kitchen in the stable


She scooped up a handful of snow and squeezed it between her fingers. Heavy and wet, the snow packed easily. Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer’s snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing.

                                    What do I want with snowballs?

two can play this game watch this

from arya

She wished the Rush would rise and wash the whole city away, Flea Bottom and the Red Keep and the Great Sept and everything, and everyone too, especially Prince Joffrey and his mother. But she knew it wouldn’t, and anyhow Sansa was still in the city and would wash away too. When she remembered that, Arya decided to wish for Winterfell instead. Arya, ACoK

Her father sometimes let them have a cup of beer, she remembered. Sansa used to make a face at the taste and say that wine was ever so much finer, but Arya had liked it well enough. it made her sad to think of Sansa and her father. Arya, ACoK

She drank it down at once. It was very tart, like biting into a lemon. A thousand years ago, she had known a girl who loved lemon cakes. Arya, ADWD

So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Arya only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words. Arya, ASoS

When she thought of seeing Robb’s face again Arya had to bite her lip. And I want to see Jon too, and Bran and Rickon, and Mother. Even Sansa… I’ll kiss her and beg her pardons like a proper lady, she’ll like that. Arya, ACoK

from sansa

She awoke all at once, every nerve atingle. For a moment she did not remember where she was. She had dreamt that she was little, still sharing a bedchamber with her sister Arya. But it was her maid she heard tossing in sleep, not her sister, and this was not Winterfell, but the Eyrie. And I am Alayne Stone, a bastard girl.  Sansa, ASoS

She had last seen snow the day she’d left Winterfell. That was a lighter fall than this, she remembered. Robb had melting flakes in his hair when he hugged me, and the snowball Arya tried to make kept coming apart in her hands. It hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. Hullen had helped her mount, and she’d ridden out with the snowflakes swirling around her, off to see the great wide world. I thought my song was beginning that day, but it was almost done. Sansa, ASoS

She remembered a summer’s snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing. Sansa, ASoS

sansa and arya both associate one another with family, childhood and home, the things that are most precious to them and the things they desire the most, none of these thoughts are tainted with hatred but fond and loving memories of sisters who care for each other


She scooped up a handful of snow and squeezed it between her fingers. Heavy and wet, the snow packed easily. Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer’s snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing.

Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Request: Hi :) can you write an Edmund x reader where he’s running late for a meeting. So his hair is disheveled, his crown is crooked, and his buttons are in the wrong places. So y/n is super close to him, fixing his hair and stuff. Awkward Edmund <3

Edmund Pevensie x Reader - Being a Mess can Get You a Date
Setting: Golden Age
Contains: fluff? I guess? 

Sorry if it’s not that great! ;u; I wanted to try to get this one out as soon as possible since it’s my first one and all! ;u; I really kinda don’t like this one so I might redo it? 

Edmund rushed around the castle quickly grabbing a piece of bread from the kitchen before heading towards the stables to grab his trusty steed, Phillip. On his way he was still putting on his clothes and his crown was crooked as it sat upon his head. 

Edmund woke up a bit too late and he happened to be running late for a meeting with King Lune of Archenland and his brother, High King Peter… The Magnificent. He was woken up by a messenger who said that the meeting was much earlier than when he wanted to wake up. So he rushed to get ready. When he turned a corner, he crashed into somebody. His piece of bread fell out of his mouth as he cried out. A clatter from his crown echoed in the hallway of the castle.

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thus, with a kiss

bughead fanfiction - unbeta’d - period piece au - something different that fit my mood today xoxo


“We were nothing more
than star-crossed lovers,
tangled up in what could
have been.”
—Angela Marie Alfaro

She meets him on her eleventh birthday, her father’s Housekeeper, Geraldine, scolding him as he is caught stealing food from the kitchens. A stable boy, with scraggly hair and blue eyes she’s heard her sister read through thick texts of that would akin them to clear skies and rapid waters.

She hears his name is Forsythe, and her fingers curl around the thick wooden door to watch as his cheeks flush at the older woman’s stern voice. His stomach growls loudly, her own ears catching the rumbling from her hidden position at the doorway.

“Now, swab the floors in the barn at once before punishments are imposed on you, Forsythe.” Geraldine’s voice murmurs, her gray hair perched in a tight bun on her head. “If the job is done well, I shall save an extra roll of bread from my supper for you. Is this agreeable?”

“Yes, Miss Geraldine.” The boy with dirt covered cheeks replies, excitement in his tone at the prospect of more food being presented to him.

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Orchardleigh Estate,  Somerset, England

The rich history of Orchardleigh is one of the most unspoilt English Country Estates. The Poet Laureate Sir Henry Newbolt was inspired to write his finest works from his love of Orchardleigh.

It was built in 1855-1858 to the designs of T.H. Wyatt for William Duckworth. The house is not, by country house standards, large, but was clearly build as  a family home. There is a stable block, a boathouse and a kitchen garden with glasshouses some distance from the house. A woodland walk led from the house to the formal entrance into the kitchen garden. 

For the historian Orchardleigh is exciting because of the survival of the service wing virtually intact. It retains the kitchen, with ranges, dressers, and warming cupboards; a full board of service bells; and, most remarkably, the servants’ sleeping cabins, which resemble stable accommodation.  

what do i want with snowballs?

I think at this point it’s quite obvious they’re setting up Jon and Sansa as the leaders of House Stark and the north after the war. So why not discuss my favourite peice of Jonsa foreshadowing? 

Snow was falling on the Eyrie. 

Outside the flakes drifted down as soft and silent as memory. Was this what woke me? Already the snowfall lay thick upon the garden below, blanketing the grass, dusting the shrubs and statues with white and weighing down the branches of the trees. The sight took Sansa back to cold nights long ago, in the long summer of her childhood.

She had last seen snow the day she’d left Winterfell. That was a lighter fall than this, she remembered. Robb had melting flakes in his hair when he hugged me, and the snowball Arya tried to make kept coming apart in her hands. It hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. 

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So long as those remained, Winterfell remained.

“Stone and Snow that was all that was left of Winterfell. Just like she and Jon.”

This line could be from a fanfic, as long as I know, but summarizes a huge and beautiful theme in Sansa’s and Jon’s arcs: Rebuilding their lost and broken home: Winterfell.    

This line also remind me of this quote from the Books:

At the edge of the wolfswood, Bran turned in his basket for one last glimpse of the castle that had been his life. Wisps of smoke still rose into the grey sky, but no more than might have risen from Winterfell’s chimneys on a cold autumn afternoon. Soot stains marked some of the arrow loops, and here and there a crack or a missing merlon could be seen in the curtain wall, but it seemed little enough from this distance. Beyond, the tops of the keeps and towers still stood as they had for hundreds of years, and it was hard to tell that the castle had been sacked and burned at all. The stone is strong, Bran told himself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, he thought. I’m not dead either.

—A Clash of Kings - Bran VII

Winterfell: sacked, burned, broken and without a Stark inside it’s walls. But the stone is strong and the roots of the trees go deep under the ground, and as long those remain, Winterfell remains.

Have you noticed already? Have you noticed the references of Sansa and Jon in that quote?

Stone = Alayne Stone = Sansa Stark, and indeed, Sansa is strong.

The roots of the trees go deep = The Weirwood tree (Winterfell’s heart) = Ghost = Jon Snow = King of Winter/King in The North and the King of the whole realm.

I think the connection between Stone and Sansa is pretty clear; so I just going to explain the connection between the roots of the trees and Jon a bit:

The roots of the trees going deep is a clear reference to the most famous tree in Winterfell, the Weirwood tree. Ned used to say that the Weirwood tree was “Winterfell’s heart”. Ghost is mostly described as a symbol of the Weirwood tree, due their equal colors: red and white. Ghost is part of Jon Snow and Jon Snow is likely to be the next King in The North and the King of the whole realm.  I’m going to write a separate post about Jon, Ghost and the Weirwood tree soon, explaining some more. I promise. But for now, that’s it.

So, Sansa and Jon are the two pillars that make Winterfell remain. They are destined to retake and rebuild their home together. The Show in it’s unique way kind of confirmed this. Let’s see:

Sansa Stark, under the guise of Alayne Stone, builds a Snow Castle that is to be a very detailed version of Winterfell in her seventh chapter in ASOS:

What do I want with snowballs? She looked at her sad little arsenal. There’s no one to throw them at. She let the one she was making drop from her hand. I could build a snow knight instead, she thought. Or even…

[…] The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. Some things were hard to remember, but most came back to her easily, as if she had been there only yesterday. The Library Tower, with the steep stonework stair twisting about its exterior. The gatehouse, two huge bulwarks, the arched gate between them, crenellations all along the top…

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

For me, this quote implies that Sansa is going to actively participate in Winterfell’s restoration.  And who else want to restore Winterfell?

“Drink this.” Grenn held a cup to his lips. Jon drank. His head was full of wolves and eagles, the sound of his brothers’ laughter. The faces above him began to blur and fade. They can’t be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell … grey granite, oak and iron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones … how could Winterfell be gone?

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

That’s why this line: The snow fell and the castle rose” makes me think that Jon Snow will help Sansa Stark to rebuild Winterfell, their lost and broken home.

And Jon and Sansa could also “rebuild” the Stark dynasty, the blood of Winterfell, as they both share the dream to have children to fill the void of their lost family, their lost parents and siblings:

Willas would be Lord of Highgarden and she would be his lady.

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa’s dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We’d find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Indeed, among all the Stark children, Sansa and Jon are the only ones that are called or call themselves the blood of Winterfell:

Jon’s throat was raw. He looked at them all helplessly. “She yielded herself to me.”
“Then you must do what needs be done,” Qhorin Halfhand said. “You are the blood of Winterfell and a man of the Night’s Watch.”

—A Clash of Kings - Jon VI

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father’s face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn’t, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night’s Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

“What if Lord Nestor values honor more than profit?” Petyr put his arm around her. “What if it is truth he wants, and justice for his murdered lady?” He smiled. “I know Lord Nestor, sweetling. Do you imagine I’d ever let him harm my daughter?”

I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter and Lady Catelyn’s, the blood of Winterfell. She did not say it, though.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

There you have it!

As long as Sansa Stark and Jon Snow remain, Winterfell remains.

This very large mound at Callan, Co Kilkenny, Ireland represents the remains of an Anglo-Norman motte castle. It was probably built in c. 1217 by Geoffrey FitzRobert. In 1307 it was described as ‘a castle, in which there is a hall constructed of wood covered with wooden shingles, a stone chamber, a kitchen and other wooden chambers, and in the haggard a great grange, a stable of stone and an ox house’.

Bite me

For day 3 of kinktober.


Eren has spent a lot of time looking at his captain. Stealing glances during briefings. Staring when he’s certain no one is looking. Trying to keep a neutral expression when they speak, to keep his eyes from wandering along Levi’s frame.

Eren knows Levi’s body well. Could map out every contour of muscle in his sleep, describe every scar in detail. If he were questioned, he would attribute it to years of training under him, to dressing his wounds, to bathing together in rivers on expeditions. Eren knows his feelings for Levi aren’t a well kept secret, but he gets mildly defensive when someone brings them up just the same.

It’s after all these years of observation that Eren wonders how he missed it, how he only noticed one day while walking behind him. Levi’s hood had slipped off, and Eren followed the flash of green as it slid down the back of his head to contrast against the nape of his neck. The skin there is pale, the same as everywhere else. But it’s smooth. Unmarred. Flawless. His neck is slender. Pretty. Eren almost yelped when Levi turned his head to bark something at Jean, but it died in his throat when Levi’s Adam’s apple bobbed. That’s when Eren knew that he is fucked. Totally and completely fucked.

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Mac Ruaidh - Part Two

Part One

Despite her initial reluctance to relinquish her grandson to Jamie, Lady Dunsany wound up taking the lead in making the necessary arrangements for the sake of appearances. A wet nurse was engaged to take the infant for up to a fortnight; none of them would know precisely when the infant would be brought to Helwater. Ellesmere’s servants (with a few exceptions whose discretion could be trusted) were informed that like his mother before him, the child had died. Ellesmere agreed to let the Dunsanys take Geneva and her child home to Helwater for the funeral and burial. A few days after the funeral, the baby would be brought to Helwater and left for Jamie with a scribbled note and he would make sure the Helwater servants saw him making an appeal for assistance to the Dunsanys.

Letting William go was painful and he had to remind himself it was only for a few days, that he would see this child again. Still, he lay awake each night on his pallet in the loft waiting and praying that that would be the night one of the maids came to fetch him.

Jamie was working through a daze re-shoeing the horses in the yard when Major Grey arrived. Though his bags were brought inside right away, Major Grey lingered in the yard watching Jamie at his work. Jamie bowed his head back to the task at hand and refused to look up again until he was confident Major Grey had gone inside to see Dunsany.

He shouldn’t be so surprised that Major Grey had shown up; he was an old friend of the Dunsany family, which was part of how he’d managed to arrange Jamie’s parole at Helwater in the first place. But Jamie’s mind couldn’t have been further from Geneva’s impending funeral as he crouched with the horse’s foot clutched between his legs and the cold tang of the metal nails clenched between his teeth. He was wondering where on the road between Ellesmere’s estate and Helwater the wet nurse and whoever her escort might be were; whether the journey was making William fussy and irritable or if he was cooperating and sleeping a lot; how many hours it would be before the tight knot of anxiety in his chest would loosen.

Jamie didn’t see Major Grey again until Geneva’s funeral. Jamie attended the funeral along with most of the estate’s staff, standing towards the back of the crowded chapel; he had no difficulty seeing the proceedings. Under normal circumstances, he would have followed along with the service adding his own silent prayers and making note of the differences between this Protestant service and the Catholic ones he knew better. There were more than enough similarities to make up for the differences.

A young mother dead in childbed; her child gone with her; a grieving husband and family mourning her publicly. A heavy feeling of disgust settled in Jamie’s stomach; aside from the first, Geneva’s funeral was both echo and mockery of what his own mother’s had been. William lived though only a handful in attendance knew. Her parents’ and sister’s grief was real enough but Ellesmere sat stone faced, staring at the coffin and undoubtedly judging the soul that used to belong to the body within. Guilt swept through Jamie for he had been so quick to do the same with regards to Geneva. He would try to forgive her for his son’s sake and would beg her forgiveness for the fact the boy could not know her or even know of her. He hoped that made them even.

I’ll raise him as best I can, he promised her silently, and I’m sorry, but there’s only one way I ken how. It’s no the way ye would have wanted, but he’ll be loved. And someday… someday I’ll try to bring myself to tell him the truth. And with the minister’s final prayers, Jamie tried to set Geneva Dunsany aside for good.

Major Grey found Jamie in the crowd after the service had finished when everyone was lingering, uncertain what to say to the grieving family, unwilling to be the first to leave.

“It was good of you to come,” Grey said, making an awkward start.

Jamie grunted his agreement as he moved to find a way out of the crowd, the rest of the servants and staff having drifted out before the service had finished in order to prepare the house for the gathering of guests who would linger for hours or––in some cases––days.

“Are you feeling all right?” Grey asked, his eyes narrowing as he took in Jamie’s haggard appearance.

“Tired is all, sir,” Jamie responded with a curt politeness intended to remind Grey of the company around them. “Ye’ll have heard of the storm we rode through to reach Ellesmere. The carriage was stuck often and it was cold and weary work dislodging it. I’m still recovering and actually ought to be getting back for a rest while I can.”

“Of course,” Grey relented. “I will speak to you sometime before I leave.”

“How long are ye to stay?”

“Just a day or two. I want to be sure the family don’t require anything of me before I return to London.”

Jamie nodded but an acquaintance of Grey’s appeared and struck up a conversation with him assuming Grey had simply been giving instructions of some sort to Jamie.

Relieved to be free of the large group of mourners, Jamie slipped away to the stables where there were a multitude of guests’ horses that needed to be tended before their owners could begin departing. It was the kind of busy work that distracted a person from their thoughts and Jamie relinquished himself gladly to the monotony of movement that exhausted his body so that come nightfall he lay on his pallet in the loft and finally fell into a light but restful sleep.

The following afternoon Jamie was returning with the line of horses from one of the distant paddocks when he noticed the horses increasing restiveness as they drew closer to the house and stables. One of the kitchen maids emerged from the stable with her hands on her hips and crossed to Hughes with a question. Hughes started to shrug then spotted Jamie and the maid’s head spun in his direction.

His heart began to pound and his palms to sweat as he continued toward her at a steady and reluctant pace, all his energy focused on maintaining an air of ignorance, all his mind in chaos as he yearned to have the charade over with so he could be alone with his son in his arms.

“You’re needed in the house MacKenzie,” the maid called when he was closer. Hughes trailed behind her already reaching for the horses’ line while Jamie headed for the nearby trough to wash the dirt from his hands. She followed him with growing impatience. “There’s a message along with a uh… well, you’d best just come and see.”

The maid was close to running but Jamie’s stride was long enough for him to keep up without looking worried or in a rush.

Silence fell in the kitchen when Jamie finally appeared on the scene. A space had been cleared on the table; meat, herbs, and a few vegetables pushed aside in various states of preparation so that a large basket could rest in the middle, away from the edge.

The housekeeper stood beside it wearing an authoritative posture. She held out the opened envelope for Jamie to take as soon as he was close enough. He frowned at the broken seal and peered over the edge of the basket to see William wrapped securely in several layers of blankets, his face barely visible and his nose rosy from the chill in the air outside.

Turning his back on the basket, Jamie pulled out the note and skimmed it, already having a vague idea of what Lady Dunsany would have written for the wet nurse to copy before delivering the child to Helwater. He was pretty sure the housekeeper could read and wondered how deep into the household the note’s contents had already managed to spread.

Setting the note aside, Jamie reached into the basket and pushed the blanket aside so it was clear of William’s face. Relief washed through him as he saw that the infant appeared to be in good health; he wasn’t pale or feverish or clammy and his face had lost the squashed appearance of the recently birthed. Jamie slipped his hands around the tightly wrapped body and lifted it out. Jarred by the sudden movement, William’s eyes flew open and Jamie could feel the baby’s limbs fight against the blanket that kept them tight against his body. A startled cry escaped the bundle and the housekeeper reached instinctively to take the child and calm him but Jamie moved William out of her reach and settled him in his own arms.

Reassured by the solidity of resting in Jamie’s arms and against his chest, William’s cry weakened to a whimper and then faded as Jamie began whispering to him in soothing Gaelic, the vibrations of his low voice radiating through his body. William looked up at Jamie with wide eyes, his mouth forming a startled ‘O’ that made Jamie chuckle.

“What’s happened here?” Lady Dunsany asked as she followed a maid sent to fetch her into the kitchen. She paled for a moment when she saw Jamie holding the baby but quickly recovered.

“I believe I’m goin’ to need to have a word or two wi’ yer husband, my lady,” Jamie said in a way he hoped didn’t sound two practiced.

“What’s this?” Lord John asked coming in behind Lady Dunsany.

Jamie felt a nervous chill creeping up his spine as he watched Grey’s eyes widen momentarily with shock; his features remained unaltered as he looked into Jamie’s defiant face.

“May I see that?” Grey asked indicating the note.

“Lord John, please,” Lady Dunsany said with quiet firmness as Jamie yielded the slip of paper. “This is not the place to be doing this and it’s a matter for my husband to deal with, at any rate.”

Grey looked up from the note and at Jamie again then to the child in his arms. William wriggled a bit and grunted before passing a bit of gas. Jamie struggled not to smile at what appeared to be the babe’s opinion of such scrutiny.

“You are right, of course, my lady,” Grey finally said. “Please, allow me to help you carry your things into the library while your mistress fetches her husband.” He reached over to the table and lifted the basket.

“Thank you, sir,” Jamie said with formality before following Grey out of the kitchen.

He wanted to reach out and take Grey by the collar, push him up against the wall of the hallway and lay into him for interfering; point out that no one beyond Dunsany was supposed to know his full background and that Grey’s assumption of authority in the kitchen threatened what anonymity using the name Alexander MacKenzie gave him. But having William in his arms was more than deterrent enough.

The babe was starting to squeak and grunt again, this time clearly with hunger behind it. How long had it been since he’d eaten? How long would it take till Lady Dunsany could get a wet nurse to the house? What was it Jenny used to give the bairns to tide them over if she couldn’t nurse right away?

Grey strode into the library with Jamie a few steps behind him and dropped the basket on the floor by the desk before whirling around and shutting the door.

“What’s going on, Jamie?” Grey asked, his voice a harsh whisper. “I don’t for a minute believe that you got some random local woman with child the way this note suggests. Not without the household servants knowing about it and if they had suspected something and were gossiping about it, Tom would have heard and informed me.”

Jamie remained silent, turning his attention to William and walking towards the light of one of the windows, swaying as he did and calming the hungry child. William blinked against the light then sneezed.

“What makes ye so sure he’s no mine?” Jamie asked quietly.

“I know you, Jamie. You wouldn’t take advantage of some unfortunate or… or misguided young woman like that,” Grey insisted. “You’re too noble… too noble for your own good,” he added, under his breath.

“There’s much about me ye dinna ken,” Jamie murmured letting William take the end of his finger in his hand. The babe shifted his head towards the finger, mouth gaping, ready to feast. It took a few tries for him to get the finger in his mouth. Jamie hoped the brief washing he’d given his hands on the way inside had gotten that finger clean enough; he could hear faint echoes of Claire scolding him about how sensitive infants could be to those germs of hers.

“MacKenzie,” Dunsany said as he and his wife slipped into the library. “Lord John,” he added, clearly startled. “Thank you for keeping MacKenzie company just now. I think––”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I think you and I both know that whatever is happening with this child concerning MacKenzie is my concern as well,” Grey interrupted with the clear intention of taking charge and a brief glance to Lady Dunsany, uncertain how much she knew of how and why Jamie had come to be a groom on the estate. “Now, as I’m sure your wife informed you, the note claims that MacKenzie is father to this child but it’s clear that he can’t possibly raise the boy here under these circumstances. If you require assistance, I can help arrange for the boy to be sent to his family in Scotland. Presumably he has family who would be able to care for the boy until such time––”

“No,” Lady Dunsany interjected. She had already drifted to Jamie’s side. “That won’t be necessary. MacKenzie can stay here with the baby so long as he’s in our employ. I’ll send to town to inquire after a wet nurse and you can be moved into the house; the child cannot be raised in the barn.”

Grey turned a confused look to his hostess as she reached for William and brought him to her shoulder, a hand caressing the back of his head.

Understanding dawned in Grey’s face and he looked first to Dunsany and then to Jamie for confirmation.

“Ah, yes. Well… I suppose that changes matters… I’ll leave you to your arrangements,” Grey stammered, heading for the door but throwing Jamie a look that indicated there were still matters the two of them would be discussing later.

But the reluctance Jamie felt over the prospect of that discussion faded as he watched Lady Dunsany with tears in her eyes cradling her grandson. He couldn’t begrudge the Dunsanys for the comfort they found in the child but neither was he blind to the difficulties that lay ahead as far as drawing boundaries for how William would be raised and their role in his life. Grey could be an important ally for him when the time came for him to take William home to Scotland. He hoped for all their sakes that a balance could be struck that would enable them all to live in peace for some years to come.

anonymous asked:

First off, (I might be late!) Happy Birthday!! Secondly, what do you think the Stark children's relationship with Jory was like? I know in the show they seem close enough but what is their relationships like in the books? Thanks!!

Thank you for the birthday wishes!

I think the Stark children were pretty close to Jory Cassel. He was, after all, in a somewhat unique position: a member of the household, but one of (even modestly) noble birth, with less of a social divide between him and his Stark masters (Catelyn even remembers Jory Cassel as a guest at her wedding, where in his excitement for the bedding he ripped her gown). Consequently, we do see these memories of Jory interacting with the younger members of the Stark family which are not shared even by his fellow officers at Winterfell. Bran has this proud thought that “none of the guards could climb half so well as Bran, not even Jory”. Jon recalls hunting in the wolfswood with Lord Eddard, Robb, and Jory Cassel many a time, while Bran mentions a time in which Jory brought himself, Robb, and Jon to a place in the wolfswood to fish for trout. Theon recalls that he had trained in the yard with Jory alongside Robb and Jon. Arya thinks at one point that “Jory had always smiled at her, when he wasn’t telling her to get from underfoot”. Sansa has perhaps the most charming memory of all which includes Jory’s life with the Stark children:

She remembered a summer’s snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing.

I tend to see Jory’s life with the children of Winterfell as sort of a dual role: the companion highborn enough to accompany the noble children in their activities and the vigilant captain of the guards, making sure that his charges were not going to hurt themselves (or each other).

The Queen Regent (NFriel)

Come and find me

Outlander one shot requested by Anon based on this imagine:

You don’t really remember the exact moment that you had fallen asleep. You had walked through the airport, booked in your bags, looked round duty free, boarded the plane and then you’d taken off. Not that you were surprised that you had fallen asleep, it had been a number of weeks since you had slept the entirety of the night without waking up or at the very least dreaming. Ever since your parents had informed you that they would be travelling to the UK and from there you would meet them for a family holiday in Scotland. 

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anonymous asked:

hi there! i was the one who requested prince!wonwoo on your other blog but you redirected me here. so can i request a prince!wonwoo au where the reader is a girl? you can play with the plot. i don't mind anything thank you so much! - princess anon

hi there too princess anon~~ i’m glad you got here lol anywayyy here it is~ enjoy! hope to not disappoint so much. i didn’t check for errors tho

  • known as “the cold prince”
  • just because of his appearance tho lets be real he’s a soft mallow inside
  • and also because he’s so quiet
  • always has a book with him
  • his room always has a small pile of books on the floor beside his bed
  • and he loves reading in the palace library and in his bedroom with his glasses on but when he reads outside even on the garden he doesn’t wear them idk why
  • his cousin mingyu says wonwoo’s trying to look cool cause him in glasses is so cute he doesn’t like a cute image
  • but tbh he’s just trying to protect everyone cause their hearts will be snatched if they saw him in glasses just kidding
  • the queen thought he was undergoing emo phase when he was in early teens but she now understands that it’s just the way he is
  • the king believes wonwoo is gonna be a great king cause he’s so smart from reading lots of books
  • and he beats the king everytime they play chess so he knows how to make a good strategy and plans
  • he excels in archery and horse riding
  • he’s also good with a sword but mingyu’s better lol wonwoo beat him twice tho
  • …out of ten matches
  • he’s also learning dance and music
  • he’s just perfect
  • but he sucks in learning foreign languages
  • every girl in the kingdom swoons at his visual slayage but they’re afraid of him really
  • he just looks scary when he’s serious but they saw him smile once or twice and everyone just aaAHhh what a handsome prince we have he looks so soft awww
  • he cares a lot about his people and everyone knows that he’s such a lovable prince
  • there are so many girls wanting to be with such perfection but he always reserves himself for the one arranged to be his wife
  • you
  • he never met you he never saw you even your name is a mystery and that was also your situation towards him
  • he just knows he’s promised to this certain princess in this certain kingdom
  • his parents met you a good amount of times tho
  • the queen is so selective on people and doesn’t like people instantly or so much but she likes you really really well
  • so wonwoo thinks you’re such an angel if she talks about you to him a lot
  • the queen always tell wonwoo that you’re really pretty and that you are really nice and smart
  • and wonwoo is like oh a typical description of a princess
  • but no you are far from typical
  • you are great in stitching as much as you are great in sword fighting you’re even better than wonwoo lmao
  • you love books but not addicted to them like him
  • but you love painting whether it’s oil or watercolour or whatever medium you love arts
  • you are also great in taming wild animals and have a vast knowledge about poisons 😂 it just fascinated you
  • you also have a stepmother she’s not a witch or anything of the sort but your older stepsister might be
  • she just hates you to the guts
  • she’s so easily annoyed and irritated she has this permanent frown on her face
  • and wonwoo thought you were her when your family went to his kingdom to plan the wedding
  • his mind is like how can my mom like this girl so much such a brat she orders everyone around like they’re just slaves and with that frown not pretty at all
  • is my mom blind or what
  • lol
  • you arrived one day late cause you were kinda sick when they left and you promised to follow in about five days maximum you just need to rest
  • but it only took a day of recovery such a strong body
  • and when you got there they told you you’ll meet your future husband at dinner so you sneaked out of your room to roam the palace freely cause its still ten in the morning
  • but while trying to look around, you saw a figure walk out from what your stepmom told you is the prince’s room when she help you get to your room earlier
  • it was mingyu tho but you thought it was the prince you’ll marry and you’re like oh that’s him seems decent he’s okay really handsome too so lucky of me lol
  • and then you got to the stables and on the way there you tripped so your clothes are dirty and tattered thankfully your skin is still flawless
  • you were trying to be friendly with the horses but then someone approached you
  • you looked at the guy with dirtied clothes as well with a horse with him it was wonwoo (with seokmin you get it? lol just kidding)
  • and you think wow so handsome is everyone in this kingdom good looking?
  • then he spoke to you “who are you?”
  • his voice is so deep wow this guy is so hot but so disrespectful doesn’t he know i’m a princess?
  • but you realize you look far from a princess right now and you just arrived in this kingdom
  • wait he can’t know i’m a princess if i looked like this and i shouldn’t flaunt myself i might be in danger or whatever trust no stranger
  • “i’m a daughter of a kitchen staff in the palace, forgive me for alarming you, i just wanted to see the horses”
  • he was kind of taken aback “you ride horses?”
  • “yes, it’s what i do in my past time back home outside the palace, like a hobby”
  • his mind is like wow a girl who likes horses and she’s really pretty too “how come i only saw you today?”
  • “oh, i came today to replace my mother since she’s sick… forgive me for asking but… who are you?” you’re such a smooth liar it’s part of your princess training
  • he thought you were really suspicious and how come you don’t know him? you might be a spy or something he should be careful “i’m a stable boy”
  • “really? oh wow, these horses, do they have names?”
  • and so you bonded over horses lol 😂
  • then mingyu came and was like “his highness the king is looking for you-”
  • “okay” wonwoo cut him off before saying his respect
  • recognizing mingyu, you tried to hide from him
  • you turned to wonwoo “oh you need to go”
  • “yeah”
  • “i guess i’ll see you around?”
  • “yeah, see you around… goodbye”
  • “goodbye”
  • and while walking away mingyu is all smiley with this little glint in his eyes “who was that pretty girl? you having a secret affair while your bride is here?”
  • “no, mingyu, i just met her”
  • “you two were talking~”
  • “exactly we were just talking”
  • “you and i both know you don’t talk a lot with anyone except me”
  • “shut up”
  • and that ‘see you around’ you two said came so soon at 5 in the palace
  • his mother sent him to give a dress to his bride so he was about to knock on your door when it opened and there you are trying to go out again after showering and changing into clean princess clothes
  • and you were surprised to see him too all clean and formal like you
  • you two were both surprised and frozen until you broke the silence smirking at him
  • “oh what are you doing here? i thought stable boys are supposed to be in the stables not inside the palace… and certainly not wearing these kind of clothes”
  • and he was like “i thought kitchen staffs are supposed to be in the kitchen too not from the important guest room… and certainly not wearing these kind of clothes”
  • you looked at each other with narrow eyes… and laughed “fine~ i’m not a kitchen staff”
  • he smiled “and i’m not a stable boy”
  • you swoon by his adorable smile with his nose scrunched up and teeth so white this boy is so perfect
  • you two just have a nice feeling around each other even though you just met
  • “you are?”
  • “i’m wonwoo, right hand of the prince”
  • “i’m y/n, handmaid to the princess”
  • “oh” he says but his mind is like i just wish you’re my bride you’re far better than that stuck up princess- what in hell did i just think of?
  • “why did you lie tho?”
  • and he blushes and sheepishly smiling, was like “…you were suspicious… and may i ask why did you lie also?”
  • you laugh and he thinks its the prettiest laugh he saw and it made him smile more “cause i knew i was suspicious” and you were like “oh why are you here?”
  • he motions to the big box he was carrying “i need to give this to the princess”
  • your eyes widen “oh i’ll take it from here, i’ll give it to the princess”
  • you take the box from him and he gave you a little smile and says “tell the princess to wear it for dinner”
  • “okay… goodbye”
  • “goodbye see you around?”
  • “see you around”
  • and at the 7 o'clock dinner the ‘see you around’ happened again
  • you two were both surpised again to see each other and more surpised when they introduced the two of you
  • “this is the crown prince wonwoo, he’s the one you’ll be marrying”
  • “and wonwoo, this the crown princess y/n”
  • aside from surprised you two were confused
  • “you?!”
  • “you two knew each other?”
  • “we met each other earlier your highness”
  • “oh that’s good then”
  • “y/n, this is mingyu, wonwoo’s cousin and his right hand”
  • and you remembered mistaking him for the prince so you blushed a bit and wonwoo notices this
  • did you like mingyu?
  • and you notice him looking at your sister too
  • so when dinner is over, the two of you were forced to “spend time together” at the garden
  • you both turned to each other “do you like my cousin?”/“do you like my stepsister?”
  • “no!”/“no!”
  • “but you were looking at him!”/“but you were looking at her!”
  • you stare for a while until you feel your cheeks warm up so you look away “…i just thought he was the crown prince so i kinda feel embarrassed”
  • he rubs his nape in awkwardness, “i thought she was my bride too”
  • you blush at the word ‘bride’ cause YOU are his bride
  • you suddenly remembered your earlier encounter “wait– you lied to me again earlier”
  • he eyed you “don’t blame me you did too”
  • “it was because i don’t want you to be suddenly formal and stiff towards me”
  • “well… same”
  • “oh” you suddenly grew quiet
  • but he gave you a small smile, “you look good in the dress tho, it suits you, you’re so beautiful”
  • how can he just say these things so casually like he didn’t just make you blush
  • but with just moonlight you notice his ears getting red and it took you so much control you learned from various princess lessons you took to not just squeal in his cuteness or faint from feeling like you’re floating with the clouds
  • and it took you so much confidence to say something back “you look good too… really handsome- i mean, yeah, you look so great- good, you look good”
  • and the two of you are just a blushing mess smiling at each other thinking “well, they aren’t so bad”

anonymous asked:

Do you think Sansa will ever return home or see WF again? Also do you think Sansa will live in WF after the story in the books finishes? Do you have any thoughts on her endgame?

Oh, absolutely. I’m very confident that Sansa will return to Winterfell at one point. Her story trajectory has always been about her finding her way back to her home and reclaiming her Stark identity and connection. Sansa’s arc, from the point of Ned’s death, has had Winterfell at its heart, that yearning for home that Sansa keeps dreaming of; the comfort and safety of Winterfell that she prays for continuously.

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death … and for home. For Winterfell.  

That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so …  

From the high battlements of the gatehouse, the whole world spread out below them. Sansa could see the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya’s hill, where her father had died. At the other end of the Street of the Sisters stood the fire-blackened ruins of the Dragonpit. To the west, the swollen red sun was half-hidden behind the Gate of the Gods. The salt sea was at her back, and to the south was the fish market and the docks and the swirling torrent of the Blackwater Rush. And to the north …She turned that way, and saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell.

She awoke all at once, every nerve atingle. For a moment she did not remember where she was. She had dreamt that she was little, still sharing a bedchamber with her sister Arya. But it was her maid she heard tossing in sleep, not her sister, and this was not Winterfell, but the Eyrie. And I am Alayne Stone, a bastard girl. The room was cold and black, though she was warm beneath the blankets. Dawn had not yet come. Sometimes she dreamed of Ser Ilyn Payne and woke with her heart thumping, but this dream had not been like that. Home. It was a dream of home.  

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Shout out to my supervisor

So Idk if my last post made it up cuz I havent really been keeping up, but the summary is I’m overwhelmed at my job but I can’t financially afford to leave but its getting to the point where I can’t mentally afford to stay.

But update on that, I had a major break down (I cried 8 times by 11am) and finally told my supervisor R what was going on.
She was very understanding of my position.
She let me go home early and said that she can have me do kitchen 2 times a week (which is a lot more stable) to help make work easier for me.
I honestly can’t express how grateful I am that R is such an amazing person.

Wanna one as Princes
  • Jisung: Just wants his kingdom to be peaceful and safe. Also just really wants to find a princess to marry. Has prevented a war once or twice.
  • Sungwoon: Flirts with all the princesses and chambermaids. Tells heroic stories about himself. Never really has been outside of the castle though.
  • Minhyun: The prince that doesn’t want to marry, so his father throws a lot of elegant balls for him to pick a bride. Sits on his chambers’ balcony a lot and enjoys reading deep medieval literature.
  • Seongwoo: Everyone just really hopes he won’t become king one day. Always riding and running around in the forest, hunting stuff. Doesn’t take his duties seriously at all. His soldiers would still follow him into death.
  • Jaehwan: Actually knows more about the kingdom than his father the king himself. Went out to save a princess from a dragon once. He never came back. Sad story.
  • Daniel: Always hid himself in the kitchen or stables when he was younger. Not really interested in etiquette but always wins first place of the tournaments. His horse is his best friend.
  • Jihoon: That cliché Prince Charming you read about in books during your childhood. Has amazing looks, a pretty voice and elegant clothes. Actually isn’t that charming when you find out he’s cold on the outside and inside.
  • Woojin: The middle child of many princes. Is jealous he’s not the heir to the throne. Might develop a complex which turns him evil. But actually just wants to experience love for once.
  • Jinyoung: The younger prince out of two brothers. Once his brother dies he suddenly becomes the heir to the throne. Thinks of himself as too young to lead a kingdom on his own. Might be taken advantage of by influential people that want to take over the throne.
  • Daehwi: The prince who has it all but would actually prefer being princess. Really hates learning sword fighting but might become a wise ruler once he takes over the throne for sure.
  • Guanlin: Soft prince that gets hurt a lot during riding classes and sword practice. Still has a lot to learn.
  • #So basically, my nerdy ass had to create this. Tag your favorite prince(s).#
Two Different Worlds (An Ashton Irwin Imagine)

Requested: No

Pairing: Prince!Ashton & Y/N

Warnings: Mention of blood, cuts, needles

A/N: So I haven’t posted anything in a while. And here’s why: school and work take up a lot of my time, and the fact that I have to share a laptop with my mother doesn’t help either. I have had writer’s block on The Longest Night and Three Wishes, therefore, I will not be finishing them because you guys didn’t seem to like it anyways. Unless you want me to finish them, they are no more. So in other news, I have been accepted into one of my top choice universities and I’ve been trying to get my shit together for that, so….yeah. I recently went on vacation to Orlando, and while I was there, my mom had a heart attack at home alone, and my boyfriend got into a motorcycle accident. This has happened within the past week and does not account for all the previous months, but I’m here, with new fic ideas and stuff like that. I will post some personal stuff, even though you guys probably don’t care…anyways, here’s my first Prince! imagine with Ashton: Two Different Worlds. ENJOY ^-^


“Don’t speak unless you are spoken to. Curtsey when you enter and exit the room, and before and after you serve them. Serve from the left. Always serve one helping unless they ask for more. And never ever spill what you are serving.” I nodded my head at every instruction and winced as the head of household tied my apron tightly around my waist and pulled my hair back into a bun. I stood extremely still as she looked me over, and paced around me. When she stopped she nodded and looked at me seriously. “Do you understand?” “Yes.” I responded quietly and she smiled. “Good, good, modesty is key.” I kept my head low, just as I had practiced for days prior, and looked down at my dress. It was gray, and made of rough material that made my skin itch. My shoes were the same gray color. The color and state of your clothes signified your job and station within the palace. Since kitchen servers were considered the lowest of all servants in the palace, we received the worst clothes. Let me preface my tale of woe by saying that I left my home in the countryside to help pay for my father’s medication. He has trouble walking and is in a lot of pain. Since my mother died, money has not been easy to come by. I am my father’s only child, and I cannot sew and reap all the corn from our field alone. We used to have boys that we would hire during harvest time, but that was before my father’s accident. Then, we could not afford the boys and still pay the doctor. I left home to look for a job and found myself at the palace doors. They gave me an opening position as a kitchen server, and so, here I am. A kitchen server. It’s better than working in the stables, and it pays more, but it’s still not enough for the doctor bill. A loud clap from the head of household, Miriam, shook me from my daze. “Servers at the ready!” I grabbed a large silver tray of wine glasses and stood up straight, prepared and scared as hell. The large doors, leading to the dining room opened and Miriam began to move into the grand room. She gestured for me to follow her, so I followed, curtseyed, and went straight to the table to serve the drinks. I served from the left and I was very careful not to spill the red liquid on anyone. The queen thanked me quietly and watched as I moved around the table, serving each guest a drink. There were two foreign dignitaries here to discuss unifying their kingdom with ours. We were all told who to expect and how address everyone before we were brought to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I did not dare glance at anyone, for fear of offending someone. I was extremely focused on the somewhat simple task, not listening to the conversation at hand until someone smashed their fist against the large wooden table. I jumped slightly and almost spilled my tray of glasses. “Ashton. Please!” The queen scolded. I looked up to see who caused the disturbance and saw the prince fuming at his plate. I looked to Miriam, who nodded for me to continue my distribution of wine. I came to the prince’s plate and set down the glass, it being my last. I began to curtsey when I saw a glass hit the white marble floor, and shatter, sending blood red liquid everywhere. I gasped and bit my lip. I quickly rushed to knees to clean the spill with my apron and skirt, praying that I would not lose my job. In my frantic scrubbing and scraping, a piece of glass cut my hand. Miriam rushed to my side and brought me to my feet. “If your majesty would please excuse us, I will get servers in here to clean this mess up.” I held my bloodied hand close to my chest as Miriam’s arms wrapped around my shoulders, comforting me, and escorting me away. I looked back at the table to see that the prince was exiting the room, the foreign dignitaries were shocked, and the queen was turning red with either embarrassment or fury. When we entered the kitchen, Miriam made me sit down and left the room. The other servers paid me no mind and went about their business as Miriam came back with a nurse to clean up the large cut on my palm. “What happened dearie?” The older woman asked me with a tender smile as she brought needle and thread from her apron pocket. SHe had a pleasant smile and a soft face, making me feel a bit more comfortable about my situation. “I was serving wine and the prince knocked his glass to the floor.” I paused my story to watch as she threaded the needle and held my wrist tightly so I wouldn’t move. “I tried to clean it up but…” My voice trailed off as I held my breath. The needle pierced my skin painfully, and I could feel the thread running through the layers of tissue in my hand. I wanted to scream out in pain, but I bit my tongue to the point where I could taste blood. I screwed my eyes shut until she was finished. She loosened her grip on my wrist, letting me know that she was done. When I opened my eyes, I watched her run cold water over my hand and blot it dry with a towel. She then wrapped my hand in some spare cloth she had in her pocket. She stood up with a smile, offered me her hand, and helped me to stand. “Feeling woozy dearie?” I didn’t respond, because I was trying to shake myself awake from the dreamy state I was in. I saw her nod and she called someone over to her. It was a boy with dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes. He looked at me as the nurse…what was her name? I didn’t catch her name. Suddenly, I was being lifted off the ground and taken away from the kitchen. “Wait…” I heard my groggy voice escape my lips. I pushed against whatever was carrying me, but it did not budge. “I need to finish my job…” I looked at what, or rather who, was carrying me and saw the dark haired boy. He glanced down at me and chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’ll still be employed in the morning.” I watched him as he grew a second head and became very blurry. “You just need some rest, either me or my mum will be in to check on you during the night.” I shook my head, trying to look at him clearly. “Who are you?” He set me down on a firm bed and smiled. “I’m Calum.” I started to say something, then everything went black and I felt my body give up trying to stay awake.

anonymous asked:

What's your favorite Sansa and Arya moment and why?

She remembered a summer’s snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They’d each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she’d had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing.

I love this for a bunch of reasons. For one, it’s a nice reminder that the Stark sisters were not always “ladylike well-behaved Sansa vs. rambunctious mischievous Arya”. Both Stark sisters were children (that is, younger children than they are now), and like any children both girls were given to this sort of very kid-like energetic play. I also love this because it’s such an accurate sister moment. Growing up with a sister pretty close in age to myself, I know that exact feeling Arya has in this story. You’re playing heedlessly with each other, running around, having fun, but then something goes wrong and everything stops while you fix what’s wrong. The minute you’re sure everything’s ok, though, it’s immediately back to the game. It’s such a wonderful bit of loving and realistic sister writing.