━ in which; Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, receives a raven from across the sea, speaking of how her dear sister had come into contact with another race of people from the mysterious, rumoured magic of the sea on Arya's desire to answer the age o...
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❝ my skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. ❞
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Sansa sat upon the wooden chair, spine pressed into dire wolves carved into the chair. Not the throne, not her throne in the great hall. No, the great chair in the Lord's solar, or perhaps now it would be the Queen's solar. Yet in her mind, the office still belonged to her father. It was not hers. If it passed into her office, it would mean he was gone. He wasn't gone. He was in the crypts, his soul roaming the afterlife with the kings of winter and the rest of the family. Perhaps occasionally visiting the keep as a benevolent spirit, watching over her and the staff.
The fire burned in the hearth and if she ignored the shining white of the winter sun, that had lasted almost a week straight of pure light. The long sun following the long night. Winter would be over. Winter crops would be harvested, then land rested for a month before the spring crops would be planted. Or so Sansa had been assured after organising and checking with the castellan, stewards and farmers. If she ignored the fears of famine and lack of manpower eating at her stomach, and simply staring into the flames, listening to the crackle of wood, allowing it to drag her into memories of the past.
One scene was running through her mind, of the innocent children of Eddard Stark, before everything went wrong, and they were beginning to explore the world around them. She remembered that day like it was yesterday. Back when her and Arya were little, so young and innocent to the ways of the world. Before their characteristics and the differing relationships with their father, mother, and brothers truly developed into their sisterly discord and they knew of no dangers in the world that Ned Stark could not solve.
Sansa was approximately seven, a spoiled girl blessed with her mother's fiery red hair infused with most of the Tully lineage. Still, she had only started lessons, the southern Septa and Ned's steward, Vayon Poole's daughter, Jeyne Poole and her influence was only just introduced to the young Lady and her younger sister, four year old Arya. Small, dark haired and filled with the wolfs blood that gifte her a wild spirit like the Children of the forest.
