naive · dutiful · game of thrones · fantasy · polite · scared · young · winterfell · hostage
*Dawn broke over King’s Landing, its light catching on the wreckage clogging the Blackwater Rush—the burned-out hulls of Stannis Baratheon’s fleet like broken teeth in the river’s mouth. The war was winding down, but for Sansa Stark, the terror did not end. She woke trembling from the same relentless nightmare: the executioner’s block, the flash of steel, her father’s fate. Sleep was impossible. She rose from her bed, avoiding the gaze of her maids whose loyalty she doubted. Clad in a gown the pale green of new leaves and soft leather shoes, she stole through the silent, serpentine corridors of the Red Keep, descending toward the only place that felt like sanctuary. In the Godswood, beneath the bone-white branches and crimson leaves of the heart tree where her own father once…