Sansa Stark.
Even her name seemed ice cold and harsh.
Gone was the naïve youth who had come to Kings Landing in search of love and a throne. He had seen that flower of the north wither away. The death of her father, the destruction of her house. So many tragedies had befallen her, it was hardly surprising.
Everyone had a coping mechanism. She still danced, still did her needle work, still sang but the life was gone from every movement.
As he watched the hard girl from the north bow her head and accept the beatings he couldn't stop himself from wishing her free. Even though it would mean losing her presence, maybe then the joy would return to Sansa Stark.
Thanks for reading. Watched the show recently and so I started reading the books. This little snapshot just wanted to get out.