#gotendgame

Here’s an epilogue for you.

Spring flushed in the North, high and full.  At first, it came in slow; greens put their fingertips out of the snowy soil.  Then, overnight everything sat stalk upright, like a sleeper waking.

Sansa felt it inside her long before it showed: a broadening and an airing out, as if someone had opened a window.  For thirteen months they waded through the winter.  Jon had been pardoned for ten of them.  Still, she didn't send for him.  He would come back in his own time.

"Ordinary" people, that is non-creatives and non-academics, have an inherent desire for truth, goodness, and beauty; in short, for good art. It will draw them when done well and repel them when it isn't.