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@ofhighever continued from here~

SHE WAS GRATEFUL FOR THE help getting on the horse. She was tired, and cold, and had she said TIRED? While under Ramsay’s… CARE, she had slept very little, always afraid he would come to her bed when she was not aware. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Theon had ALSO gotten onto a horse, before putting her heels in the animal’s side and urging it forward.

“My brother?” She repeated in a surprised whisper. “I do not have brothers anymore.” What was this woman talking about? Bran and Rickon were dead. Robb was dead. Jon was at the Wall. Was it Jon she was being taken to? She did not think it would be so. What could Jon do to protect her? He was a Brother of the Night’s Watch.

“Do not play jokes, my Lady, please…” She murmured. “I have lost so many of my family already. In fact, I have lost all. I could not bear to be played such a cruel prank upon.” She glanced back at Theon, still with a look of confusion on her features. Though he also did not seem to know what this stranger was speaking of. The news that had reached them both at Winterfell was that Robb had fallen at the Twins, together with their Lady mother. “Where are you really taking us, please?”

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@tymptir

The number of people that had traveled to Winterfell had been insane. The first couple of days, Sansa had attempted to remember the names of those who passed through the Keep, and the Houses they belonged to if they had any, but it had all gotten to be a jumbled mess in the end, and she had resigned herself to smiling and nodding. Eventually, she had to excuse herself, leaving the introductions to Jon and Daenerys, and stepping outside. The wind was icy cold and bit into every bit of exposed skin, but she relished the feeling. It felt like home. If she closed her eyes, she could even see her parents.

She had closed her eyes for a moment, turning her face up at the sky, feeling the few snowflakes that were coming down, touching her skin, a smile appearing on her features. She had spent too much time either South or in captivity, and she thoroughly enjoyed every moment she could spend free, in the snow, among her surviving siblings.

When she opened her eyes once more and turned her gaze forward, she saw a somewhat familiar face staring back at her. They had not yet met, but Arya had pointed the man out to her before. Had told Sansa the story of how they had met. She smiled, picking up her skirts and walking closer. “Gendry, is it not?” She asked, arching an eyebrow. “You are my sister’s companion.”

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@azmenka

To Maron Greyjoy,

My brother told me that I am to be wed to you. And before that day arrives, I wanted to know my future husband, for I know very little of you, besides that you are Theon’s brother. And perchance tell you a little more about myself, for I also doubt you know much about me, save for what my brother told you.

I have heard many stories about your home, Pyke, from Theon, so I would like to think I can picture what it looks like. I would like to know more about the place I am to live though. I know there is no Godswood, for it cannot take root on the rocky ground, Are there flowers though? Is there greenery?

Winterfell has beautiful flowers growing all over the courtyard during spring, though now that Winter is coming, most of them are buried beneath the snow. {Maybe we could come visit}

I am quite unsure of what I should be asking of a future husband, but I would like to know more about you before we are to be wed. My brother says you are a good soldier, but I do not think that is useful information for me to know, seeing as I am not a soldier. He also said you are a good man, I think that is far more useful to know. Though my brother and I might have different opinions on what that means.

Theon has also told me things about his siblings, about you. Not all of these stories were flattering, and they seem to clash with my brother’s opinion that you are a good man.

So what I am trying to figure out, is who you are, really. What kind of man you are. You met my late husband, so I hope you understand my hesitance.

Of course, if there is ever something you wished to know about me, I would be glad to divulge that information. I am to be your wife, after all. I shall start by telling you a few things about me that I think are important. You already know I have been wed before, to Ramsay {Bolton} {Snow} Bolton. Ramsay was not a kind man, quite the opposite. Robb told me you aided in his capture, I am grateful for that. Had it not been for you and him, I might still be wed to that vile man.

I used to believe in stories of knights and the Ladies they saved from monsters, though I never expected it to be in this capacity. I had imagined dragons as the monsters, not another man. Though I guess that means you are my knight. That just sounds silly now.

You probably think me to be a silly girl, and perchance I am, talking of knights and monsters and the stories I used to be told. I cannot say if I am, though I hope this does not turn you off of the idea of marriage.

I do believe I could be a good wife to you. I hope you feel the same way.

Sansa Stark Warden of the North

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@gcdgrey

She knocked and entered the chamber, sighing as she closed it behind her. “Jon…” She said, folding her hands in front of her body, only barely able to make out his face in the semi-darkness, behind the candles that were on the desk. She was unsure as to why he had sent for her. The servant had said ‘to discuss where things stood’, but he was the King in the North. Did he really need her opinion on the matter? Or was it just to tell her how things were going to be?

She stepped further into the room and sat down in the chair across from her brother - was he still her brother though? Cousin was perhaps more apt, seeing as he and her did not share parents. He still felt like her brother though, which was one of the reasons she was not afraid to speak out against his behavior.

“You have handed over Winterfell and the North to a Targaryen.” It was not a question, but a statement, and she did not yet look at him, staring at a point on the table in between them. “Our brother lost his life defending the North and our rights, and you hand it all over to a Targaryen.” She looked up finally, looking him in the eyes, her Tully blue eyes burning with anger and confusion. “You have not forgotten who it was that killed our Uncle Brandon and Lord grandfather, I hope?”

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@hestands from Sansa Stark.

Her gaze moved to the man moving through across the grounds. She had heard the stories, of course, of why he had been exiled by her Lord father. But she had also heard the stories of what had happened after he had left Westeros. Both the good and the bad. How he had found Daenerys, had stayed by her side, yet had also betrayed her at some point, and had been sent away again? Though here he was once more… There had been so many stories, she had trouble keeping them separated.

It meant not she was not curious about the man who seemed to have wriggled his way back into their Dragon Queen’s graces. Their she thought, despite not truly trusting the silver-haired Queen. It would not do anyone, especially not her, any good to voice those thoughts.

No, but she did want to know more about him. Especially because he was a Northerner. Especially because, due to all the different stories, she was unsure if he could be trusted.

So, she gathered her skirts and made her way towards him through the ankle-high snow that was still left in some places in the courtyard. “Ser Jorah Mormont,” she said as she stepped up behind him. “I do not think my father would have ever imagined you would walk through Winterfell again.” She inclined her head. “I am glad we have you though.”

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@aforgottenpride

The ride up to Riverrun had been a long one, and Sansa was looking forward to getting off the horse and - especially - sleeping in a soft feather bed once more. On the other hand, she was terrified. Terrified that someone was going to recognize her despite the fact that Petyr Baelish had her hair dyed brown.

As they had been nearing the Eyrie, Sansa Alayne had almost gotten a neck-cramp trying to see the top of the structure. And now that they had finally gotten to the castle where her aunt, the Lady Lysa Tully of the Eyrie, lived with her sons, she got vertigo looking down at the path they had followed up.

She allowed Petyr to usher her into the High Hall, pushing her hood back off of her hair, and looked up at the people on and surrounding the High Seat of the Arryns. There were only a handful, and she immediately recognized her aunt Lysa. Though her own mother had been far more beautiful, she could see the likeness between the sisters.

Curtsying before her family, she glanced up through her lashes.

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@dornishzaldrizes

She had not known that she had needed a new handmaiden, and yet, a new girl had been brought before her. She had been told that the girl came from a highborn family, but was not told which family. She had not even been told the girl’s given name.

Sansa had stayed in her bedchambers that day, not quite interested in facing any one else today, and waiting for her new handmaiden.

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@withanarmy

Sansa was unsure how long exactly she had been with Littlefinger now, it felt so much longer than it presumably was in reality, but if she were to hazard a guess, it had been about a Moon’s turn since they had left King’s Landing and had boarded the ship. And it had been about two weeks since Littlefinger and Lysa’s marriage and their departure of the Fingers.

They only consisted of a small party that was gathered around the three of them as they approached the Bloody Gate. Petyr Baelish had already told her about the way up to the Eyrie, how they would first pass the Gate and then travel on to the Gates of the Moon. From her teachings, back at Winterfell - almost a lifetime ago, she remembered the Houses and people who ruled these places. Her uncle Brynden Tully used to be the Knight of the Gate, but he had resigned to ride back to Riverrun, and now it was Ser Donnel Waynwood that commanded the gate. And Lord Nestor Royce was the Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, keeping the castle going and keeping it ready for the Arryns when they descended Giant’s Lance in preparation for Winter.

Their party rode up to the Bloody Gate and a voice called out down to them. “Who would pass the Bloody Gate?!” Sansa’s aunt Lysa pushed back the hood of her cloak and showed her face. “The Lady Lysa Arryn would pass the Bloody Gate!” She called back and immediately, the gates creaked and rumbled as they opened before them, a single man ahorse meeting them halfway.

“Lady Arryn!” The man called out as he rode towards them. “A man claiming to be your nephew has arrived yesterday. We did not allow him to go ahead, but kept him here for you to decide.” Lysa looked at Petyr and he looked at Sansa Alayne (she needed to mind herself). She was unsure who this person was supposed to be. Robb, Rickon and Bran were all dead and Jon was at the Wall, not even a true nephew of aunt Lysa, for he was her father’s bastard.

“What kind of sick jape is this?” Lysa demanded as they all dismounted. “Take us to this man.”

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