The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.
“He and Sansa have never been close and there’s no
natural ease between them, but before he can speak, she slips her hand
into his and draws it into her lap, squeezing harder than he thought her
graceful fingers could manage. He spends the first ten minutes of the
service stiffly waiting to see if she’ll let go and when the jets roar
overhead, he prays she won’t. She doesn’t.”