A Maiden With Snow In Her Hair
For The Jonsa Holiday Anthology, Baby It's Cold Outside
The snow fell heavily outside the castle's keep, blanketing the world in quiet serenity —peaceful in all its wondrous chaos. High up in the tower, the old woman at the window smiled, the candle in her hand reflecting off the blue irises of her eyes —still sparkling with wisdom, and all the treasured secrets she kept close to her heart.
"It's cold outside," Her warm breath frosted the glass, as she watched the snowflakes twirl and dance as they fell softly to the ground below. "Snuggle in my Sweetlings," she finally turned from the window, to regard the two rosy cheeked little girls bouncing excitedly on the bed behind her, "Old Gran will tell you a story."
Her gait slow, but ever graceful, she moved towards the roaring hearth, the silks of her gown whispering with her carefully measured steps. She settled her old bones into her favorite chair, pulling a fur up over her lap to ward away the chill of the evening.
"Tell us the one about Brienne the Brave who slayed the mighty black dragon!" Arya clapped her pudgy hands together, her glorious mop of black curls bobbing wildly atop her little head.
"We've heard that one a million times. Tell us something new, Gran!"
"Hush now, the two of you," the old woman scolded, as she settled more comfortably in her chair, a wistful look in her old worn eyes. "Once upon a time, so very, very long ago there lived a beautiful Northern princess with fire in her hair, and a song in her tender heart."
"Fire in her hair? Like me?" Catelyn squealed excitedly, tugging at her auburn braid.
"Indeed," Gran nodded.
"No fair," Arya pouted, crossing her arms over her chest with an indignant little harrumph.
"Shhh, hush I said," Gran continued. "Now where was I? Oh yes ...every day right before dusk, she would steal away into the Godswood ..."
Holding her skirts so they wouldn't trip her up, Sansa dashed across the courtyard, her dainty feet crunching in the snow underfoot. She paid no mind to the curious eyes following her. All day long she'd been the dutiful daughter —the perfect little lady, sitting tirelessly through all of Septa Mordane's lessons ...sewing, and whatever else was required of her, but this —this was her time.
Through the trees she ran, deep into the Godswood, until breathlessly, she collapsed upon the smooth bark of the Heart Tree. Taking shelter under its fiery leaves, she whispered up a prayer of thanks to the Gods —both old and new. The snow fell softly around her, the crisp cold air nipping at her cheeks and staining them a rosy pink, Sansa shirked her fur cloak and draped it at the foot of the Heart Tree. It would only impede her movements, and the steam of the hot springs would keep her plenty warm.
Stepping into the clearing, Sansa cast a nervous glance this way and that —making certain that no one had followed her, it never hurt to be thorough, after all. Satisfied, she held out a dainty hand, fingers poised and straight, then curled them in and dropped into a dramatic curtsey, smiling sweetly at her invisible suitor.
"Hmmm, hmmmm, hmmm, ohhhh, ohhhh," Humming softly to the tune she carried within her heart, Sansa danced —her steps carefree and light, she flit across the snow covered ground.
Her arms extending, palms open wide to capture the snowflakes falling around her. Large and small, drifting, floating, they fell upon her, delicately kissing the tip of her nose and eyelashes. Giggling, she twirled round and round, her blue skirts catching in the winds and billowing out around her, like the petals of a winter rose, opening for the sun's love.
And that's how he found her —porcelain skin kissed pink with joy and the bite of the white winds, snow catching in the red of her hair, as she glided around in the frozen wonderland like an enchanted creature of lore ... A maiden with snow in her hair.
"Who Gran? Who found her?" Catelyn shrieked impatiently. "Was he a prince?"
"He was," Gran nodded with a solemn smile. "But the princess didn't know it yet."
Sansa froze, her skirts bunching as she stopped short, panic seizing her tender heart and stealing away her breath, as Jon stepped out into the clearing. Her carefully guarded secret had been discovered. Would he tell? Give her away? He certainly had every reason to do so —with the cold indifference she had taken to bestowing upon him.
Shamefully, Sansa cast her eyes to the snowy ground at her feet and worried her bottom lip. Perhaps she should say something —but what? She'd only embarrass herself more, she realized, as tears pricked the backs of her eyelids and she forced herself to summon the courage to raise her gaze —her chin held high.
His boots crunched in the snow, and then Jon stood before her, snowflakes glistening amongst his mop of black curls. He said nothing —with a grand sweep of his arm, he tossed his cloak over his shoulder and bowed gallantly before her, straightening and extending his gloved hand.
Her breath quickening, Sansa searched Jon's face —it yielded none of his thoughts, gave nothing away —but his eyes held a gentle kindness in their deep grey depths. Hesitantly, she inched her hand towards his palm, her fingertips dancing lightly over the smooth leather of his glove. She curtsied politely, as Jon's fingers closed over hers, and he drew her into his arms.
"Did he kiss her?" Catelyn gushed, laying her little hand against her heart, a dreamy look in her eyes.
"Bleh, gross!" Arya wailed, covering her ears. "No kissing Gran, please!"
Gran chuckled, her frail shoulders shaking. "No loves, he didn't kiss her. Not on this day. But they danced, and danced ..."
Gracefully, they moved together through the clearing, Jon's feet steady and sure, his strong arms remarkably gentle as he held and led her. And her fear forgotten, Sansa hummed, the soft melody of her voice swirling around them with the falling snow. Twirling, prancing, up and over, down and around, their feet barely touching the ground, they soared —together, apart, and together again.
They danced, and they danced, and they danced some more, until the night sky was upon them and darkness fell over the land, sweeping the Godswood in shadows. No words were exchanged as Jon bowed again, Sansa answering in a polite curtsey, and they stepped apart. He waited patiently as she collected her cloak from under the Heart Tree, and kept a few steps behind her as they made their way back to Winterfell —back to their respective places.
He never gave away her secret ...
Gran paused, rubbing at her tired eyes, and drew a deep shuddering breath.
"That's it?" Arya complained. "Just tell us about Brienne the Brave!"
"Did he ever dance with her again, Gran?" Catelyn looked close to tears.
Gran shook her head slowly. "Not for many, many years. You see, the Princess was sent away to a southern kingdom, and it took her a long time to find her way back home."
"And the Prince?"
"He went away as well," Gran explained. "Farther north, to become a mighty warrior, the bravest of knights to protect all of mankind from an endless night."
"And did he?" Arya's interest was suddenly renewed.
Gran smiled, "of course he did. And that is why the seasons change, my loves. Why the sun kisses our skin with warmth in the summer, and the leaves change colors and fall in the autumn. Why the snows fall and the white winds blow cold in the winter, but in spring, everything begins anew again."
"And when did they see each other again, Gran?" Catelyn persisted.
The chamber door creaked open, a snout peeping round the corner as the old direwolf lumbered into the room. His movements slow and clumsy as he hobbled himself over to the bed and clambered up, plopping himself amidst the furs. The girls giggled with delight, the story momentarily forgotten as they scratched old Ghost behind the ears, his tongue lolling in contentment.
"It was when the knight returned home," another voice called from the doorway. "He returned to the Godswood to find the maiden grown, praying beneath the Heart Tree for his safe return. Snow, in her hair."
"How do you know, Grandpa?" Arya challenged him, as he crept into the room, moving towards the fire with a slow, purposeful gait.
"Because I was there, Sweet One." He moved to stand before his wife, taking her hands in his equally withered ones, he gently pulled her to her feet, the fur slipping from her lap. "And he drew her into his arms, as such."
Sansa stepped over the fallen fur, careful not to let it trip up in her skirts, as Jon led her to the center of the room and dipped into a gallant bow —albeit slowly. She curtsied in turn, ever as gracefully, even as her old bones kept her from going as low as she did in her youth.
"And they danced!" Catelyn squealed excitedly, as Arya rolled her eyes and flopped dramatically onto her pillow.
"And they danced," Sansa smiled at her loving husband, her gallant knight —his grey eyes still holding that same gentle warmth.
Jon twirled her around the room, her gray skirts swishing as they flowed around her —and they were young again. The maiden with snow in her hair, and forever in her tender heart.
A/N: This story was heavily inspired by Edward Scissorhands, and the Ice Dance song in the movie.
And a poem my dear friend was inspired to write after reading my story:
The snow fell outside the castle's keep,
High up from the tower, an old woman did peep,
A smile from her blue eyes very softly did seep,
When she remembered the secrets her heart would keep.
About a northern princess with fire in her hair,
Who danced under the heart tree with finesse and flair,
About a boy who couldn't help but stare,
And fell in love with her right then and there,
But no one knew that he was a prince, the realm's heir and the answer to her prayer.
About the Prince's journey far north, to become a mighty warrior – the bravest of knights,
For he was destined to save all of mankind from an endless night,
About the princess's journey to a southern kingdom,
Where she gathered courage and fought with wisdom.
About the Knight's return home,
When he found the princess grown,
How they danced under the heart tree,
The King and Queen to be!
About the maiden with snow in her hair,
And forever and ever in her heart
The old woman's eyes had a spark,
Cause this was her own story - about the love of Jon Snow and Sansa Stark.