prev. goodqueenalys // semi hiatus

“She was always Arya Stark, even when she wasn’t. When the wars were over and the battles won, the only one left was the battle that raged inside. The guilt, the shame, the nightmares, the horrors of accepting that she was Arya Stark, all that time. After a thousand years of running, the hardest part was stopping.”

Daenerys sits the Iron Throne while Sansa rules as Queen in the North. Dany’s nephew Jon and Sansa were made to marry in order to unite the North and South, and it was not a marriage of love. 

The night before Jon must leave to head a campaign against the final hold out of would be usurpers in the North, he runs into an unlikely drinking companion.

Arya Stark I am a direwolf, and done with the wooden teeth.

Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she’d slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing.

“rowdy, cocksure, temperamental, and violent. he was more wildling, than prince, more wolf than man. but perhaps that was what it meant to be a stark anyways.”