Upon A Scrap Of Silk

It had been five years, in truth; five cruel years, for Lysa. They had taken their toll. Her sister was two years the younger, yet she looked older now. Shorter than Catelyn, Lysa had grown thick of body, pale and puffy of face. She had the blue eyes of the Tullys, but hers were pale and watery, never still. Her small mouth had turned petulant. As Catelyn held her, she remembered the slender, high-breasted girl who’d waited beside her that day in the sept at Riverrun. How lovely and full of hope she had been. All that remained of her sister’s beauty was the great fall of thick auburn hair that cascaded to her waist.

“I am Cersei of House Lannister, a lion of the Rock, the rightful queen of these Seven Kingdoms, trueborn daughter of Tywin Lannister. And hair grows back.” 

costume series: medieval fashion → snoods (crespines and cauls cont.)

everything asoiaf ♕ minor characters

And we’ve made it, the third and final head of the dragon, the rider of Rhaegal, the Shield, Sansa. Not Sansa Stark, not Sansa Lanister, not Sansa Bolton, Sansa. Sansa never embraced her name, from the first she was eager to be rid of it and honestly, can’t blame her. Lady was killed early on and she wore all those dragonfly pins on her clothes so in this version maybe that all meant something, maybe she was always meant to be a dragon. Listen, here’s where I might loose some people and I’m fine with that, I’ll have some more ramblings under the cut. 

So, after Bran returns Sansa spends a great deal of time talking to him, learning more and more about the army of the dead. Sansa has an incredibly high tolerance for people acting creepy and more and more she begins to understand…winterfell, westeros, is lost and that’s how it should be. Promises made to the others and the children of the forest were broken, the destruction of dragons broke the cycles and ballance of magic and to make things right, they must start from the beginning. Westeros must return to the state it was before humanity in order for there to be peace. Sansa never learned to be a great leader, she learned how to survive and that survival is the most important thing. While Jon is gone she increases her efforts to send the liabilities away from Winterfell, the old young and sick, they are sent as refugees to the free cities and she sends letters to the rest of the lords to do the same. 

When Daenerys and her dragons arrive in Winterfell she is anxious and annoyed, she presses Daenerys constantly to abandon the continent and redirect efforts to ferry the northerners to Essos. Daenerys assures Sansa they can win and that the Night King must be defeated, Sansa agrees with one of these things.

Sansa is constantly at Dany’s side and thus, she is around the dragons, innitially she is afraid but she grows used to them and they grow used to her, something both Missandei and Dany notice. They come to a compromise, the queen kissed by fire and the queen kissed by ice, throughout the weeks approaching the battle, Dany and Missandei would fly Viserion and Drogon back and forth from the castle to the harbour. Bran tells Sansa there will be no peace so long as the Night king reigns but that there must always be a Night King. Sansa understands and realizes that she must stay and do what she can to end this threat. The winds of winter blow ever more urgently, the storms become to heavy and visibility so low she knows in her gut that two riders won’t be enough to hold back the armies of the dead and prevent the castle from being overrun. As Dany and Missandei suit up for battle, Sansa does as well and as they mount their dragons, Sansa mounts Rhaegal. No fear, no hesitation, the dragon that always bickered with Drogon, the moody one who kept by himself accepts her completely. No longer is she a little bird who must be rescued, who must call in favours, she is the shield to guard the retreat, a true dragon queen to ride alongside the women who will become some of the greatest friends she’d ever known…

personal angst under the cut.