckle but he felt them hit the hard wooden floor. His hands flew out in front of him to steady his body and prevent him from falling face first into the flames. Aegon Targaryen. The son of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. None of it made sense. Daenerys was the last Targaryen. She had told him so the first time they had ever met. Daenerys. Rhaegar’s little sister who was born well after her brother had died. Daenerys, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Daenerys, Dany, the woman he had made love to weeks before on the ship from Dragonstone.

“Daenerys,” Jon whispered gazing into the flames. The tears streamed hot down his face but the longer he stared into the fire, the more his heart steadied. Tiny moments flashed before his eyes. The day on Dragonstone when he had laid his eyes on his first dragon. Walking into the audience chamber in the castle and looking upon Queen Daenerys. Dany returning from defeating the Lannister forces and Drogon letting him touch him. His father, Ned, telling him as they departed for their separate journeys, the last time he ever laid eyes on his face, that when they met again, Ned would tell Jon all about his mother. A meeting that never happened. Catelyn Stark hating him growing up. The whispers around the castle that, whoever Jon’s mother had been, Ned must have loved her fiercely to keep him around and raise him with his true born children. It was true.

“Jon, there’s one last thing,” Bran’s voice broke through Jon’s memories and he turned to see Sam giving Bran a quizative look. What more could they possibly have to tell him?

Jon’s steps were determined as he headed for the Lord’s chamber. Crossing the Winterfell grounds he wondered briefly where Ghost was but then the answer came to him, it was so obvious. He’d be with her.

“Your Grace, Queen Daenerys has asked for privacy for the moment. Maester Wolkken is with her now.” But Jon knew that wasn’t necessary.

Jon pushed past the guards who merely gave him stern looks, but did not dare try to stop their King. He opened the door to Daenerys’s room and was brought back to the night on the ship. The night it had happened.

Dany met his gaze from the center of the bed, looking small amongst the heavy furs and the direwolf. Ghost lifted his head from her belly and turned apprehensively to Jon, not sure whether to greet him or treat him as a threat. Maester Wolkken stood in the corner of the room collecting various objects and putting them back in his pockets. He stopped at the sight of Jon.

“It’s true.” He said, walking to Daenerys who was eyeing him nervously.

“Jon, what do you m–”

He grabbed her face as he sank heavily onto the bed and kissed her as he had never done before. She wrapped her arms around him as the truth passed between them and he could feel the tears leaking from her eyes onto his face.

He broke away from her but only just. Their foreheads were still touching. “I thought you said it was impossible?” he spoke quietly, laying a hand on her stomach which was still warm from Ghost’s weight.

“I thought it was,” Dany whispered back. “After Rhego I thought…” Jon kissed her again, hearing the sadness in her voice at the mention of her son, willing his kiss to take that sadness away from her.

“You make impossible things happen,” he smiled. Dany looked up into his eyes and knew that wasn’t quite right.

“No. I think you did.” She covered his hand on her stomach with her own and kissed his cheek lightly.

Jon grew up believing he was the bastard son of Eddard Stark and a nameless woman he would never know. He grew up believing he would never marry and never father children so he wouldn’t have to watch them grow up and be called Snow. He joined the Night’s Watch to ensure such a fate would never befall him. Of course when he was younger he dreamed of being a true born son. He dreamed of being a knight, a prince, riding dragons and rescuing princesses, of being a leader and a hero. But it was all fantasy, or so he thought.

“And you,” Jon said turning to Ghost. The direwolf still sat on the bed directly next to Daenerys, guarding her. “You knew the whole time.” Jon reached over and roughed up his fur, scratching him behind his ears and the direwolf relaxed entirely, knowing his master’s intentions were pure.

“He did, didn’t he?” Dany said, her voice full of wonder. She reached over and pet him too, absentmindedly. “Jon, how did you know? Before you walked in, you knew, already, what I was still struggling to comprehend. How did you know?”

Jon turned and looked about the room. Maester Wolkken had quietly shown himself out some time ago. They were alone. Still, he did not want to be disturbed telling her this. He got up, crossed to the door and bolted it shut for good measure.

“I have something to tell you.”

Daenerys hadn’t spoken for several minutes. Jon allowed her the silence to absorb the information he was still processing himself. Was she angry with him? Did she think he’d want the Iron Throne for himself once they defeated the Night’s King? Did she even believe him at all? Jon barely believed it himself. He had learned of two new families in a single day. It sounded crazy. It sounded impossible.

“I thought for years, after Viserys died, that I was the last Targaryen.” Jon tensed. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this but he knew, given their new and unexpected circumstances, that he had to reassure her.

“You are my Queen, Daenerys. After we defeat the Night’s King, you are the one who will sit on the Iron Throne. And my only wish is to serve you faithfully. And protect you.” Jon didn’t realize how hard he was breathing until he stopped talking. Please believe me, he thought.

“I thought I was the last Targaryen,” she said again. Then her eyes finally met his. She grabbed his hand and pulled it back down to her stomach where their child was quietly growing. “Now there are three of us.”

She rested her head on his chest and settled into him, the stresses of the last few weeks taking their toll. Jon sighed and climbed onto the bed fully clothed, as the last light of the day disappeared. They hadn’t been together since arriving at Winterfell. Jon slept apart from her so as not to arouse suspicion. But tonight, he no longer cared. If only for tonight, he knew he needed to be with his family.

#jonerys #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #jonerys baby #tower of joy #jonerys fanfic #got8 fanfic #game of thrones fanfic

13 notes · View notes

anotherererifanshippingcorner · 7 years

Text

Teacher/student AU - ereri week day #2

Another thing happened. God, I think I got carried away with the messages part of the OS? Sorry, but it was really fun to write!!

Rating: General Audience

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin

Pairing: Eren Jaeger/Levi Ackerman

Word count: 1727

Additional tags: Alternative Universe - Modern Setting, College Professor!Eren, Student!Levi, College AU, Teacher/Student AU

Summary: One Shot for ereri summer week 2017, Teacher/Student AU

Holydays were always welcomed, but that year in particular they couldn’t have been sweeter than in any other time in his college career. He usually didn’t move anywhere for the occasion -the dorms remained open and his house back in Trost mostly empty since he and his sister had been old enough to stay on their own. Now, the worst part of his friends had already abandoned the field to migrate back to their families. No Hanji, no Isabel, no Erwin -and that meant PCQ, damn Izzy for twisting his mind with those atrocious acronym. Peace. Calm. Quietness. Farlan still had work and thus couldn’t follow her to her parents’ house, so the both of them were stuck together for the rest of the year. Or so his friends believed. They didn’t know much about Levi’s plans, just that he was probably going to spend his free time between the library and his room, maybe to the bar where Farlan worked, too -Isabel had ordered her boyfriend to drag their mutual friend out of his dorm-hole any time he could-, but they were up for a surprise. Levi was, in fact, packing what he needed to spend his holydays elsewhere. He had waited specifically for them to be gone before delivering the news, so not to be present when hell would inevitably break loose. His phone kept dinging with incoming messages, and he simply checked his bag and stuff before deeming himself ready to go. He closed the door to his room with the key and descended the staircase, heading to the reception desk and nodding at Riko’s way. “I thought you were going to stay here. Going home, in the end?” “No. I’ll be in town, just not here.” “Mmh. Suspicious.” Levi rolled his eyes and didn’t offer a reply. Instead, he left his key on the desk and made his farewells, turning and exiting the building. He tightened almost immediately his hold on his scarf, shivering slightly. Winter was a bitch, and it came as a typhoon that year (it was probably worst there than in Winterfell, Jon Snow be damned), without giving people in the little Stohess time to adjust to the hard and sudden weather. Levi liked this season of the year, but only when he wasn’t forced to face it -preferably in his warm room, with a cup of tea and a book. He saw a bench and sat down, arranging his bag next to him and waiting for his lift to come. Looking down at the phone in his hand, he checked the group chat and got comfortable for what was to come. Shit for brains [09:27] Why our leprechaun is not answering?!?!?! Shit fro brains [09:27] Do you think he got lost in the city?!?! Maybe he is inside a snowman and some kid is keeping him prisoner!! Shit for brains [09:27] Squad Levi to the rescueeee Red pigtails [09:27] Hanji! Stop calling him that! You know how annoying he gets! He is going to be fine! Shit for brains [09:28] Buuuuuuuut Red pigtails [09:29] No. He can take care of himself. Red pigtails [09:29] More or less. Red pigtails [09:29] How is the Christmas tree’s decoration challenge turning out? Shit for brains [09:30] I know what you’re doing, Izzy. Shit for brains [09:30] Stop trying to manipulate my attention. Shit for brains [09:30] Now. Shit for brains [09:30] IT’S GREAT!! You should see it! Never has a Christmas tree had more photos hanging down from its branches than this! It’s beautiful! So many Erwin’s and Levi’s and Izzy’s and Farlan’s, you’re all so cute!! Red pigtails [09:31] Well, I guess you won. Shit for brains [09:31] Damn hell I did!

Levi was not sure what he was reading, really. How were they his friends he still didn’t know.

Red pigtails [09:31] You should send us a photo! Shit for brains [09:32] I will when I’ll get home! Shit for brains [09:41] Do you think Farlan is with Levi already? Red pigtails [09:43] Hanji!! Stop torturing him! Shit for brains [09:43] I’m not “torturing him”, I’m worried! Red pigtails [09:43] We know you, you don’t just “get worried” over Levi. Shit for brains [09:43] But he is going to be alone! For Christmas! Red pigtails [09:43] Uuh… Shit for brains [09:44] Yes!! UUUH!! Red pigtails [09:44] Now I’m feeling like a shitty friend. Shit for brains [09:45] THAT’S WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT Shit for brains [09:45] WHAT HAVE WE DONNNNNNNNEEEEEEE Levi [09:45] I can hear your screams from here Shit for brains [09:45] LEVI!! MY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE DORK!! Red pigtails [09:45] Ehi there, big bro! We were talking about you! Levi [09:46] Yeah, I can tell Red pigtails [09:46] Sorry, you know how Hanji gets… Shit for brains [09:46] LEVI!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING Shit for brains [09:46] ARE YOU ALONE Shit for brains [09:46] IS EVERYTHING OKAY?! Levi [09:47] Yes, HANJI, please stop whining Levi [09:47] Actually Levi [09:47] I’m waiting for someone to pick me up Red pigtails [09:47] What Shit for brains [09:47] WHAT Shit for brains [09:47] WHAT Shit for brains [09:47] EXPLAAAAIN Shit for brains [09:47] OR ELSE I’LL BE YOUR PERSONAL DALEK Red pigtails [09:47] It can’t be Farlan, he is working Levi [09:47] It’s not Farlan Red pigtails [09:47] So Red pigtails [09:48] Big bro? Red pigtails [09:49] Levi? Shit for brains [09:51] LEVI I SWEAR TO GID IF YOU DON’T ANSWER I’M GOING TO GO BACK YO THE DORMS AND SPIT ON YOUR BED Levi [09:52] Jesus, you’re disgusting. I was on the phone. Levi [09:52] And watch you typing, moron. I’m going to spend the holydays with Eren Shit for brains [09:52] EREN? EREN, WHO’S EREN Red pigtails [09:52] Omg you didN’T Shit for brains [09:52] WHO’S EREN Shit for brains [09:52] I’M FEELING LEFT BEHIND Shit for brains [09:52] IS HE YOUR BOYFRIEND Shit for brains [09:53] LEVI IS HE YOUR BOYFRIEND Shit for brains [09:53] I’M SO GOING TO SPIT PN YOUR BED Shit for brains [09:53] ON* Red pigtails [09:53] Levi tell me you didn’t Red pigtails [09:53] I thought you were jocking!! Shit for brains [09:53] EXPLAIN NOW I’M GOING MAD HERE Red pigtails [09:53] Eren as in Professor Jaeger Red pigtails [09:53] He told me he was going to confess but Red pigtails [09:54] I didn’t think he was for real!!!!! Shit for brains [09:54] OH MY GGGGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDD Shit for brains [09:54] YOU. DIDN’T. Caterpies [09:54] What’s going on here? Shit for brains [09:54] ERWIN Shit for brains [09:54] THANK GOD Shit for brains [09:54] SDKGPOSJKDPOGJHSR Red pigtails [09:54] I feel betrayed Shit for brains [09:54] LEVI IS GOING TO SPEBD THE HOLUDAYS WITH HIS PEOFESSOR Red pigtails [09:54] How could you not tell us?!?! ME?!!!???! Shit for brains [09:54] SPEND* Shit for brains [09:55] HOLYDAYS* Shit for brains [09:55] PROFWSSOR* Shit for brains [09:55] PROFESSOR* Shit for brains [09:55] SHIT Red pigtails [09:55] I can’t believe it Caterpies [09:55] Levi? Is that true? Levi [09:55] Mh Shit for brains [09:56] YOU TRAITOR Shit for brains [09:56] HOW COME YOU WAITED SO LONG TO TROLL US?!?! Shit for brains [09:56] TELL* Caterpies [09:56] I think he did it on purpose, so that we couldn’t say anything to him in person. Red pigtails [09:56] OF COURSE HE DID Red pigtails [09:56] BIG BRO Red pigtails [09:56] YOU SO DON’T WANT TO SEE ME RIGHT KNOW Red pigtails [09:56] I’M GOING TO KILL YOU Caterpies [09:57] Can someone send me a photo of this Professor of his? Caterpies [09:57] Is he much older than you, Levi? Levi [09:57] Not by much. He is 31. Red pigtails [09:57] AND HE IS HOT. LEVI HAS BEEN DROOLING ON HIM FOR YEARS. Levi [09:57] He is not my professor anymore, you know Shit for brains [09:57] SO YOU JUMPED ON HIM? Levi [09:57] Pretty much, yeah Red pigtails [09:58] Omg! Shit for brains [09:58] OMG!!!!!!! Caterpies [09:58] Mh, congratulations? Levi [09:58] Thanks. Gotta go, he’s here. Shit for brains [09:58] WERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINJ YOU’RE GOING Red pigtails [09:58] YOU JUST NEED TO TRY… Shit for brains [09:58] COME BACK HERE Shit for brains [09:58] LEVI Red pigtails [09:58] DON’T SHUT YOUR PHONE ON US LIKE THIS, YOU DUMBASS!! Caterpies [09:58] Have fun, I guess!

Levi hid a smile behind his scarf and turned his phone in silent mode, putting it into his bag when he saw Eren’s car stop in front of the dorms. He opened the passenger door and got in, slamming it almost immediately to preserve the pleasant warmth of the vehicle. He turned around and found the older man staring at him with a calm smile, eyes boring into his with too much intensity and nervousness for the distance between them. “Hi.” “Hi to you. You’re early.” “Barely, just a couple of minutes. Besides, you were already waiting outside.” “What can I say, I was impatient.” Eren grinned at him. “To see me?” Levi wanted to retort with some kind of joke, and as much as he loved playing with Eren’s occasional naivety, I didn’t want to ruin the moment. “That and spending the following two weeks in a real apartment.” “I knew you were after my wealth, jeez.” “It’s not like you’re rich, stupid. If anything, I’m after your body.” “That’s for sure.” “Mmh.” Levi leaned over the console and raised his arms toward Eren, running his hands along the dark green button down’s collar, over his shoulder in a slow, teasing caress, then down on his chest, following his own movements with his eyes, before stopping on his hips. He looked up, smiling at the ardent, breath-consuming gaze Eren was giving him, charging the air around them with a well-known electricity to the couple. ”Are you testing me?” ”Not really. And anyway, it’s not like I would even have to try that hard.” ”True.” Pulling back, Levi’s hand brushed Eren’s crotch and he heard the sudden intake of breath of the older one. He feigned indifference. “Let’s go, before I do something very, very stupid in front of my job place and get fired for it.” Levi’s lips curved upward. “We wouldn’t want that, yeah. Let’s go.” Eren breathed in sharply, then turned toward the wheel and started the car. Waiting for the holydays had been hell, but Levi was finally ready for heaven to come and stay for two, blissful weeks.

#ererievents #ererisummer2017 #ereriauweek #teacher student au #day 2 #ereri #my writing #OS #i did another thing #still late

19 notes · View notes

quotespicture · 5 years

Photo

https://quoteswithpicture.com/70-famous-movie-quotes-from-your-favorite-characters-2019/

70 Famous Movie Quotes From Your Favorite Characters (2019)

Our latest collection of famous movie quotes to help you see life through different perspectives.

Watching movies has many benefits. Movies provoke all kinds of emotions. Watching films can be a thrilling experience that makes you cry, smile, relax, and even help you become aware of your fears.

Besides the entertainment value they bring, movies also help create awareness about various issues in society such as religious animosities and political intolerance.

Moreover, movies can be a great educational resource for students. They’re great for visual learners and they allow students to see life through different perspectives.

After searching the web here are some of the famous movie quotes we could find! We hope you’re inspired, motivated and entertained! Enjoy!

Famous movie quotes from your favorite characters

1.) “Some people can’t believe in themselves until someone else believes in them first.” – Sean Maguire, Good Will Hunting

2.) “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.” – Fight Club, Tyler Durden

3.) It is not our abilities that show what we truly are… it is our choices. – Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

4.) “Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out? – Movie “What a girl wants”

5.) “Oh yes, the past can hurt. But you can either run from it, or learn from it.” – Rafiki, from The Lion King

6.) “I love you. I am who I am because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I’ve ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, everyday we are together is the greatest day of my life. I will always be yours. – The Notebook

7.) “The truth is… I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart… and I never really got it back. – Reese Witherspoon, Sweet Home Alabama

8.) “The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds. And that’s what you’ve given me. That’s what I’d hoped to give you forever. – Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

9.) “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. – From Moulin Rouge”

10.) “Do, or do not. There is no “”try””. – Yoda

Famous movie quotes that will get you fired up

11.) “I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw. I’m scared of what I did, of who I am…. and most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.” – “Baby” in Dirty Dancing”

12.) “Sometimes I wish I had never met you. Because then I could go to sleep at night not knowing there was someone like you out there. – Good Will Hunting

13.) “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. – Ferris, from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

14.) “Remember those posters that said, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life”? Well, that’s true of every day but one…the day you die.” – American Beauty

15.) “You’re nothing to me until you’re everything.” – “American Hustle

16.) “Every man dies, not every man really lives.” – Braveheart

17.) “The truth is a matter of circumstances, it’s not all things to all people all the time.” – Captain America: The Winter Soldier

18.) “I believe whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you…stranger.” – The Dark Knight, The Joker

19.) “When you decide to be something, you can be it.” – Frank Costello, The Departed

20.) “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. But if you give him a mask, he will tell you the truth.” – The Fifth Estate, Julian Assange

Famous movie quotes that will brighten your day

21.) “Ideals are peaceful. History is violent.” – Don Collier, Fury

22.) “When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it, always.” – Gandhi, Gandhi (1982)

23.) “All those moments will be lost in time… like tears in rain.” – Rutger Hauer, Blade Runner

24.) “A boy’s best friend is his mother.” Anthony Perkins, Psycho

25.) ““Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.” – Robin Williams, Dead Poets Society

26.) “Get busy living, or get busy dying.” – Andy Dufresne, The Shawshank Redemption

27.) “Hope. It is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective. A lot of hope is dangerous. A spark is fine, as long as it’s contained.” – President Snow, The Hunger Games

28.) “If you figure a way to live without serving a master, any master, then let the rest of us know, will you? For you’d be the first person in the history of the world.” – Philip Seymour Hoffman, The Master

29.) “Nobody’s perfect.” – Some Like It Hot

Famous movie quotes to help you see life through different perspectives

30.) “Now you’re looking for the secret, but you won’t find it, because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled.” – The Prestige

31.) “To call you stupid would be an insult to stupid people!” – A Fish Called Wanda

32.) “We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness, not by each other’s misery.” – Charlie Chaplin, The Great Dictator

33.) “There’s no place like home.” The Wizard of Oz

34.) “They may take our lives, but they will never take… our FREEDOM!” – Braveheart

35.) Do, or do not. There is no “try”. – Yoda, Star Wars

36.) Love cannot be found where it doesn’t exist, nor can it be hidden where it truly does. – David Schwimmer, Kissing a Fool

37.) Don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want. – Heath Ledger, 10 Things I Hate About You

Famous movie quotes to entertain and educate

38.) I don’t regret the things I’ve done, but those I did not do. – Empire Records

39.) My momma always said, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.” – Forrest Gump

40.) Don’t ever let somebody tell you you can’t do something, not even me. Alright? You dream, you gotta protect it. People can’t do something themselves, they wanna tell you you can’t do it. If you want something, go get it. Period. – Chris Gardner, The Pursuit of Happyness

41.) To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, to draw closer, to find each other and to feel. That is the purpose of life.” – The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

42.) “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” – Gandalf, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

43.) “Great men are not born great, they grow great.” – Mario Puzo, The Godfather

Famous movie quotes to help you reach your full potential

44.) “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. What do we do? We swim, swim.” – Dory, Finding Nemo

45.) “What we do in life echoes in eternity.” – Maximus, Gladiator

46.) “Every man dies, but not every man really lives.” – William Wallace, Braveheart

47.) “I know what I have to do now. I’ve got to keep breathing because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?” – Cast Away

48.) “”Nobody is gonna hit as hard as life, but it ain’t how hard you can hit. It’s how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. It’s how much you can take, and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done.” – Rocky, Rocky Balboa

Famous movie quotes from award winning films

49.) “You drilled a hole in the dentist?!” – Denise, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

50.) “If you were not so stubborn you would make a great queen.” “I would make a great queen because I am stubborn…if that is what I wanted.”—from an exchange between T’Challa and Nakia, Black Panther

51.) “Being human is a condition which requires an anesthetic.” – Freddie Mercury, Bohemian Rhapsody

52.) “Dying for the right cause. It’s the most human thing we can do.” — Freysa, Blade Runner 2049

53.) “Fire. It is a reflection of our own mortality.” – Dean Armitage, Get Out

54.) “When will the lesson be learned! You cannot reason with a tiger when your head is in its mouth!” – Winston Churchill, Darkest Hour

55.) “We Shall Never Surrender.” – Soldier, Dunkirk

56.) “All the courage in the world cannot alter fact.” — Niander Wallace, Blade Runner 2049

57.) “How many times do I have to teach you: just because something works doesn’t mean it can’t be improved.”—Shuri, Black Panther

58.) “So if I’m not black enough and if I’m not white enough, then tell me, Tony, what am I!?” – Don Shirley, Green Book

59.) “Favor is a breeze that shifts direction all the time.” – Harley, The Favourite

60.) “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” – Neil Armstrong, First Man

More quotes from famous actors and actresses

61.) “Show me the money!” – Jerry Maguire

62.) “The only failure is not to try” – George Clooney

63.) “Don’t be afraid to fail. It’s not the end of the world and in many ways it’s the first step toward learning something better and getting better at it” –Jon Hamm

64.) “After many years of self-flagellation, I’ve realized that beating myself up doesn’t get me anywhere” – Chris Pine

65.) “Your regrets aren’t what you did, but what you didn’t do. So I take every opportunity” – Cameron Diaz

66.) “I’ve come across many actors like me who didn’t have a backup. That drive & will made it work” – Clive Owen

67.) “I say luck is when an opportunity comes along and you’re prepared for it” – Denzel Washington

68.) “The best way to guarantee a loss is to quit” – Morgan Freeman

69.) “I’m a big believer in ‘never say never’ ” – Jim Parsons

70.) “Be so good they can’t ignore you” ~ Steve Martin

What were your favorite movie quotes?

Most of us watch films for enjoyment, but movies also have great health and educational value. You’ll find most films to be not only entertaining but also educative regardless of your social status.

Everyone has a favorite movie line. Hopefully, the above quotes will make your day better and motivate you to reach your full potential.

Did you enjoy these movie quotes? Which famous movie quote resonated with you best? Tell us in the comment section below. We would love to hear all about it.

#2019 #70 #Characters #Famous #Favorite #Movie #movie quotes #Quotes

0 notes

Last Seen Blogs

automationharrogate

Danny Hudson

ziorobi

Senza titolo

old-fashioned-screencaps

aw yeah

em3inka

[ red hook tardif ][ EM3 ]

sexyslabofmeat07