━ 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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The waves rocked the longboat, gentle, casual rolls of water that rocked the ship akin to a mother rocking a child. The wind was soft and the array of ships rowed into a bay, past a series of cliffs and steep lands, the sails caught the wind from there and aided in smoothly carrying the boats up the fjords. It took them all the way into the bay.
Sansa stared out with wonder. It held the miraculously harmonious appearance of both the Vale and Bear Island. Northern in design, although more buildings were of wood than stone, the main dockswere long and wide, allowing for an armada of ships to dock with ease. It had a beautiful woods right by it, it seemed akin to the wildness of the Wolfswood, and a large, bustling port town, like White Harbour.
Many awaited their arrival, a horde of people standing patiently on the dock, enough that for a brief moment, Sansa believed it would collapse under the weight of all those upon it. Children bounced and danced about, their arms outstretched as they pointed and shouted and waved. There were so many people it was near overwhelming. Women, children and the elderly, each eagerly awaited the arrival of their husbands, sons, brothers, sisters, friends and fathers to return from their travels. Their eyes all shone with happiness and relief that made Sansa smile.
There had been a lingering sense of purposelessness, and unsurety, the past few days. For where would she go? There was no home for her, and she had not been shackled with the imprisoned. It would be alright, though. She would survive, she always did. Sansa picked at the rougher patches of skin on her palms. Floki gently slapped her hands as he walked past, he had been pacing stem to stern since the fleet had entered the bay. "Stop that."
Sansa did as he said, instead fidgeting with her pendant, or a loose thread from her borrowed tunic. It was several sizes too large, closer to the length of a nightgown than that of a tunic. Perhaps she should trust the Vikings, as Ragnar had explained various intricacies of culture that Floki had not cared to touch upon in his lessons. They landed in the coming minutes, men leaping up, onto the docks with ropes to die the ships down. Several planks were placed to ferry people and their belongings, as well as the loot they had gained.
Her eyes scanned over the crowds, partially intimidated by the sheer numbers of them. Lots of people usually meant it was twice as easy to be taken without anyone noticing. Sansa's eyes landed on a pretty blonde woman, her face was beautiful, but stern, holding a fierce, yet maternal glint to her eyes. She looked like how Sansa always imagined Queen Visenya to have looked. One of the figures next to her was a little blonde boy and a little girl of the same hair. They looked no older than twelve or thirteen, at most, yet they stood with wide grins crossing their cheeks as they flanked the woman, obviously their mother.
