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a life of the spirit

Write about your characters spiritual upbringing. In which faith were they raised? How did this faith shape their early life? What values and sense or morality did it give you? Does your character still worship the same faith and why?

Sansa was raised in the North and was taught for a time in the ways of the old gods until it became clear she preferred the seven of her mother’s faith. This was one of the ways she grew on the similarities of her mother, she was always her mother’s daughter in a way she was never her father’s. It also lead to a feeling of being misplaced within Winterfell, a northern girl with southern tastes, and made her long to visit the south.

Sansa had always, like most noble girls, felt a deep connection to the Maiden. While she would never admit it, a vane part of Sansa had wished to be like the Maiden reborn, dreamed her future husband would be her Warrior, and that together they would be a paragon of virtue and beauty that all of Westeros would admire and envy.

This changed when she watched her father die on the steps of the Sept. Sansa could no longer enter a sept of the seven without thing of his murder. From then on she would visit the weirwood of the Red Keep, as a way to be closer to her father. She wanted to purge herself of the South and reline her true northern roots. Now that she has returned to Winterfell she is trying to learn and understand more about the faith of her father.

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The Celebration of Peace

kings, queens, lords, ladies and knights have all been invited to celebrate both the new year and the hopes of the future and the peace that has finally come to Westeros.

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Sansa felt a spectrum of emotion while the woman spoke. Pride for the words of her father, understanding in the pain of losing brothers, dark grief in remembering the faces of brothers she would never see again, then surprise and shock at the name Greyjoy. She was stunned at how her remembered familiarity of Asha’s features now so clearly echoed that of her brother.

Sansa felt frozen, for a moment before truly feeling the pause in the air. Asha had just admitted to being the sister to her brother’s murderer, and Sansa had yet to respond. She took a deep breath before turning back to face the celebration, but staying by the Asha’s side. “I am sure all of the seven kingdoms have heard of Joffrey, of what he did, to my father, to me, and to many others. Everyone seems to know that he was a monster.” She took another breath, calming her thoughts of Joffrey before continuing. “But no one knows much of his two siblings. Myrcella is sweet girl and more clever than most seems to realize. And Tommen is good-hearted with more kittens than a pregnant cat. It is from them that I learned one cannot a whole tree from a single rotten apple.”

Sansa turned back to Asha decided she was a woman who would prefer honesty to sugar coated words. “Usually after an introduction I would say that it has been a pleasure meeting you, but I am glad that I have and I hope the Iron Islands and the North will enter into a more peaceful time.”

  “Nonetheless, Your Grace, permit me to offer my condolences for the losses you suffered.”  Asha keeps her tone courteous, she sounds - and is - sincere, but the way she eyes Sansa is bolder than a subordinate ought to use.  Those eyes, bright, changeable blue-grey-green in color, are the most noticeable resemblance between Asha and her little brother.

  It’s because of that little brother that Asha has to keep her words polite no matter how it chafes, though Princess Sansa’s abrupt demand for her name strikes her as a little less than gracious.  Perhaps the girl is already adopting a royal arrogance - but Asha can hardly complain.  Not with this one; she’s clever enough to know that treading lightly now is her best course with the Starks.   “There was little love for Lord Eddard where I come from, but he was regarded a respectable conqueror, and none deny that he was a just and merciful man.  Two of mine own brothers perished in the storm he led against us during my youth…but they were men grown, who chose to fight and fell honorably in battle.  What was done to your brothers was nothing less than infamous and idiotic.  Innocent children…for that especially, you have my sincere sympathy. “  

  She could add that their late lord father never instructed Theon to take Winterfell, could add that she berated Theon for his stubborn insistence on holding the castle in a hopeless situation, and that she was horrified by what Theon did to Bran and Rickon; it’s not the ironborn’s way to make excuses, however, and her little brother’s actions aren’t worthy of any. “As for me, there are some blind fools on the islands who still call me queen, and others who use the title lady…but to most I’m Captain Asha Greyjoy.”

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“Thank you.” She turned to give a comment on the lady knight’s appearance or dress before pausing to realize that such hollow and idle words would not be fitting for a woman like Brienne. There was a time that Sansa would have shunned such a woman, or giggled behind her back with others, but was a Sansa who figured beauty could not be evil. Brienne was a solider whom proven herself honorable and just, and deserved a compliment befitting her. So Sansa took a thoughtful look at Brienne and smiled when her search was complete.

“The blue of your tunic makes your eye’s shine beautifully.” Sansa spoke softly but with conviction. “Truly befitting to the heir of the Sapphire Isles.

“–I have been, my Lady, thank you.” She wondered about Sansa Stark. The young Lady had been here before, in horrific times, and her continued strength was one that Brienne admired. “–Your dress is beautiful.”

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Sansa was lost on what to say. A ball with almost all of Westeros’s nobility in attendance was hardly the place to talk of the months that felt like a lifetime. With all the words and memories floating around in her mind, one of the last times she saw her sister came to her mind like it has so often during her imprisonment. Sansa realized that she was finally given a change to tell Arya the words that she had once prayed she could say to her.

Sansa tried to wipe away some of her tears as fast as they appeared while her words came out so fast they also most sounded like one, “I love you so much and I am sorry I called you stupid.”

Arya smiled softly as she nodded her head a little watching her sister for a moment as she laughed softly “ you can say that once again, i have had a few times where i wanted the same thing” she muttered softly before placing her hands behind her back slightly as she continued to glance out at the stars slightly as she took a breath in slowly knowing that it was only a matter of time before Sansa noticed that the woman that she was speaking to…was her own sister. 

she squeezed her hands lightly in her own and smiled once again as she bowed her head a little “ Hello dearest sister”

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Sansa nodded in understanding. It had been clear to her who he was, with his olive skin and dressed in the vivid shades of a burning sun, and while under different circumstances, she and Trystane both had a complicated relationship with the family that once dwelt within the Red Keep. Both had once been engaged to a now Lannister bastard, both of their families had waged in war against the Lannisters, and both family killed by the Lannisters. “Seeing as I have just arrived as well, would you do me the honor of my first dance before your exit?”

Not so long ago Westeros was at war and Trystane was engaged to be married to Mrycella Baratheon and now that had been called off. It was a shame as well since he had grown to care for the former princess. “I’ve only just got here, though I doubt i’ll be staying long.”

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Sansa was surprised at his straightforward words, yet she also found herself relieved by them. She had spoken to so many who tip-toed around her experiences or would try to hide their pity, it was pleasant not having to worry that her response might cause a sudden splash of sympathy across his face.

“I admit that the thought of not attending crossed my mind several times, but it was not these walls that kept me imprisoned, that was the people within them. Human’s may have the ability to be monsters, but walls are just walls.”

“Truthfully I thought you were to be the one not to come.” A slight smile played at her lips, she had decided to try some bluntness of her own. 

“I don’t really see much point in celebrating.” Stannis spoke boldly. He had always hated these celebrations and even though he had his own kingdom, he didn’t see much point in celebrating what he thought was a defeat. “I’m surprised you came, you hadn’t long escaped these very walls.”

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With all the excitement and anxiety of new names and known names to match with new faces, Sansa was truly happy to meet with the friendly face that was Bethany. “As do you,” She said with a grateful nod of her head. “Your dress is truly exquisite, it shines like moonlight on a lake.” 

Sansa lifted her head and took a look around the room. “I don’t think I have ever been to such a merry celebration.”

Bethany had been at the ball for a little while now, dancing and laughing for the first time in a while. Everyone had seemed happy to be there and to celebrate Westeros and what was a divided country in peace. It was the best option for the realm. When the princess of the north entered the ball, most people turned to bow to her, to show her their support. It must not have been easy for her to return and in all honesty, Bethany had not expected her to come. “Princess.” She smiled as she bowed. “You look lovely tonight.”

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The woman now beside her was quite unlike the vast majority of ladies present at the celebration, and yet seemed oddly familiar. She was sharp faced, but not in an unattractive manner, for it appeared to compliment her long legs and lean form. Her coal black hair was cut short, yet this was not what made the woman stand out, for she seamed to command a queen like ferocity and pride. Sansa was sure that if she had met this woman before she would have remembered her by her intensity. She figured her feelings of remembrance were simple from the cut of her hair, which was similar to one that Arya had once wanted long ago, and had been adamantly denied by their mother.

“It’s La-“ Sansa cut off her words, chiding herself for once again forgetting her new position. “-It would be ‘your grace’ but with all the graces present that title could refer to just about anyone, so Lady Sansa would do.” She spoke with a small laugh and a hand gesture to the partying guests. “And you are?”

  Asha’s gaze is irrepressibly drawn towards the ginger-haired beauty descending the stairway; in her defense, she is far from the only one to take note.  A lovely young lady, this, and her proud bearing accompanied by that beauty and that flaming hair are enough to tell the Iron Islander who she is without an introduction.

  She assumes the same cannot be true in reverse: if this Stark woman knew she addresses a Greyjoy, her tone would likely not be so courteous.  Asha tips her head a few inches in respectful greeting, though no more than one might do to an equal, and offers a hint of a smile in return.  “I’ve only now arrived, so it can hardly be termed a break, my lady.  Or is it your grace?  I never have managed to keep the titles straight, I fear.”  That’s a slight prevarication, but the older woman keeps her tone pleasant, at least. 

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Sansa stepped to stand beside Brienne and gave a small curtsy before looking up to give the woman a polite smile. “I fear I can use neither excuse having just arrived, but I am sure I will use one of them soon enough.”

“Have you been enjoying the festivities thus far?”

Brienne turned at the voice and inclined her head in respect as she stood, left arm behind her back with her right holding her elbow. “–Lady Sansa,” she greeted with a wry smile. “–Can it not be both? And yourself, my lady?”

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Sansa laughed at the comment as she took a long look around the room, seeing how different it was from the last time she been forced to attend a gathering. The room it’s self was the same, yet she felt no feelings of dread or of resurfacing memories. It was as if the celebration itself had cleansed the room. “I can’t count the amount of times I wanted to escape this exact room, it is funny to find myself happy to be….” Sansa’s words were cut off when her eye’s finished their trek around the room to rest on the young woman beside her. There was only three people in Westeros with grey eyes such as those and she could feel tears beginning to form in her own Tully blue eyes.

She could not yet speak, but she reached out to grasp the hands the woman in front of her, to prove that this was not a dream.

Arya looked at the young woman for a moment as she smiled lightly knowing in her heart that this was her sister that she was about to speak to for the first time sense they both were able to get out of kings landing. she was not sure if she would be recognized herself as she listened to what the woman was saying before raising her smoldering stormy gray hues at the woman and laughing softly “ One could say Escaping, princess”  

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It was not so long ago that Sansa wished to leave King’s Landing and never return.  Sansa now felt that she should stop making wishes, since they just seemed to mock her. Yet she would not let this event get the best of her, Sansa was not the same child who had once walked these halls in fear, she was now a princess of the north and was determined to be as strong as the walls of Winterfell. With a back straighten by confidence Sansa walked down the stairs into the ballroom.

She met eyes with the guest who had been standing by the stairs viewing the activities and smiled. “Taking a break from the festivities or escaping from them?”

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Sansa was silent for a moment thinking over Bethany’s words. She had heard similar words before, but from servants in the Red Keep that had looked upon her in sympathy after her father’s death. She viewed those words then with scorn, believing they were only being spoken to make their job less tiresome by Sansa incessant tears. Yet Bethany was a servant paid to keep Sansa contained, she had lost as well during this war of kings. Yet, the concept that one day thinking about her lost family would not cut her from within like it did now seemed bizarre.

“Perhaps,” Sansa had a sad smile, but with eyes that grew brighter as she spoke. “And even if Winterfell can never be the home it was before to Lord Eddard and his noble family, it can be home to King Robb start and his royal siblings.” Her hand rose and brushed away tears that had begun to form. “The life I thought I might have is gone, and now there is a life before me that I never would have imagined. And I used to imagine all the ways I could become a princess!” Her words ended on a true laugh.

“Many would have, your grace. I was one of the few who were able to fit the looks of Lannister.” Bethany said with slight discomfort. Her blonde hair and her expensive dresses gave the illusion of Lannister, granted a distant relative of the former queen but it had been enough to trick guards and to gain entry into the the castle. Her heart sank as Sansa spoke of the losses House Stark had endured. Arya was still lost, her brothers lost and assumed dead and still Sansa was simply a girl who longed to see her father. “Your father is here in spirit and Arya will be found soon enough.” Bethany spoke softly as she moved over to the princess. Bethany had recently endured the pain of loosing a loved one and it felt, sometimes, as if the pain would never go away, but it had too. “It can be, but only if you learn to not expect it to be exactly the same. You are not the same girl that left winterfell to marry a prince. You came back stronger, wiser and more sure of herself it seemed.” Bethany said, trying to make the princess feel a little more assured and safe in her new home.

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Sir Lucas Blackwood was unlike the knights and nobles she had grown accustomed to in King’s Landing. She had been so very thoughtless when it came to noticing the many nobles and knights that had met with her father in childhood, and then in King’s Landing she had grown used to watching the trading of favors, the power plays, and dishonorable ooze that bleed from all those within the Red Keep. Sir Lucas seemed honorable, and while once before Sansa would have thought that a common trait, she now knew it’s rarity and value.

She smiled at his words of her brother. “That is good to hear. The North deserves a worthy King, and now I must become a worthy princess. Yet, the only princess I had met was little more than a marriage pawn, and I don’t think that is all the North expects from me.”

Out of all the Stark children, except Robb, Sansa looked the most like royalty. She had the Tully look of her but the strength of winter in her blood. Her time in the Capitol, although cruel and unjust, had made that strength grow and Lucas was relieved that she was now home. Silently he gave a thanks to the Old Gods for her safe return. 

“We only follow our King, your grace. He is what makes us strong and so did the determination to reunite all Stark back to Winterfell.” He hoped she would know that he meant she also encouraged the soldiers strength. “And now he practices with an iron sword like his father and Kings before him. The armed men are only here to protect Winterfell. There are just as many at your brothers or Kingdom, the Rivers and the Isles.” 

Lucas took a seat next to Sansa and thought for a while on what to answer her with. “Strong and honorable but not to fault. He has honor but it will make him a better King and man without putting his life in danger.”

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Sansa’s sobs clamed, leaving her only silently crying against Catelyn. She knew her mother’s words meant to comfort, but she did not believe them. If she had not trusted the Lannisters, if she had not been so blinded by the idea of being queen, if she had seen the really Joffrey and not the one constructed in her mind, if she had not been such a foolish child, then maybe her father would still be alive. She had been naïve and Sansa was not going to let her self make the same mistake again.

“I never thought I would pray for someone’s suffering, but now I do.”

🐺—:

        “By the gods…none of the fault lies with you.” Catelyn tried hard to find the words to comfort her. For every tear Catelyn had shed for the loss of her lord husband, she’d failed to think of how Sansa must have felt. Being there, in the epicenter of chaos, Catelyn assumed Sansa could muster all the Tully composure like Catelyn once did.

        But the two stories were ever different. Where Minisa was lost to Cat at an impressionable young age, Ned was wrenched from her when Sansa thought her life to be perfect. It was a hard lesson, that never came easy no matter the age.

        Catelyn ran her gloved hand down Sansa’s hair, stroking it in an effort to help usher the her daughter’s tears. Today was not Sansa’s day to be strong.

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Sansa looked down at the reflection of the weirwood in the pool and thought on Sir Lucas’s words and realized his truth. She was now a princess, and it was her duty to live up too that title.

“Perhaps it is stronger,” She gave a small laugh, “But that is due to the knights and soldiers like you. I am still not used to seeing so many armed men in Winterfell, or thinking of my brother being King of Winter. Before….” Sansa paused, her face momentarily darkening before taking a breath and continuing, “I went south, he still fought with a practice blade. I can hardly imagine that Robb as a king, and think for my sake him is trying to be his old self in my presence.”

“What is Robb like as a king?”

Lucas had expected the young Stark princess to be different now that she was home and the Lannsiter threat had been stopped but seeing her sitting at the godswood, he knew it was not true but wished it had been. The girl had been through more than anyone and at the very heart of cruelty, living with it day in and day out. She would get stronger. True to the house name, Winter was coming but he thought the winds of winter would only make all the Starks stronger.

He smiled softly at Sansa, giving her as much friendliness as he could bring in his mouring period. She needed that from everyone after the cruelty she had endured. “You are a Princess my lady, it is needed and should so be given. My family did what was right, we owe our lives to House Stark. There is no debt for helping a family when they needed it.” He gave her a small bow but the smile still subtly on his face. “I have never seen Winterfell so great. It looks the same as last I visited but with the return of the King of Winter, I think it looks stronger.”

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“Of course you didn’t do it for the reward, that’s why your actions were so honorable.” Sansa looked down with a sigh and smaller voice, “Not many would risk themselves like you have and I will always be thankful for that.”

“I am think I am settling well enough.” She turned to look out the window, looking over Winterfell, “I am happy to be home, but it feels strange. I keep expecting to see my father walkout of the godswood or to find Arya throwing snowball at me.” Sansa took a deep breath to calm herself. “Can home ever be the same after the unexpected loss of a loved one?”

Bethany gladly allowed the princess to take her hands, though her words were what surprised the lady of ravens. “Your grace, I did not aid in your rescue for reward. Seeing the Stark family back in Winterfell and with a Winter King once more is reward enough.” Bethany smiled, trying to hide the grief of loosing her brother. “How are you settling back home?”