She Will Remember
as they remember her
There comes a time when a King must travel and for Joffrey Baratheon, the First of His Name, and King on the Iron Throne, that time had come.
As his entourage and bannermen left the South and approached the North, the winds began to change. The air prickled any skin it could find and each breath produced a fine white mist. It was truly an eerie place to be after the King in the North had been slain and it grew colder as they approached Winterfell, the once great castle now nothing more than a empty reminder of what power can destroy.
Joffrey stepped out into the bitter cold air and watched as Sansa was helped out of the wheelhouse and into the courtyard of her former home. "You may wander but don't go far," he said, and she knew better than to disobey.
There was nothing to remind her of the time she'd spent at Winterfell, but nevertheless she left Joffrey to speak with his advisors about the best way to rebuild the place into Baratheon territory. A lot had happened since the news of the deaths of both her mother and brother had reached King's Landing, and she was no longer the girl she used to be. She had witnessed more death than she could have ever imagined, and had felt more pain than she thought were possible.
Sansa knew that she'd have a guard following her so she didn't hesitate to enter her former home, looking for some shred of evidence of her once strong family, just something she could hold onto for hope. Gods knew she needed as much hope as she could find. But there was nothing and full with sorrow, she left the castle, stepping back into the dull and dreary courtyard. Joffrey was still in talk so she wandered the place, running her hand over everything she could in order to try and connect with the place. There was no familiarity about Winterfell, nothing to keep as a reminder of her broken family.
The final place she visited was the Godswood. She held no belief in them after her family was destroyed, but still she knelt in front of it and prayed to the Old Gods. Her guard stood with his back to her, giving her the privacy of worship. It was known that she would never attempt to escape, even back in the North, so she was given freedom whenever Joffrey was not in view.
As she was about to rise, she spotted some carving near the base of the tree, and with a quick look over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being watched, she swept away the the tufts of grass that covered it and studied the words. We remember the Starks. A pang of distress washed through her body as a tear ran down her face. Her mother and father were both dead, Robb, Bran and Rickon were dead as well, and Arya, she could only hope that she were safe and alive. For all she knew, she was the last Stark living.
With the knowledge that the North hadn't forgotten her, Sansa rose and made her way back to the courtyard with her guard. So long as she knew that there were people who still believed in the Starks, she could cling onto the hope of one day returning to the North and seeking the revenge that she had sworn after her father's execution.
No matter the years that pass, Sansa will remember how the North remembered her.
As his entourage and bannermen left the South and approached the North, the winds began to change. The air prickled any skin it could find and each breath produced a fine white mist. It was truly an eerie place to be after the King in the North had been slain and it grew colder as they approached Winterfell, the once great castle now nothing more than a empty reminder of what power can destroy.
Joffrey stepped out into the bitter cold air and watched as Sansa was helped out of the wheelhouse and into the courtyard of her former home. "You may wander but don't go far," he said, and she knew better than to disobey.
There was nothing to remind her of the time she'd spent at Winterfell, but nevertheless she left Joffrey to speak with his advisors about the best way to rebuild the place into Baratheon territory. A lot had happened since the news of the deaths of both her mother and brother had reached King's Landing, and she was no longer the girl she used to be. She had witnessed more death than she could have ever imagined, and had felt more pain than she thought were possible.
Sansa knew that she'd have a guard following her so she didn't hesitate to enter her former home, looking for some shred of evidence of her once strong family, just something she could hold onto for hope. Gods knew she needed as much hope as she could find. But there was nothing and full with sorrow, she left the castle, stepping back into the dull and dreary courtyard. Joffrey was still in talk so she wandered the place, running her hand over everything she could in order to try and connect with the place. There was no familiarity about Winterfell, nothing to keep as a reminder of her broken family.
The final place she visited was the Godswood. She held no belief in them after her family was destroyed, but still she knelt in front of it and prayed to the Old Gods. Her guard stood with his back to her, giving her the privacy of worship. It was known that she would never attempt to escape, even back in the North, so she was given freedom whenever Joffrey was not in view.
As she was about to rise, she spotted some carving near the base of the tree, and with a quick look over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being watched, she swept away the the tufts of grass that covered it and studied the words. We remember the Starks. A pang of distress washed through her body as a tear ran down her face. Her mother and father were both dead, Robb, Bran and Rickon were dead as well, and Arya, she could only hope that she were safe and alive. For all she knew, she was the last Stark living.
With the knowledge that the North hadn't forgotten her, Sansa rose and made her way back to the courtyard with her guard. So long as she knew that there were people who still believed in the Starks, she could cling onto the hope of one day returning to the North and seeking the revenge that she had sworn after her father's execution.
No matter the years that pass, Sansa will remember how the North remembered her.
♠ ♠ ♠
I would like to thank Nicole for the urging (and the promise of the Iron Throne) and confess that I ship Sansa/Joffrey so hard that it's probably obvious how this is a futurefic and an AU because of events of season three. ::file: