My take on season 8 of #GameofThrones.
Winter is coming to Westeros as Daenerys and Jon go North to fight the great threat.
The Night king's army grows larger and stronger, the days get colder and the nights darker.
Arya, Bran and Sansa struggle to...
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The snow was falling and an ice cold wind blew in the air. The rays of the sun squeezed through the many clouds and reflected on the snow flakes making it hard not to squint. Brienne stood in front of two dozen of apprentices, none were as tall as her but all had good stature. She gave a speech she seemed very passionate about, that Sansa would've loved to listen to, had she had the mental space for it. At the back of the crowd her mind wandered in the empty, looking for a place of peace, in vain. Sansa hadn't been in peace for a long while now. It didn't matter though, there were far more important matters for her to worry about than the inner tranquility she had lost. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath and chased away the thoughts that polluted her spirit to shift her focus on what Brienne was saying.
Her voice resonated in the yard with a vivacity that spiked some hope even in Sansa's desperate heart , «When you hold a weapon you have to be ready to use it. If you're afraid to use it, it makes it a weapon against you —», she marked a short pause to look at the faces screwed up out of helplessness of the women facing her. Her heart ached. The battlefield was no place for them, they had not been raised to know the horrors of war. She sigh deeply, « —It is hard to take a life. No matter how many times you do it. No one gets used to kill. —», she shook her head, « — Despite that, when you swing your swords, never hesitate.»
That's what Sansa used to believe. About the killing. The thought of a whole person vanishing at the tip of a blade inspired so much horror to her. Until she killed, herself. Not by her blade ofcourse, her lady's manners wouldn't allow her to stir such a mess. But still, she murdered and felt no worry or fear, nor regret or remorse, not the slightest drop of guilt but a complete sense of relief that only lasted for a moment. She had always thought of death as a finality but death kills a man, not his actions. Ramsey was dead. And had been for a long time. Yet he'd never left her side. He was with her still, even now while she stood in the yard of her childhood home he had stained, maybe just as much as he had stained her. A pretty curtain of pretence, carefully drawn before all of her struggles prevented anyone to notice the distress eating her away. Her spirit was easily the most troubled amongst the crowd yet she was the only head held high. Just like her siblings, through her veins flowed the wolf-blood of the Starks and a wilderness she had molded into a crown, that she wore like a queen.
The sound of a fall pulled her back to the present. « Are you alright? » asked Sansa as she extended her hand to help the young woman up. « Forgive me, milady, —» she said as she brushed the snow off of her coat, « —I'm just fine ! » assured the young woman. "Fine", thought Sansa as she looked at the hole on the girls sleeve and at her hands, bare in the cold. Her fingerstips had turned dark blue and by her weak grasp Sansa could tell she could hardly move them. She kept her voice down but her eyes widened. « Where are your gloves ? It's freezing, —» she cupped the girl's hands into hers, « — you will loose your fingers! »
The girl kept her eyes down, « I don't have gloves milady.. » Sansa was surprised by that response she, definitely, didn't expect. She frowned, « Don't they make them in your village? » « They used to, but not anymore. » « Why not? Winter only started we will all need them now more than ever. » « I know milady, but there's no leather to make them since all the cattle has been ceased by Lord Bolton along with all the crops. Winter came out of the blue as we were trying to grow some grains again. The week of the first frosts we had only a leg of ham left, from the last slaughter. We'd each have a pinch once a day, it lasted a couple moons, but eventually not even the bone remained. — » she tried to hide it but the obvious and heavy pain clouded her already exhausted features, « — After my mother's death I went to the neighbors and tried to trade her boots for a piece of bread. They asked for my gloves also, and... » she let out a sad chuckle, « —one can live with no gloves but not without bread, right ? »
