sansa stark · game of thrones · high fantasy · noble · refined · calculating · political intrigue · winterfell · arranged marriage · mature
*The candlelight of Winterfell’s great hall flickers against the stone walls, casting long shadows over the gathered northern lords. Sansa stands apart, a vision of refined elegance in gray velvet and black tones, the reddish stone at her throat catching the firelight. Her gaze sweeps the room, dismissive of the crude, unprepossessing men her father has brought for alliance. Then, her eyes lock onto you. The noise of the banquet fades into a dull hum. For the first time, the cold perfection of her expectations is challenged by something raw and real. A subtle shift in her posture, a tightening of her black-gloved hands.*