gift!fic round one: [A Song of Ice and Fire]: Snow Queen
She kept thinking of home. If only she was there, Lady romping around her, Arya hurling snowballs at trees and Robb laughing as Grey Wind wrestled with Shaggydog. The sob caught, stifled quickly, in her throat.
“Alayne?” Sansa quickly hid her face in her knees so Mya wouldn’t know she was crying, but of course Mya knew anyway, and came over to sit silently next to her on the windowsill. Sansa sniffed and hugged her knees.
“Do you know any songs, Mya?”
“Me? Gods, no. You don’t want to hear me sing anyways. What’s the matter?”
My family’s dead. But she couldn’t tell even Mya that much. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just - one of those days.” I’m scared and lonely and cold.
“Come outside with me,” Mya said suddenly. Sansa turned and looked at her, bemused.
“But it’s freezing.”
“That’s why you’ll wear plenty of clothes, right? Come with me. You can catch snowflakes on your tongue.” She took Sansa’s hand and tugged her gently toward the edge of the sill, and Sansa had neither the heart nor the will to resist her.
“What kind of clothes,” she said, flushing for her ignorance. “I don’t know if I have enough.”
“I’ll help you find them,” Mya said, firmly. “You’re coming outside with me. No more looking out of windows for you.”
When Sansa first emerged from her chambers, Mya shook her head at once. “No, not enough. You want to look funny and puffy.”
“You don’t,” Sansa objected, and Mya laughed.
“That’s because I’m used to it, silly. You’d freeze indoors in those. Don’t try to look pretty, it won’t help out in the snow.” Sansa retreated reluctantly, and just to spite her friend, piled on all the clothes she could fit on herself while still able to walk, and emerged. To her chagrin, Mya smiled.
“That’s better. Now come. You at least need to taste a snowflake.”
Mya took her out the servant’s door, which confused her for a moment before she remembered that she was supposed to be a bastard. There was a short, chilly hallway and then they burst out into a silent world.
There was no wind, so the snow was eddying straight down, whirling and spinning like dancers before melting into the blanket of white. Sansa stepped forward and plunged in up to her shins. “I’ve never seen this much,” Mya said, sounding awed. “I mean, there’s always a little. But not like this.”
Sansa bent down and touched the snow, grateful for her mittens. She scooped up a little. It felt soft and powdery in her hands, not like ice. She let it fall through her fingers. “Is that bad?”
“No, not necessarily. Just strange.” Mya jumped off the doorstep into the snow herself. “Here, stick out your tongue and tilt your head back until a snowflake lands on it.”
Sansa obeyed, feeling terribly silly standing with her tongue out looking up at the sky. Some of the snowflakes caught on her eyelashes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them out of her eyes, but they melted so fast they hardly seemed to land. She almost missed the snowflake on her tongue the same way, but for the brief spot of cold it left behind as it vanished.
“They don’t taste like anything!” she cried, accusingly. Mya laughed.
“Of course they don’t. But doesn’t it feel funny? Let’s not stay here, Alayne. Follow me.” Mya clambered awkwardly through the snow, heading toward the trees and a little hill, but Sansa hung back.
“I shouldn’t go far.”
“We’re not going far,” Mya called over her shoulder, voice strangely muffled through the falling snow, and the we made Sansa’s tummy feel so warm that she started pushing through the snow after her.
It was hard work, and awkward, and she felt over with a yelp several times until Mya came back and showed her how to take big steps, lifting her knees and brushing off her skirt when it grew heavy with snow. “I feel silly,” she said, and Mya grinned.
“That’s the point. At least you don’t feel sad. We’re going up to the top of that hill.” Sansa groaned, and Mya scrambled back to help her up. “It’s not that far. You’ll see. And I’ve got an idea.”
They fought their way up the hill together, though Mya kept having to stop in her bounds ahead to wait for Sansa to catch up, and she didn’t seem nearly so flushed or out of breath. At the crest of the hill, Sansa simply flopped into the snow. “I’m just going to stay here and you tell me what your idea is.”
Mya stood over her. “You can’t stay there. We’re going to build a snow castle.” Sansa lifted her head.
“A snow castle? A little one?”
“No,” Mya’s grin broadened. “One that we can fit in. And it’ll be more of a snow lump, but that’s good enough. We’ll make it right here where you’re lying and if you pile the snow up right it’ll get warm, even though it’s made of snow. I did it one other time, but it was a really little one, and with this much snow we could make something big.”
Sansa blinked, a little. Mya always seemed so grown up when she looked at herself, but with the color high in her face she looked younger, and certainly wasn’t talking like a grown woman. She glanced back at the real castle and nodded, firmly.
“Let’s make it.”
**
Her hands were freezing and her teeth were chattering when they finished the last part of the fort around them, and Mya stopped up the last hole with just a little snow. “There,” she said, with satisfaction.
It was a good snow fortress. Big enough for both of them to sit comfortably in, and even if Sansa could still see her breath in the air, it was already warming up. Sansa scooted over and leaned against Mya anyway, and Mya put her arms around her without being asked.
“It’s good,” Sansa said, in a small voice. “We should just stay here. And be snow queens in our snow castle. And anyone that tried to come in that we didn’t want we could…could…”
“Freeze,” Mya said, nodding seriously. “We’d freeze them, and they’d be ice statues to warn everyone else away. ‘Snow queens.’ I like that. I think you’d make a better snow queen than I would, though. Say something imperious.”
“Imperious? I don’t know how to be imperious.” Sansa giggled, a little, and tried to remember what her mother had sounded like, but that made her want to cry. She tried Cersei instead. “I will not have this behavior in my castle,” she said, very dramatically, she thought, and Mya clapped her hands. It was almost as warm as in the castle in their little cave, now.
“See? That was very imperious. You can be a snow queen and I’ll take care of your mules.”
Sansa shook her head. “That doesn’t do at all. You’d have to be snow queen with me. Otherwise I would just be lost. Who ever heard of a queen ruling all by herself?”
“Who ever heard of two queens?”
Sansa giggled a little at that and turned her face into Mya’s shoulder. The fur on her friend’s hood tickled her nose. “Well, maybe not before. They can now,” she said, muffledly. Mya touched her hair, and Sansa felt some of the snow break off and trickle onto her scalp as it melted, but it wasn’t that cold.
“I hear Lord Baelish,” Mya said, and Sansa snuggled closer, closing her eyes as though she could just burrow together with Mya.
“Let’s not go. I want to stay here and be a snow queen with you.”
Mya hesitated, but only for a moment.
“All right. We’ll stay here. You can always say you didn’t hear him.”
It was nice and warm and quiet in their little snow cave. Sansa closed her eyes, even though she wasn’t tired. If she tried really hard, she could almost pretend that Mya smelled like flowers instead of mules and leather. “Snow Queen Mya,” she said. “I think it sounds just like a story.”
Robb would have liked Mya. And her father, too. She could just see holding Mya’s hand, introducing her to her family, and watched all her sisters and brothers and real parents smile and welcome them both home.
“Alayne?” Sansa quickly hid her face in her knees so Mya wouldn’t know she was crying, but of course Mya knew anyway, and came over to sit silently next to her on the windowsill. Sansa sniffed and hugged her knees.
“Do you know any songs, Mya?”
“Me? Gods, no. You don’t want to hear me sing anyways. What’s the matter?”
My family’s dead. But she couldn’t tell even Mya that much. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just - one of those days.” I’m scared and lonely and cold.
“Come outside with me,” Mya said suddenly. Sansa turned and looked at her, bemused.
“But it’s freezing.”
“That’s why you’ll wear plenty of clothes, right? Come with me. You can catch snowflakes on your tongue.” She took Sansa’s hand and tugged her gently toward the edge of the sill, and Sansa had neither the heart nor the will to resist her.
“What kind of clothes,” she said, flushing for her ignorance. “I don’t know if I have enough.”
“I’ll help you find them,” Mya said, firmly. “You’re coming outside with me. No more looking out of windows for you.”
When Sansa first emerged from her chambers, Mya shook her head at once. “No, not enough. You want to look funny and puffy.”
“You don’t,” Sansa objected, and Mya laughed.
“That’s because I’m used to it, silly. You’d freeze indoors in those. Don’t try to look pretty, it won’t help out in the snow.” Sansa retreated reluctantly, and just to spite her friend, piled on all the clothes she could fit on herself while still able to walk, and emerged. To her chagrin, Mya smiled.
“That’s better. Now come. You at least need to taste a snowflake.”
Mya took her out the servant’s door, which confused her for a moment before she remembered that she was supposed to be a bastard. There was a short, chilly hallway and then they burst out into a silent world.
There was no wind, so the snow was eddying straight down, whirling and spinning like dancers before melting into the blanket of white. Sansa stepped forward and plunged in up to her shins. “I’ve never seen this much,” Mya said, sounding awed. “I mean, there’s always a little. But not like this.”
Sansa bent down and touched the snow, grateful for her mittens. She scooped up a little. It felt soft and powdery in her hands, not like ice. She let it fall through her fingers. “Is that bad?”
“No, not necessarily. Just strange.” Mya jumped off the doorstep into the snow herself. “Here, stick out your tongue and tilt your head back until a snowflake lands on it.”
Sansa obeyed, feeling terribly silly standing with her tongue out looking up at the sky. Some of the snowflakes caught on her eyelashes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them out of her eyes, but they melted so fast they hardly seemed to land. She almost missed the snowflake on her tongue the same way, but for the brief spot of cold it left behind as it vanished.
“They don’t taste like anything!” she cried, accusingly. Mya laughed.
“Of course they don’t. But doesn’t it feel funny? Let’s not stay here, Alayne. Follow me.” Mya clambered awkwardly through the snow, heading toward the trees and a little hill, but Sansa hung back.
“I shouldn’t go far.”
“We’re not going far,” Mya called over her shoulder, voice strangely muffled through the falling snow, and the we made Sansa’s tummy feel so warm that she started pushing through the snow after her.
It was hard work, and awkward, and she felt over with a yelp several times until Mya came back and showed her how to take big steps, lifting her knees and brushing off her skirt when it grew heavy with snow. “I feel silly,” she said, and Mya grinned.
“That’s the point. At least you don’t feel sad. We’re going up to the top of that hill.” Sansa groaned, and Mya scrambled back to help her up. “It’s not that far. You’ll see. And I’ve got an idea.”
They fought their way up the hill together, though Mya kept having to stop in her bounds ahead to wait for Sansa to catch up, and she didn’t seem nearly so flushed or out of breath. At the crest of the hill, Sansa simply flopped into the snow. “I’m just going to stay here and you tell me what your idea is.”
Mya stood over her. “You can’t stay there. We’re going to build a snow castle.” Sansa lifted her head.
“A snow castle? A little one?”
“No,” Mya’s grin broadened. “One that we can fit in. And it’ll be more of a snow lump, but that’s good enough. We’ll make it right here where you’re lying and if you pile the snow up right it’ll get warm, even though it’s made of snow. I did it one other time, but it was a really little one, and with this much snow we could make something big.”
Sansa blinked, a little. Mya always seemed so grown up when she looked at herself, but with the color high in her face she looked younger, and certainly wasn’t talking like a grown woman. She glanced back at the real castle and nodded, firmly.
“Let’s make it.”
**
Her hands were freezing and her teeth were chattering when they finished the last part of the fort around them, and Mya stopped up the last hole with just a little snow. “There,” she said, with satisfaction.
It was a good snow fortress. Big enough for both of them to sit comfortably in, and even if Sansa could still see her breath in the air, it was already warming up. Sansa scooted over and leaned against Mya anyway, and Mya put her arms around her without being asked.
“It’s good,” Sansa said, in a small voice. “We should just stay here. And be snow queens in our snow castle. And anyone that tried to come in that we didn’t want we could…could…”
“Freeze,” Mya said, nodding seriously. “We’d freeze them, and they’d be ice statues to warn everyone else away. ‘Snow queens.’ I like that. I think you’d make a better snow queen than I would, though. Say something imperious.”
“Imperious? I don’t know how to be imperious.” Sansa giggled, a little, and tried to remember what her mother had sounded like, but that made her want to cry. She tried Cersei instead. “I will not have this behavior in my castle,” she said, very dramatically, she thought, and Mya clapped her hands. It was almost as warm as in the castle in their little cave, now.
“See? That was very imperious. You can be a snow queen and I’ll take care of your mules.”
Sansa shook her head. “That doesn’t do at all. You’d have to be snow queen with me. Otherwise I would just be lost. Who ever heard of a queen ruling all by herself?”
“Who ever heard of two queens?”
Sansa giggled a little at that and turned her face into Mya’s shoulder. The fur on her friend’s hood tickled her nose. “Well, maybe not before. They can now,” she said, muffledly. Mya touched her hair, and Sansa felt some of the snow break off and trickle onto her scalp as it melted, but it wasn’t that cold.
“I hear Lord Baelish,” Mya said, and Sansa snuggled closer, closing her eyes as though she could just burrow together with Mya.
“Let’s not go. I want to stay here and be a snow queen with you.”
Mya hesitated, but only for a moment.
“All right. We’ll stay here. You can always say you didn’t hear him.”
It was nice and warm and quiet in their little snow cave. Sansa closed her eyes, even though she wasn’t tired. If she tried really hard, she could almost pretend that Mya smelled like flowers instead of mules and leather. “Snow Queen Mya,” she said. “I think it sounds just like a story.”
Robb would have liked Mya. And her father, too. She could just see holding Mya’s hand, introducing her to her family, and watched all her sisters and brothers and real parents smile and welcome them both home.