♟ anxrchic ⨾
The godswood remained a place of quiet even after she had left
King’s Landing and it’s walls filled with unwanted ears, it was
still the place where she could pray to the gods of the North,
regardless of if they heard her or not. It had been ver since the
queen had locked her father, ever since she’d been left to her
gilded cage of pretty walls and pretty dresses where she was
meant to simply look p r e t t y and not
sad. Never sad, no one
liked to see her sad. Sansa was the prettiest when she smiled
quietly and did not speak. The marks upon her body reminded
her of the consequences of speaking out of turn still. They would
never leave her, nor would the memories.
They would fade, become invisible to strangers,
but n e v e r truly
This time however, she did not pray for Joffrey’s kindness, did not
pray for her father, nor her mother, nor her brave brother. They
were gone, lost to the war that still raged outside, the fight for a
throne no one truly wanted, no one truly knew what to do with.
Sansa knew what she’d do with it tho. She’d melt it away, she’d
use the steel to build whatever the small folk had need of, she
would sell it for food for the families that had need of it.
Sansa was praying for an end to the war, just like she had for so
many years now, seemingly unheard. Per chance this time her
prayers would be heard and the gods had always made her not
feel so alone in the world.
Outside were the knights who had accompanied her here, the ones
who insisted a lady should not travel alone and who cared not for
the crime she stood falsely accused of, or who cared not if she
guilty or not.
Sansa did not know which one was preferable.
If having them think her capable or such an act as murder or still
believing her as innocent as they claimed she looked, a little girl
who could never do anything for her North. She did not a s k ,
did not want to know the answer, did not want to know herself
as a killer or still a silly little girl.
A rustling of the leaves told her it was time to leave, told her she had
spoken all her prayers and now she could only wait for them to be
answered and for the war that seemed so close to be prevented,
for as many as possible to be spared should war still come, for
comfort to the families who would lose one or more members.
❝ Have you come to pray, my lord? ❞
The man at the entrance to the godswood had a strange feeling
about him, something that made her shiver slightly despite the
layers of fabric in between her and the autumn air. He did not
seem like he was coming to pray, but why else would someone
dwell near a heart tree?