Game of Thrones - Sansa/Sandor - Boys of Summer, Men of Winter
Title: Boys of Summer, Men of Winter
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Prompt: 072 - Winter
Pairing: Sansa/Sandor
Words: 576
Rating: G
Sansa sits at her window and looks outside. She observes how the beautiful flowers sway in the soft warm wind and their scent is carried over to her, surrounding the girl.
She remembers a time when she had to smile at that … right at the beginning when her life seemed to be perfect. She had finally escaped the dullness of Winterfell, the cold, the snow … finally she had been allowed to see the sun, to wear the finest clothing (even the same cloth as the queen!) and had her very own prince. He was so lordly, handsome and gallant, and she was so in love. In love with love, with the dream of her perfect marriage, with the picture of herself being queen one day. People were supposed to love her for being beautiful and courteous, a fair and just queen at the side of a good king.
Joffrey was supposed to be the light illuminating her life, the first ray of sunshine in the winter storm that had been her daily routine. With blonde hair like spun gold and green eyes, he was her summer-prince.
But oh, had she been wrong … it hadn’t been the heat of summer but the heat of hell he brought over her, not love but hate, hate for the first time in her life. Sansa had never despised anyone - until she had to face the true nature of her precious prince.
And then, when Margaery Tyrell had come along and told her about Highgarden, about Willas - intelligent, caring, gentle Willas - she abandoned the dream of being queen and just wanted to lead a life with a man who cherished her, who she could talk to … and who did not let her get beaten.
She imagined a life with Margaery as her sister, with sunny peaceful days, meeting new people, having friends, having … finally a life worth living. She wanted to justify the trust Margaery put in her, wanted to be a good wife to Willas …
But again these dreams turned out to be just as stupid as the other ones she dreamed.
Sansa sighs and mourns the girl she once was.
All she ever wanted was to lead a good life with someone who loved her, really loved her. Someone fair with the heart of summer, making her forget the grey days and show her what warmth would feel like.
But all the summer boys are gone.
Now she sits here in the Red Keep, a prisoner once again, and has even lost the summer in herself. Maybe she just wasn’t meant for summer.
“Little bird,” a rasp interrupts her thoughts and she looks behind her, surprised to see the Hound in her room.
She has to smile. He is big and hard, rough and unwavering, dark and cold. He is like a winter storm, like a blizzard destroying everything that gets in his way, to protect the ones he swore to protect. Loyal and respectable, even if he doesn’t want to seem like this.
But Sansa knows to interpret his eyes. His grey, stormy eyes …
“I’m coming,” Sansa finally says and stands up, smoothes out her dress, walks over to him, still smiling.
At least there is one thing I can be sure of now, the northern princess thinks, taking his hand, feeling the rough but familiar skin, if only for a second. When the boys of summer are gone, the men of winter remain.
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Prompt: 072 - Winter
Pairing: Sansa/Sandor
Words: 576
Rating: G
Sansa sits at her window and looks outside. She observes how the beautiful flowers sway in the soft warm wind and their scent is carried over to her, surrounding the girl.
She remembers a time when she had to smile at that … right at the beginning when her life seemed to be perfect. She had finally escaped the dullness of Winterfell, the cold, the snow … finally she had been allowed to see the sun, to wear the finest clothing (even the same cloth as the queen!) and had her very own prince. He was so lordly, handsome and gallant, and she was so in love. In love with love, with the dream of her perfect marriage, with the picture of herself being queen one day. People were supposed to love her for being beautiful and courteous, a fair and just queen at the side of a good king.
Joffrey was supposed to be the light illuminating her life, the first ray of sunshine in the winter storm that had been her daily routine. With blonde hair like spun gold and green eyes, he was her summer-prince.
But oh, had she been wrong … it hadn’t been the heat of summer but the heat of hell he brought over her, not love but hate, hate for the first time in her life. Sansa had never despised anyone - until she had to face the true nature of her precious prince.
And then, when Margaery Tyrell had come along and told her about Highgarden, about Willas - intelligent, caring, gentle Willas - she abandoned the dream of being queen and just wanted to lead a life with a man who cherished her, who she could talk to … and who did not let her get beaten.
She imagined a life with Margaery as her sister, with sunny peaceful days, meeting new people, having friends, having … finally a life worth living. She wanted to justify the trust Margaery put in her, wanted to be a good wife to Willas …
But again these dreams turned out to be just as stupid as the other ones she dreamed.
Sansa sighs and mourns the girl she once was.
All she ever wanted was to lead a good life with someone who loved her, really loved her. Someone fair with the heart of summer, making her forget the grey days and show her what warmth would feel like.
But all the summer boys are gone.
Now she sits here in the Red Keep, a prisoner once again, and has even lost the summer in herself. Maybe she just wasn’t meant for summer.
“Little bird,” a rasp interrupts her thoughts and she looks behind her, surprised to see the Hound in her room.
She has to smile. He is big and hard, rough and unwavering, dark and cold. He is like a winter storm, like a blizzard destroying everything that gets in his way, to protect the ones he swore to protect. Loyal and respectable, even if he doesn’t want to seem like this.
But Sansa knows to interpret his eyes. His grey, stormy eyes …
“I’m coming,” Sansa finally says and stands up, smoothes out her dress, walks over to him, still smiling.
At least there is one thing I can be sure of now, the northern princess thinks, taking his hand, feeling the rough but familiar skin, if only for a second. When the boys of summer are gone, the men of winter remain.