Reborn In Fire And Blood

Chapter 3

Sansa

The red wolf slipped into the wooden chair, the two dire wolves of her proud house adorned the top. She stared into the grey room, the empty fireplace barren, the tables pushed away and empty. She was alone.
      "M'lady." A northern guard walked in, pushing the heavy door aside. Sansa sat up in the throne, turning to face the man.
      "Your sister is just about to set off for the west. They're about to lift the anchor."
      "Thank you, Ill be out to meet her soon." She dismissed him with a nod as he closed the oak door behind him.
The cold and empty hall of Winterfell towered over her. The ghosts of the past still lingered around her, but today was not the day to listen. She ignored their call and straightened her crown.
Standing, she smoothed her grey gown. Around her, the black lined cape shielded from the northern chill. Her embroidery work of the Stark direwolf displayed fiercely on the front of the cape and crown. She was a queen of Winterfell, alone. Her footsteps echoed across the hollow halls, the grey atmosphere remained the same, even with the sun shining through stained windows.
Sansa made way to the ship, careful to avoid the deeper snow laid path. The crest of the ship shaped as a direwolf head, bearing its teeth. Arya would leave soon, for the unknown west.
There her sister stood, her one sided cape cloaked her right shoulder, flowing in the breeze as she observed the map infront of her. Like she spoke, the maps all end after Westeros.
      "I hope you'll visit, to tell of all the things you've saw." Sansa spoke up, turning her little sisters attention. Her short brown hair bobbed behind her, as she walked to Sansa.
      "I'll send many a raven and tell you what I've seen."
Sansa nodded, putting on a smile. Her brother is south in Kings Landing, her brother the wall, and her only sister to a unknown place. The only Stark in Winterfell.
      "I'm glad you're excited." She finally tapped in, her head tipped down in thought.
      "You don't sound very."
Sansa looked up at Arya, the smile still stuck to her face.
      "I hope the seas treat you well, You were never one for the ladylike."
Arya gave a small smile to her, but soon it sank into thought.
      "Gendry?"
Arya nodded. But Sansa could not relief any of her feelings. She only knew her sister could not be tied down to a castle. She couldn't be a queen. She couldn't wear frill and lace while popping out sons. She was more her father was than her mother. Not even the septa could wash it out of her.
      "It's not a lady's only job to sit and birth children, to be a house woman." Sansa replied. She pulled the fur cloak closer to her body, feeling the gust of wind and the promise of oncoming snow.
      "I guess this is goodbye, for now." Arya spoke solemnly, staring at the crest of her ship. Sansa came to the conclusion she didn't want to think about it.
She enveloped her in a hug, the cloak wrapping around Arya as well. The two stood against the snow and wind. As they each pulled away, the bell of the ship began to ring with life. Arya stared up at her sister. Each gave a small nod to the other in a final goodbye. With that, Arya boarded the ship.

Sansa stood at the window of her bedroom, watching the Stark ship sail westward. She closed the flaps of the window, shutting out the light of the world. She unclipped the cloak from her dress, as her servant lit the fireplace of the bedroom. She dismissed the small grey woman.
Slipping off her direwolf crown, she sat in the thick feather bed. She wanted so badly to crawl in the sheets and furs, to sleep away her emotion.
      "No. I am a Stark of Winterfell. The wolf does not rest."