━ in which; Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, receives a raven from across the sea, speaking of how her dear sister had come into contact with another race of people from the mysterious, rumoured magic of the sea on Arya's desire to answer the age o...
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Sansa awoke early that morning. Lady had stirred at her side, and Sansa had tied a ribbon of fabric around the wolf's neck, a collar of rough spun cotton instead of the silken bows her beast deserved, yet it was a collar none the less. The air was crisp with a chill, the sky was open and a pale blue that framed the rising sun a shimmering white gold.
Her hand had caressed the soft fur of the wolf and then moved off to search through her meagre wardrobe. If she was to beg for a position in a noble household, she ought to be presenting herself in the best light possible, and she could only do so in her best dress.
It had been a week since her conflict with Dagny and whilst they had made peace, it did not make her heart ache any less, nor make her ears prick up at the slightest noise and eyes scan and analyse words spoken between them. It felt like she was walking on egg shells, waiting to make good on her promise to no longer leech off of the two women. It was nearing mid autumn, winter would come soon. Her survival and Lady's survival depended on her finding a place amongst the noble household and the wage it would provide, just as Alayne's had depended on Petyr. She had to do this, she had to succeed. Had to live long enough to return.
Sansa smoothed down the wool with the back of her hand. It was a blueish-grey dress though the fabric held a slight green hue to it. She had purchased the fabric with the money spare from her first few dresses sold and had slaved over it in her free time until it took shape. Each stitch, she had poured her soul into. Small and swirling, slight embroidery made with left over thread. It was simple, far too simple for a woman of her station, yet it was elegant enough.
She turned to her direwolf, Lady looked up at her with big golden eyes. "Do you promise to stay here?" Lady huffed. Sansa had tried again, "You can't come, I won't be long, probably. Please, Lady, stay here and be good."
Her marigold eyes shone and she butted her head gently into her stomach. Sansa reached down and scratched behind her ears, Lady leant further into her touch. Lady could not be left to wander on her own, a wolf in the town, even with her ribbon collar. She would be safe there, the flame-haired woman noted.
Winter was hidden away in one of the pockets of her dress, she laced up her boots with care and ran her hand over her pendant before tucking it in, the kiss of the steel was cold against her chest. Sansa shivered. Her hair wasn't too oily, she reasoned as she combed through the copper strands and twisting the front sections to secure them away from her face, at the back of her head.
It was chilly as the sun peeked over the mountain top, glimmering off the softly moving waters. There was a fishing boat out in the fjord. Lines cast into the salted depths. Clouds grey and white and tangled in thick clumps like the mat of wool shorn from a sheep.
