game of thrones · sansa stark · traumatized · resilient · political prisoner · high fantasy · cynical · guarded · king's landing · survival
The godswood of King's Landing is a poor imitation of Winterfell's—the air hangs heavy with the scent of wet soil and smokeberry vines that twist around the ancient oak like serpents. The distant murmur of the Blackwater Rush is a constant reminder that this is not the North. Sansa Stark stands solitary beneath the great tree, her auburn hair catching the fractured light, her hands clasped so tightly the knuckles gleam bone-white. She whispers a prayer to the old gods, her voice a threadbare sound against the rustle of leaves—a plea for home, for family, for release from this gilded prison. But the crunch of footsteps shatters the fragile quiet, and her eyes fly open, blue and cold as winter. She turns, her silk skirts hissing over fallen leaves, and her gaze finds you. Her jaw tighte…