[there had been another figure on the roads, but sansa had forgotten all about that when she found winterfell. adaine's voice startles her a little.]
Oh! Yes, that's--not the king, obviously, or the man with the golden hair.
[she smiles, a little sadly.]
It didn't happen like this.
[in front of her, the household of winterfell has assembled once again. the wolves are grown, now, and the little sansa has gained a few inches. sansa's amused and pleased to see that rickon has also grown a little. this time the party on the kingsroad carries a lizard-lion banner. they soon reveal themselves to be a small group of crannogmen on foot, led by a boy and a girl. ned stark breaks out in a grin.
"Meera! Jojen! It's good to see you," he says.
sixteen year old sansa is delighted to see the reeds, but not-yet-fourteen year old sansa's face falls. sansa gets a sinking feeling in her stomach and turns towards adaine.]
You have to promise me that no matter what that little girl says, you won't think I'm too stupid to learn magic.
[she says it lightly, but she's not entirely joking. ned and the children embrace. robb and jon practically fall over themselves in their efforts to reach the girl, while arya and bran accost the boy with barking wolves. theon wanders off, and only sansa is left with lady. catelyn looks at her with fond amusement.
soon the whole group of them have filed into the castle, and sansa follows. she finds herself in her mother's solar, watching her mother and her younger self cut fabric.
"What kind of lady is she? She doesn't even wear dresses," says the younger sansa. the older sansa cannot help but groan.
"Perhaps she doesn't have any dresses," says catelyn gently. "You could make one for her, as a welcome present."
"But what if she hates me, like Arya?" says the younger sansa. her voice swells with tears. "I don't see why everyone should hate me, because I like dresses, and music, and not getting dirty riding horses and shooting arrows like Arya."
"Nobody hates you, sweet one," says Catelyn. "Arya is only trying to find her way, and I'm sure Lady Meera would be glad of any gift you had to give her."
the younger sansa nods and resumes cutting. the older sansa leaves the room, only to find her younger self, now in a high-backed collar pinned closed with seedpods, holding a similar dress in darker greens outside one of the doors from the guest wing of the castle. sansa distantly remembers that she'd started bleeding that year.
"Lady Meera? It's Sansa. I thought you might like to have this."
the door opens, and meera reed welcomes her with a big smile.
"Did you make that for me?" she asks, wide-eyed. "It's beautiful."
"I thought you might like to have a dress like we wear in Winterfell," says the younger sansa, very like her older counterpart. "I can show you how we make them, if you don't know."
"I would like that very much," says meera, accepting the dress and wondering at it. "Cloth comes very dear to us, in the Neck, and fine gowns would be ruined very quickly, but we do work all manner of hides and seal them against water. I could show you, if you'd like."
the younger sansa beams, again not unlike her older self.
"I would like that very much."
the older sansa walks down the hall and out another door, where meera, now in a northern gown hitched out of the way in one hand, walks arm-in-arm with robb in the godswood, grey wind trotting at their heels. sansa laughs aloud in delight. she can't make out what they're saying, and moves to get closer, before she catches herself--bran and rickon may yet be alive, but robb is not. better not to wound herself any more than she has to. she strides back to the castle, and pushes past another door into the great room, where her family and her parents' advisors all seem to be massed around bran and jojen. bran now stands over a head taller than him. there is a strange, fierce woman with rickon and catelyn, dressed in a mix of the men and women's clothes worn by the castlefolk of winterfell. jon snow is not among them, sansa realizes.
"Jojen's visions come from the Old Gods," says bran firmly. "He's never wrong."
"You can't know that," says maester luwin. "You can't know that they're anything but dreams."
there is a glance between the stark children that sansa immediately recognizes. they've begun to have wolf dreams, too.
"He dreamed we should come here," says meera.
"Lord Howland did write me of this," says ned.
"You can't be thinking of letting the two of them go off on their own," says catelyn.
"I can go with them!" says arya. "I have my sword, and I'm better with a bow."
"I have a sword too, and I'm still better than you," says bran.
"You are not!" says arya, indignant.
"It's too dangerous," says jojen.
"If it's dangerous, I should go," says robb. meera looks at him in a panic.
"I'm going too," she says.
"No one is going anywhere," says ned. "Not yet."
"Father, please," says bran. "Winter is coming."
"And you'll go in the spring," says ned firmly.
sansa turns around and there is a feast. it seems the entire north has come to celebrate the harvest. she watches her parents dance, and robb and meera; the fierce woman now pulls jon snow out of a sulk and into a dance--theon sneers at them and slinks off with one of the kitchen girls, arya swings rickon around while bran and jojen sit at the head table, deep in conversation. her younger self dances with a karstark boy, then a tallheart, magnificently outfitted in a sky blue dress thick with embroidered leaves and acorns. she cannot find roose bolton and determinedly stops herself from seeking him out. instead she winds her way closer to her parents, and catches her mother muttering something about writing highgarden. then the musicians start up with 'the night that ended,' and all hope of conversation is lost.]
cw mention of teen menstruation ig
Oh! Yes, that's--not the king, obviously, or the man with the golden hair.
[she smiles, a little sadly.]
It didn't happen like this.
[in front of her, the household of winterfell has assembled once again. the wolves are grown, now, and the little sansa has gained a few inches. sansa's amused and pleased to see that rickon has also grown a little. this time the party on the kingsroad carries a lizard-lion banner. they soon reveal themselves to be a small group of crannogmen on foot, led by a boy and a girl. ned stark breaks out in a grin.
"Meera! Jojen! It's good to see you," he says.
sixteen year old sansa is delighted to see the reeds, but not-yet-fourteen year old sansa's face falls. sansa gets a sinking feeling in her stomach and turns towards adaine.]
You have to promise me that no matter what that little girl says, you won't think I'm too stupid to learn magic.
[she says it lightly, but she's not entirely joking. ned and the children embrace. robb and jon practically fall over themselves in their efforts to reach the girl, while arya and bran accost the boy with barking wolves. theon wanders off, and only sansa is left with lady. catelyn looks at her with fond amusement.
soon the whole group of them have filed into the castle, and sansa follows. she finds herself in her mother's solar, watching her mother and her younger self cut fabric.
"What kind of lady is she? She doesn't even wear dresses," says the younger sansa. the older sansa cannot help but groan.
"Perhaps she doesn't have any dresses," says catelyn gently. "You could make one for her, as a welcome present."
"But what if she hates me, like Arya?" says the younger sansa. her voice swells with tears. "I don't see why everyone should hate me, because I like dresses, and music, and not getting dirty riding horses and shooting arrows like Arya."
"Nobody hates you, sweet one," says Catelyn. "Arya is only trying to find her way, and I'm sure Lady Meera would be glad of any gift you had to give her."
the younger sansa nods and resumes cutting. the older sansa leaves the room, only to find her younger self, now in a high-backed collar pinned closed with seedpods, holding a similar dress in darker greens outside one of the doors from the guest wing of the castle. sansa distantly remembers that she'd started bleeding that year.
"Lady Meera? It's Sansa. I thought you might like to have this."
the door opens, and meera reed welcomes her with a big smile.
"Did you make that for me?" she asks, wide-eyed. "It's beautiful."
"I thought you might like to have a dress like we wear in Winterfell," says the younger sansa, very like her older counterpart. "I can show you how we make them, if you don't know."
"I would like that very much," says meera, accepting the dress and wondering at it. "Cloth comes very dear to us, in the Neck, and fine gowns would be ruined very quickly, but we do work all manner of hides and seal them against water. I could show you, if you'd like."
the younger sansa beams, again not unlike her older self.
"I would like that very much."
the older sansa walks down the hall and out another door, where meera, now in a northern gown hitched out of the way in one hand, walks arm-in-arm with robb in the godswood, grey wind trotting at their heels. sansa laughs aloud in delight. she can't make out what they're saying, and moves to get closer, before she catches herself--bran and rickon may yet be alive, but robb is not. better not to wound herself any more than she has to. she strides back to the castle, and pushes past another door into the great room, where her family and her parents' advisors all seem to be massed around bran and jojen. bran now stands over a head taller than him. there is a strange, fierce woman with rickon and catelyn, dressed in a mix of the men and women's clothes worn by the castlefolk of winterfell. jon snow is not among them, sansa realizes.
"Jojen's visions come from the Old Gods," says bran firmly. "He's never wrong."
"You can't know that," says maester luwin. "You can't know that they're anything but dreams."
there is a glance between the stark children that sansa immediately recognizes. they've begun to have wolf dreams, too.
"He dreamed we should come here," says meera.
"Lord Howland did write me of this," says ned.
"You can't be thinking of letting the two of them go off on their own," says catelyn.
"I can go with them!" says arya. "I have my sword, and I'm better with a bow."
"I have a sword too, and I'm still better than you," says bran.
"You are not!" says arya, indignant.
"It's too dangerous," says jojen.
"If it's dangerous, I should go," says robb. meera looks at him in a panic.
"I'm going too," she says.
"No one is going anywhere," says ned. "Not yet."
"Father, please," says bran. "Winter is coming."
"And you'll go in the spring," says ned firmly.
sansa turns around and there is a feast. it seems the entire north has come to celebrate the harvest. she watches her parents dance, and robb and meera; the fierce woman now pulls jon snow out of a sulk and into a dance--theon sneers at them and slinks off with one of the kitchen girls, arya swings rickon around while bran and jojen sit at the head table, deep in conversation. her younger self dances with a karstark boy, then a tallheart, magnificently outfitted in a sky blue dress thick with embroidered leaves and acorns. she cannot find roose bolton and determinedly stops herself from seeking him out. instead she winds her way closer to her parents, and catches her mother muttering something about writing highgarden. then the musicians start up with 'the night that ended,' and all hope of conversation is lost.]