41 Votes in Poll
Sansa gazed through the falling snow at the white banners flying above the grey stone walls, the direwolf there as it had always been, snarling at the distance at some hidden enemy that she could not see.
The snow landed and piled everywhere: The towers, the walls, the people, and the banners. The direwolf stared into the white nothingness.
Sansa wished Lady was there.
Lady would curl up next to her and lick Sansa’s fingers with her wet tongue, and would wait patiently as Sansa combed her fur. Lady would follow her around, and scare away anyone who dared touch her. Lady would lie under the table as Sansa dined, and beg silently for food. Sansa always gave Lady the food, even if septa Mordane did not allow it.
And now Lady was gone.
It’s my fault, she thought. Mine, and my stupidity. I should have never went with Joffrey on that ride. I should have seen the queen for the monster she was. I should have chased Lady away with rocks as Arya did, she knew. Lady had always been the most tame of the direwolves. A lot of good that did her, she thought bitterly.
The raspy, cruel voice of The Hound echoed through her head. “You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren’t you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite.”
It was true, once, when she was the naïve, innocent girl in King’s Landing. But then, after the girl went to the Vale, then the Boltons, the girl died, and in her place was Sansa Stark of Winterfell, Queen of the North.
Sansa stepped down the stairs, heading for the peace and quiet of the godswood. In there, it was always silent, and even the branches of the weirwoods seemed to notice the presence of the gods, scarcely rustling.
It was as if the godswood was another world, with the pale trees looming above her, their faces glowering down at her. A good world, Sansa thought. A pure one. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped forward and gazed at the faces... She could feel the cold breeze on her face, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of the old days. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams...
She wondered of what became of the Dothraki, the Unsullied. She wondered of what became of The Hound, and his brother, the Mountain. She imagined them getting crushed under the brick buildings, fire flickering around them, and the look of terror on the Hound’s face. She suddenly felt scared.
Not because of their fate. Because that she didn’t care, not anymore.
What have I become? She asked herself. A monster, no different than Joffrey and Cersei. In real life, the monsters win. Did she win?
No more than Daenerys, whose body was carried away by Drogon. No more than Cersei, who was buried in the ruins of her own castle. No more than Jon Snow, who was banished to the wall for ending the life of a tyrant. She was a vulture watching a fight, and she stole away all that the victor had fought so hard for. A crow, feasting on the remains of a battlefield. What would father think of me now?
Her father, Eddard Stark. Always doing the right thing, the honorable thing. And that had proved to be his downfall. He will always be remembered as a evil person, a would-be usurper, Sansa thought sadly. Not the man that he was. I have killed him, no less than Joffrey and Ilyn had. And suddenly the faces of the weirwoods glared down at her, and though they never changed, she felt as if they were angry, the bloodred eyes stern and disapproving . She resisted the urge to run, and backed away from the godswood, step by step, the red eyes following her every move.
Heart trees, she recalled. That was what her father called them. They did not welcome her here, just as they did her mother; she was more Tully than Stark, with her mother’s auburn hair and sky blue eyes. You have your mother’s eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent. Blue as a sunlit sea. When you are a little older, many a man will drown in those eyes, Littlefinger had once told her. He was right..He did drown, never to be seen again. She found herself walking in the cold dark crypts, the dead Kings of Winter staring blankly ahead, with eyes of stone. She stopped in front of her father.
It did not look like him.
Aside him, a direwolf of stone stood guard, baring it’s teeth at Sansa. A longsword of steel lay across his lap, half covered in rust, the once shining colors now gone. It should be Ice, Sansa thought sadly. But Ice was no more, and so was Ned Stark, her father.
She looked up at the stony face of a stranger immortalized in stone, the one who was supposed to be her father. No one will know his great deeds, or who he was, anymore. No one but the Starks of Winterfell.
Ironically, that reminded her of the old days, which seemed a different world from now. She remembered going into the crypts with Robb, Bran, Rickon, and Arya. It had been terrifying at her age, and she had followed at the end. A ghost had came out of the coffins, and she had ran… and then she had heard Jon’s laughter, and Arya’s voice: “You stupid! You scared the baby!” Sansa smiled, despite everything.
“Your father was a good man,” a feeble voice suddenly said. Sansa turned to see maester Melwys standing next to her. The old man was remarkably good at catching people by unawares, despite his age.
“What are you doing here?” She blurted out before she could stop herself. Her cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry, I only meant to-“
The ancient maester did not seem to mind. Or hear her, for that matter. His eyes were half closed, and he was swaying slightly from side to side, as if listening to music. When he opened them, Sansa saw that they were a bluish grey, and were as soft as the nighttime clouds.
“You’re…you look like a Stark,” Sansa said, narrowing her eyes. She examined the maester’s solemn face, his long white hair almost floating off his shoulders. “But there are only four left.”
The maester chuckled. “No, but you are close. I was a Karstark, yet many say that I have more Stark blood than Karstark.” He continued to listen to the music that Sansa could not hear. “No one knew of me. I loved to read, and my father disapproved, and exiled me from my house, and the family that my roots hold sway is now gone from both the world and people’s hearts.”
. Sansa tried to think of a reply.
“Listen,” maester Melwys said. “Even now, the wolves still weep for their fallen king.” It was true, Sansa knew; she concentrated on the howls of wolves mixed with the whistling of wind; the sounds were cold and brittle, as if they were mourning. “Their king died?” She asked.
The maester allowed himself a little bitter smile. “A long, long, time ago,” gesturing to the statue.
Sansa felt stupid. She was always the slowest to learn, unlike her sister Arya, but she liked the way the old man thought, because it warmed her heart to know- no, imagine, that the wolves remembered.
“Eddard was a solemn man, seldom smiling. And a honorable man too. Once someone had a promise from him, he would avenge it, and he thought others would do the same. He was wrong.”
“He was,” Sansa said in a small, coarse voice. Jon Snow. “Did he know you?”
“Barely,” the maester replied. “But I knew him well. I would watch as he practiced sword fighting in the yard, and I could even tell him from the sound of his footsteps. Rickard did not let me near him, or any of his children.”
The maester fingered the chain slung across his neck. His shoulders seemed to sag under the weight of it, as if it were made of lead. Sansa could see gold, silver, steel, copper, bronze…and valyrian steel.
“He said that I was filling their heads with stories. They were fake, he told me. I remember that the children loved hearing them, save for Brandon, the oldest. He scoffed at them, and he said that wolves did not listen to such tales, if I remember correctly. Ah, well. At least Lyanna and Benjen did listen, Benjen most intensely of all. Maybe that was why he took the black. And Lyanna, what a fierce girl she was! She was clos-”
He was cut short by a young youth of no more than twenty. “Your…grace…” he panted, looking meekly up at Sansa. “It’s time for you to go back the throne room. I mean, get back to the throne room. I mean,-”
“The queen knows,” maester Melwys replied. “Don’t you, Stark?”
“I…yes.” Maester Melwys, if you please."
The maester bowed respectfully and moved aside for her. Sansa looked at her father one last time, and left for the throne room, with the maester trailing at her heels.
Winterfell had been built over hot springs; the hot water flowed through the walls and the floors like blood flowed through a man’s veins, filling the halls with steam, as it had before.
Sansa sat on a throne of iron, with images of direwolves engraved on it, and many patterns that were smooth to the touch, and it bore no blades as the iron throne had. Sansa did not feel worthy of it, though, no more than she felt worthy of the lady of Winterfell. The carved direwolves glared unwelcoming at her, and she knew why. There had been no queens of winter before.
A peasant was already kneeling on the ground, with tears in his eyes. His face was dirty and streaked with white marks that Sansa assumed were what tears had left on his face, and he wore a simple brown shirt that looked suspiciously like a potato bag.
“Rise,” Sansa told him. She pitied the smallfolk; they had to live with what they had, and they did not have much. The peasant arose, and Sansa saw that his face was swollen and bruised; his nose broken, and he had a black eye. It was gruesome to set her eyes upon; but Sansa forced herself to look. Queens have to handle this everyday. If I cannot bear to see even this, then what kind of queen am I?
“What have you come here for?” Sansa asked. The peasant seemed to be terrified by her voice; he was scared of her. She realized she must lower her voice down, and that was what she did. “What is your name?”
“I…I …I mean… my…name is… Cregan, if…if it please your…your…grace.” Cregan was shaking so badly that Sansa feared he might fall.
“Why have you come here?” Sansa asked softly. Cregan lifted his eyes to look at her, and whispered: “Raiders.” Sansa could see his eyes darting from left to right, as if the raiders were in this room, waiting for him.
“Raiders,” Sansa said. What could they want from the people?” “How many?”
“M…more than…fifty…your…your grace. A…all armed in…castle forged steel.”
Fifty, Sansa thought. All in castle-forged steel. They must be sent from some lord, but Winterfell is not a place famous for their riches. “Why? What did they do?”
“They murdered our women and children with knifes, and stole goods from the corpses. Then…then they just disappeared. There seemed to be a leader, though. A tall, thin man, all in black, with a hood pulled over his face.”
“Double the city guards,” Sansa raised her voice so all could hear. “And send Ser Simon and his men after a band of outlaws. The leader is a tall, thin man. If you see them, follow them at a distance, until you are sure that they are the same raiders that attacked last night.”
In real life, the monsters win. But not this one, I won’t let him. He will get what he gave to those people. He will pay, and I will not stop before he does. So what if I am a monster? As long as I devour other monsters and protect my children, I am not entirely heartless. Not good, but not ruthless either.
“Daggers…? Did the corpses, by any chance, have their faces removed?” Maester Melwys suddenly asked.
“Well… yes. Half of them.”
“Faceless men,” Sansa heard Melwys mutter under his breath. “A half-trained one, perhaps? Not likely, but still…”
“Make sure that the people get their earnings back. Two stags for every man, woman, and children who were robbed.” Sansa could see that the man’s jaw was opened in surprise. “If you do not have any other matters, you may leave.”
“Thank…thank y…you, your grace,” Cregan’s eyes were wide as he scrambled to his feet. “I w… will always be in you…your debt.” He disappeared behind the doors.
More people came and went, most telling of the outlaw band that attacked. Sansa listened, and consoled them, and listened, and paid them for their losses, and listened, and listened some more, until the noon sun was beginning to darken. Only then did Sansa arise to have meals.
She stood, and walked as queenly as she could to the door. Step by step, she felt the warmth of the stones even through her shoes, and she did not feel cold anymore. This was home to her. This was Winterfell, warm and safe and comfortable. No one- not the Lannisters, not the Boltons, not the Greyjoys, absolutely no one, could ever breach these grey walls, Sansa knew; she belonged here. Her mother, her father, Robb, Rickon, Bran, even Arya and Jon belonged here, safe and happy beyond it’s great stone walls. The sound of laughter once echoed through this very hall, Sansa thought. But now it was devoid of any sound, save for her own steps.
Clang. Sansa’s foot hit something metallic and cold, definitely not a part of the floor. She lifted her foot and saw the glint of iron, suppressed into a small disc, tiny and unsignificant, yet at the same time, seeming to glow with power, the crude carving somehow frightening. Sansa’s curiosity got the better of her, and she knelt and picked it up, in plain sight of all the lords and ladies.
A iron coin. The iron coin of Bravvos.
No. No, no, no no, no, no no no.
Littlefinger died here, this exact same spot. Littlefinger was supposed to be dead.
Littlefinger is alive, but he’s dead, I saw him die…Sansa stood immediately, scanning the room for those she knew. “Where was Littlefinger buried?”
Sir Dontos blinked. “He was buried in-”
I need to go, now, never mind the outlaws, never mind the thieves, never mind ANYTHING! Littlefinger is alive, and the north now faces a threat bigger than anything. “Never mind that. Bring me there, along with a few men with shovels. Now. Maester Melwys, you come too.”
The poor knight looked confused. “Your grace, may I ask-”
“No!” Sansa yelled, with a fierceness in her she knew existed. “Now!” She could see lords and ladies looking like her like she was crazy, and she hoped she was, but she didn’t care. She left, turning the coin in her hands as she went.
Sansa arrived by horse, and even though she rode her horse as fast as she could, and it only took a few minute, it still felt like an eternity. When she got there, she commanded the men to dig.
Sir Dontos stared at her as if she was a tyrant. “Your Grace, are you sure-”
Sansa was about to yell at him again, but she regained her composure. It’s just Littlefinger. Just Littlefinger. But what was Littlefinger? “You will do as I command.”
Dirt flew from the grave, and the passing people gave her strange looks, but she didn’t care. The ground sunk deeper and deeper as more and more dirt were shoveled away. And suddenly Sansa saw armored crows digging at her grave. She blinked, and they were only men again, scratching away at a mound of dirt. She wanted to jump into the hole herself, to dig at the grave with her nails, and see for herself what secrets were buried within.
Finally, the sound of dirt falling stopped, and Sansa knelt down to see who- or what, was within. A hooded figure, motionless in the ground, yet somehow not decayed. A black shawl covered his or her face, and Sansa brushed it away.
A stranger’s face stared back at her, her glassy blue eyes seeming to mock her, her long blonde hair curled around her neck as if to strangle herself. Not Littlefinger. And in the folds of her clothes…
“Faces,” Maester Melwys whispered, seemingly horrified.
Littlefinger had escaped. He always had some way to weasel out of every mess that he had caused, and he had weaseled out of this one too. I should have known. I’m stupid, Sansa thought.
She remembered Littlefinger, smiling slyly and stroking his beard as he whispered in Queen Cersei’s ear. Littlefinger, who had started the war between the Starks and the Lannisters. Littlefinger, who had captured her father, and brought him to the dungeons only to be beheaded. Littlefinger, who betrayed her mother though she once saved her life. Littlefinger, who pushed her aunt Lysa through the moon door. Littlefinger, who tried to pit Arya against her, before disappearing once more.
“Ready the horses. Send letters to the lords and ladies of the Six Kingdoms, and the Wall.” Sansa thought a bit. “And Arya, too.”
Hey people, this is my first time writing and if you see anything wrong, or something you don't like, (Littlefinger is mean, but he plays a big part in the events) then tell me in the comments!
In my opinion practically house Stark has extinct with the death of Rickon. The only alive mebers of the Stark family are:
Jon Snow: who is not even a stark
Sansa Stark: who is a woman so she and her children will take her husband's name (this is the Westerosi tradition according to Missandrei)
Arya Stark: same with her sister, eventhough I don't think she will ever get married
Bran Stark: even if he is a man I don't think that he is planning to get married or to have children. I think that he is not interested anymore to things that prove that he is human and no three-eye raven. Also I just realized that he has also drop his family name from his tittle (check it out in Fandom wiki, just write his name)
What's your opinion???
Am I right right or wrong???
I just want you to be objective....plz ;-)
Here are some of my (least) favorite lines of S8!
“You should consider yourself lucky. At least your balls don’t freeze off.”
“You take great offense at dwarf jokes, but you love telling eunuch jokes, why is that?”
“Because I have balls, and you don’t.”
Source: Tyrion and Varys, Winterfell.
“We need more horses and wagons if it please, my lady. And my lord. And my queen. Sorry.”
Source: Ned Umber, Winterfell (Why the fuck even make a joke out of all this).
“‘Your Grace’. But you’re not, are you? You left Winterfell a king and you came back with...I’m not sure what you are now. A lord? Nothing at all?”
“It’s not important.”
“Not important? We named you king in the North!”
Source: Lyanna Mormont and Jon Snow, Winterfell.
“If anyone survives the war to come, we’ll have Jon Snow to thank. He risked his life to show us the threat is real. Thanks to his courage, we’ve brought with us the greatest army the North ever seen. We have two full grown dragons. And soon, the Lannister army will join our cause. I know, I know, our people haven’t been friends in the past. But we must fight together now or die.”
Source: Tyrion Lannister, Winterfell. (What an uninspiring speech)
“What do dragons eat anyway?” (Resting bitchface.png)
“Whatever they want.” (Emojiwithsunglasses.jpg)
Source: Sansa Stark and Daenerys Targaryen, Winterfell.
“I’m sure you weren’t thrilled to hear that the Lannister army is coming. You have any right to fear my sister. Trust me, nobody fears my sister more than I do, but I promise you that you’ll be safe...”
“Cersei told you her army would come North, to fight for you?”
“She did.”“You believed her?”
“She has something to live for now. I believe she wants to survive.”
“I used to think you were the cleverest man in the world.”
Source: Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark, Winterfell.
“You used to be taller.”“How did you sneak up on me?”
“How did you survive a knife through the heart?”
*Changes subject after without even further asking*
Source: Arya Stark and Jon Snow, Winterfell.
“She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
Source: Arya Stark, having met the smartest person on the show (Drogon), Winterfell.
“We’re the last Greyjoys left in the world. Or the last ones with balls, anyway.”
Source: Euron Greyjoy, Winterfell.
“But first, I’m going to fuck the queen!”
Source: Euron Greyjoy, Winterfell.
“No elephants, Your Grace.”
“That’s disappointing. I was told the Golden Company had dragons?”
Source: Cersei Lannister and Harry Strickland, Winterfell.
“I gave her justice, an army, and the Iron Fleet. Yet she gives me no signs of affection. My heart is nearly broken.”
“You’re insolent. I’ve executed men for less.”
“They were lesser men.”
*Whole scene playing after that is cringeworthy and stupid*
Source: Euron Greyjoy and Cersei Lannister, Winterfell.
“What would she do for the man who killed her treasonous brothers?”
Source: Qyburn, Winterfell. (Reason is because she spared Jaime previous ep.
“I really wanted those elephants.”
Source: Cersei Lannister, Winterfell.
“You’re not boring, I’ll give you that.”
“Do I please the queen?”
“You may be the most arrogant man I’ve ever met. I like that.”
Source: Cersei Lannister, Winterfell.
“What is dead may never die.”
“But kill the bastards anyway.”
Source: Theon Greyjoy and Yara Greyjoy, Winterfell.
“They do make a handsome couple.”
Source: Tyrion Lannister, Winterfell. (I hate Jonerys)
“Your sister doesn’t like me.” :(
Source: Daenerys Targaryen, Winterfell.
“I don’t know how to ride a dragon.”
“Nobody does, until they ride a dragon.”
Source: Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen, Winterfell. (Could have said ‘one’ or something instead of repeating dragon)
“It’s cold out here for a southern girl.”
“So keep your queen warm.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
*Drogon being a comedic genius*
Source: Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen, Winterfell.
“She’ll be a good queen. For all of us. She’s not her father.”
Source: Jon Snow, Winterfell. (Also all other Jon and Sansa scenes)
“Daenerys is our queen.”
Source: Jon Snow, Winterfell, because that’ll be repeated ten times at least.
Some of these were more cringeworthy than others. Some I may have judged too harshly. But it doesn't matter to me.
Also, some extras would probably be majority of Euron's scenes, Jon and Daenerys, every scene that has Daenerys being bullied (Actually I'm starting to like her a little when I rewatch because everyone got mad on her before she did anything wrong even) etc. I'd add them but I really didn't have the patience to write down everything.
Some of the scenes with lines that I kinda liked were probably the majority of:
The Samwell and Daenerys scene.
Jon and Samwell.
Beric, Tormund and Eddison Tollett.
On a show , that cares so much about its legacies and dynasties how will House Stark survive? Bran can't have children, Arya doesn't want to settle down . Only unless Sansa marries someone from a lesser house , they take her better (royal) name of "Stark" and their child is "Stark". Or Sansa/her child has a double barreled surname like "Glover-Stark ".