#and S can say like ''oh she's waiting for you in the godswood i though you guys might wanna do this shit privately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

agentrouka-blog · 4 years

Note

1 So, based on your latest posts, and because you take the time to explore things that have been on my mind lately: 1 Jon-Sansa reunion is foreshadowed in Jamie-Cersei meeting at the Sept over dead Tywin and Jamie's dream of his mother. 2. T-S wedding not annulled, T will press his claim. Horrible suspicion: Sansa forgot her bedding and her PoV is completely blurred. Her next PoV is when she escapes and she thinks she should tell T about her moodblood!

2 T never once denies that he bedded her. He thinks "I am not bedded" once but that's because he wants to be chosen and S doesn't want him. He did what Tywin wanted "bed her once". He'll probably press his claim to WF based on that. In Catelyn's chapter Robb says he'll take his head off for what he did. This foreshadow comes also in Ts chapters in ADWD. Please explore Ts chapters more! Nice catch the whore-wife thing!

Oh hi, anon!

OMG, you make an excellent point! I think that GRRM planned something quite like this with the 5-year-gap he ended up having to scrap. Now it makes sense! I’ll put in some quotes below that show the hints.

It might still happen now. Obviously, not involving the actual wedding night, but as a “completely blurred” experience that involves Sansa (and probably Tyrion) at a point in the future. A point where Tyrion doesn’t care about being nice anymore. But for now, let’s look at what might have been.

Here’s where the hints come in after their wedding in ASOS:

For their wedding night, they had been granted the use of an airy bedchamber high in the Tower of the Hand. Tyrion kicked the door shut behind them. “There is a flagon of good Arbor gold on the sideboard, Sansa. Will you be so kind as to pour me a cup?” “Is that wise, my lord?” “Nothing was ever wiser. I am not truly drunk, you see. But I mean to be.” Sansa filled a goblet for each of them. It will be easier if I am drunk as well. She sat on the edge of the great curtained bed and drained half her cup in three long swallows. No doubt it was very fine wine, but she was too nervous to taste it. It made her head swim.

They both drink a wine that Tyrion has provided for them. Arbor Gold, he says. A different chapter with Shae suggests something else.

“We should go back,” he said reluctantly. “It must be near dawn. Sansa will be waking.” “You should give her dreamwine,” Shae said, “like Lady Tanda does with Lollys. A cup before she goes to sleep, and we could fuck in bed beside her without her waking.” She giggled. “Maybe we should, some night. Would m’lord like that?” Her hand found his shoulder, and began to knead the muscles there. “Your neck is hard as stone. What troubles you?”

Tyrion could not see his fingers in front of his face, but he ticked his woes off on them all the same. “My wife. (…) He had come to his last finger. “The face that stares back out of the water when I wash.”(ASOS, Tyrion)

She mentions the dreamwine and he gets tense as a stone, the thought of his wife troubles him and he can’t stand the look of his own face. Hmmm… (That last one is also a Tysha hint, but I digress.)

The pivotal moment at the wedding night:

She climbed onto the featherbed, conscious of his stare. A scented beeswax candle burned on the bedside table and rose petals had been strewn between the sheets. She had started to pull up a blanket to cover herself when she heard him say, “No.”

The cold made her shiver, but she obeyed. Her eyes closed, and she waited. After a moment she heard the sound of her husband pulling off his boots, and the rustle of clothing as he undressed himself. When he hopped up on the bed and put his hand on her breast, Sansa could not help but shudder. She lay with her eyes closed, every muscle tense, dreading what might come next. Would he touch her again? Kiss her? Should she open her legs for him now? She did not know what was expected of her.

“Sansa.” The hand was gone. “Open your eyes.” She had promised to obey; she opened her eyes. He was sitting by her feet, naked. Where his legs joined, his man’s staff poked up stiff and hard from a thicket of coarse yellow hair, but it was the only thing about him that was straight. “My lady,” Tyrion said, “you are lovely, make no mistake, but … I cannot do this. My father be damned. We will wait. The turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes. Until you have come to know me better, and perhaps to trust me a little.” His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but without a nose it only made him look more grotesque and sinister. (ASOS, Sansa)

This feels rewritten, doesn’t it? The sudden break, the sudden reprieve. It could just be Tyrion’s creeping conscience making him change his mind. Or it could be Sansa’s mind rewriting the moment. As the series stands now, it can be both. But this issue between them is so heavily referenced that it will have to come up again in the future, one way or the other. It was always meant to be important.

This is at the end of the wedding night chapter:

“On my honor as a Lannister,” the Imp said, “I will not touch you until you want me to.” It took all the courage that was in her to look in those mismatched eyes and say, “And if I never want you to, my lord?” His mouth jerked as if she had slapped him. “Never?” Her neck was so tight she could scarcely nod. “Why,” he said, “that is why the gods made whores for imps like me.” He closed his short blunt fingers into a fist, and climbed down off the bed. (ASOS, Sansa)

That’s some violent imagery for a kindly refusal to rape her, isn’t it? We all know what Lannister honor is worth (a bucket of…) and we see that Tyrion does feel entitled to her, or he wouldn’t react with dismay at her suggestion that she may never want him.

The chapter is followed by an Arya chapter describing Stoney Sept, the Battle of the Bells, and this comes up quickly:

More recent battles had been fought here as well, Arya thought from the look of the place. The town gates were made of raw new wood; outside the walls a pile of charred planks remained to tell what had happened to the old ones.

(…)

“When the westermen came through they raped the Huntsman’s wife and sister, put his crops to the torch, ate half his sheep, and killed the other half for spite. Killed six dogs too, and threw the carcasses down his well. A chewed-up corpse would be plenty good enough for him, I’d say. Me as well.” (ASOS, Arya)

Tyrion used that ugly “smash your portcullis” metaphor just in the chapter before. That’s not subtle.

Let’s look at two angles at Sansa’s POV, keeping in mind the dreamwine. One of the biggest hints that something bad happened (or will happen) to Sansa is in a TWOW sample chapter, “Mercy”. Arya will be “raped” by a dwarf on stage, in a play that’s about the Purple Wedding. Mercy is likely to play Sansa’s character.

She had fastened the shutters back so the morning sun might wake her. But there was no sun outside the window of Mercy's little room, only a wall of shifting grey fog. The air had grown chilly... and a good thing, else she might have slept all day. It would be just like Mercy to sleep through her own rape. Gooseprickles covered her legs. Her coverlet had twisted around her like a snake. She unwound it, threw the blanket to the bare plank floor and padded naked to the window. Braavos was lost in fog. (TWOW, Mercy)

The Tyrion chapter with Shae and the dreamwine is followed directly by a Sansa chapter that opens thusly:

That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so …

She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

Her lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. (ASOS, Sansa)

If only dreaming could make everyone safe and warm.

So, why would this have happened? Because Jesus-Jon Snow Needs a Virgin Mother Mary Magdalene.

Like many other female characters, Sansa is surrounded by biblical Mary imagery. “Lys”, in fact, is French for “lily”, the virginal flower that represents the Virgin Mary and, as a city name in Essos, the den of high-end prostitutes. Look for “lys”, it’s everywhere. Madonna-Whore is one of the biggest themes in the books, right next to the light and dark messiah represented by Dany and Jon. Sansa is currently still heavy on the “Maiden” aspect, but that was going to change. But with a twist. Mary is, after all, a virgin mother.

A woman who doesn’t remember having been raped is still a virgin, yes?

Starting in Sansa’s “sweet dream” chapter, we get a barrage of pregnancy and bastard allusions all through Sansa’s arrival at the Fingers, along with lots of food symbolism. She has a fluttery “tummy”, she can’t eat. After her Escape, she arrives by ship nauseated and is offered fruit by Littlefinger. She rejects the pomegranate, i.e. marriage to Hades, she rejects the blood orange, i.e. wrathful revenge, but she chooses the pear, i.e. the virgin Mary AND child.

So, Virgin Mary and the bastard child. Or, as the world would call her: the whore.

More hints with Lysa:

As Sansa stepped back, Lady Lysa caught her wrist. “Now tell me,” she said sharply. “Are you with child? The truth now, I will know if you lie.” “No,” she said, startled by the question. “You are a woman flowered, are you not?” “Yes.” Sansa knew the truth of her flowering could not be long hidden in the Eyrie. “Tyrion didn’t … he never …” She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. “I am still a maid.” “Was the dwarf incapable?” “No. He was only … he was …” Kind? She could not say that, not here, not to this aunt who hated him so. “He … he had whores, my lady. He told me so.”

So Tyrion “had” a whore. And Sansa has repressed the memory, making her a maiden in her own mind. But a maiden with child.

Littlefinger would have loved it, apparently.

I always anticipated that she would beggar the realm and destroy herself, but I never expected she would do it quite so fast. It is quite vexing. I had hoped to have four or five quiet years to plant some seeds and allow some fruits to ripen, but now … it is a good thing that I thrive on chaos. (AFFC, Alayne)

Thanks for the self-insert, GRRM.

There are plenty of allusions in all the chapters to rape, protective walls (around people’s hearts) and Jon, in particular, climbing walls, pregnancy, childbirth, Trauma, etc etc etc.

Tyrion’s first chapter after their wedding opens like this:

Nothing remained beyond the King’s Gate but mud and ashes and bits of burned bone, yet already there were people living in the shadow of the city walls, and others selling fish from barrows and barrels. (ASOS, Tyrion)

To make it short: “Wall” is a code for Sansa. There are people living in the shadow of the wall after a gate was destroyed. Hmm.

His marriage was a daily agony. Sansa Stark remained a maiden, and half the castle seemed to know it. When they had saddled up this morning, he’d heard two of the stableboys sniggering behind his back. He could almost imagine that the horses were sniggering as well. He’d risked his skin to avoid the bedding ritual, hoping to preserve the privacy of his bedchamber, but that hope had been dashed quick enough. Either Sansa had been stupid enough to confide in one of her bedmaids, every one of whom was a spy for Cersei, or Varys and his little birds were to blame. (ASOS, Tyrion)

This is the only snag in the theory. Tyrion corroborates Sansa’s version of events. Or so it seems. Maybe Tyrion also misremembers. Which fits with his Tysha repression. There not being a “bloody sheet” is a mystery, though, for another day. There’s a Tyrion scene with Shae in AGOT or ACOK where he, ahem, barely manages to “storm the castle” before he finishes. It may have played like that. If it did. We don’t know.

It doesn’t matter now. But anyway.

Another hint when Catelyn arrives at the Twins for the Red Wedding, describing Lord Walder Frey:

His chair was black oak, its back carved into the semblance of two stout towers joined by an arched bridge, so massive that its embrace turned the old man into a grotesque child. There was something of the vulture about Lord Walder, and rather more of the weasel. His bald head, spotted with age, thrust out from his scrawny shoulders on a long pink neck. Loose skin dangled beneath his receding chin, his eyes were runny and clouded, and his toothless mouth moved constantly, sucking at the empty air as a babe sucks at his mother’s breast. (ASOS, Catelyn)

My suspicion on what would have eventually happened to that bastard:

What does he want me to say? “That is good to know, my lord.” He wanted something from her, but Sansa did not know what it was. He looks like a starving child, but I have no food to give him. Why won’t he leave me be? Tyrion rubbed at his scarred, scabby nose yet again, an ugly habit that drew the eye to his ugly face. “You have never asked me how Robb died, or your lady mother.” “I … would sooner not know. It would give me bad dreams.” “Then I will say no more.” “That … that’s kind of you.” “Oh, yes,” said Tyrion. “I am the very soul of kindness. And I know about bad dreams.” (ASOS, Sansa)

Children starving in the winter is something we heard from Old Nan.

“The Others,” Old Nan agreed. “Thousands and thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was cold and hard and endless beyond all memory of man. There came a night that lasted a generation, and kings shivered and died in their castles even as the swineherds in their hovels. Women smothered their children rather than see them starve, and cried, and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks.” Her voice and her needles fell silent, and she glanced up at Bran with pale, filmy eyes and asked, “So, child. This is the sort of story you like?”

I’m not sure if this would have happened, but there is plenty of precedence of decent young mothers suffering horribly: Helaena Targaryen, Elia Martell, countless unnamed civilians, even Gilly and her two rabbits that Ghost killed.

At this point, of course, it doesn’t matter because it happened differently. Since GRRM had to scrap the 5-year-gap for being unworkable, this plan had to change. Sansa has been in the Vale for way long enough to be certain that pregnancy, at least, is not a factor. This theoretical Lannister baby is a scrap in the bin.

Whether he will pick up this thread directly (by possibly even repeating it when the un-annulled marriage becomes a factor again) or transfer some of this onto Sansa’s storyline by another character, Sansa remains officially a maiden and will most probably become pregnant at some point in a way that recalls the Virgin Mary. It may straight up be Jon’s baby at this point, what with the time constraints. Not remembering is certaintly something that will come up between them. Or it may have either an uncertain or a more sinister “source”.

It’s going to be interesting!

Either way, thank you so much for the ask, it really inspired me!

#asoiaf speculation #asoiaf #sansa stark #Tyrion Lannister #rape #asks #my posts

20 notes · View notes

allons-ymrholmes · 5 years

Text

Justice - a GoT Fix It Fic

The ending we DESERVE! AO3 (X) FF.net (X)

The ash in the air has finally started to dissipate by the time Sansa and Bran arrive in King's Landing.

Sansa's nose twists in disgust as the acrid smell of destruction hits her.

She looks over to where Bran rides beside her, strapped into his modified saddle. He seems unfazed by the stench, keeping his eyes front.

Bran told her they had nothing to fear riding to answer the Dragon Queen's summons, and though the thought of returning south terrified her, Sansa has learned not to doubt her brother.

All her other advisors warned her against this trip, they were being summoned to face a trial for treason after all, but Bran insisted.

The Red Keep comes into view, and Sansa swallows back a satisfied smirk as she sees its half-collapsed form, smoke still rising in some places.

Jon is waiting to greet them, looking as solemn as ever.

He greets Sansa with a nod, and begins helping the guards unload Bran's chair.

When it's ready, Brienne pulls Bran from his horse and moves him to his wheelchair.

"Why did you ride south?" Jon asks quietly, leaning in so only Sansa can hear him.

"Bran insisted."

"She's waiting for you in the throne room… or, what's left of it," he tells them.

Sansa sighs and takes a step forward before Bran's voice stops her.

"Tell her to meet us in the Godswood," Bran says, and then he waves a guard forward to push him.

"Bran, now isn't the time to make demands of the queen," Jon argues, agitated.

"All will become clear."

The guard begins to push Bran away from the front of the keep, and Sansa glances back and forth between her brother and her cousin.

She chooses to follow Bran, hoping that his three-eyed raven gift holds the answer to overcoming their precarious situation.

I suppose though, she thinks, if I must be executed, I'd prefer to be defiant to the last.

Despite the destruction of the city, the Godswood seems almost untouched, much to Sansa's surprise.

The even bigger surprise, however, is the fully grown Weirwood tree in the center of the clearing. It wasn't their before, and she knows that enough time has not passed for one o sprout and grow so massive.

Bran positions himself beside the tree and waits, cryptically silent.

It takes fifteen minutes for Daenerys to join them.

She marches in, expression as dark as the storm she was born into. Jon is two steps behind her, followed by Grey Worm, several Unsullied, and Tyrion.

Sansa's eyes are drawn to her former husband, and her stomach twists uncomfortably as she sees the manacles on his wrists.

"Am I to understand you wish to pray before admitting your treason?" Daenerys demands.

"We are not here to answer for treason," Bran tells her. "We are here to give you the justice you deserve."

The Unsullied rally to their queen, weapons at the ready.

"You dare threaten me?"

Dany's eyes are all fire as she stares Bran down, her upper lip twitching.

"It was not a threat. I've come to help."

Dany laughs.

"How can you help me? I have accomplished what I came here for. The Seven Kingdoms are mine. The Iron Throne is mine."

"Did you accomplish it in the way you had hoped to?" Bran asks. "By burning women and children as they fled, looking for safety?"

Daenerys' expression shifts, and for a brief moment sadness fills her eyes.

"I… did as I had to," she says, quietly. "I took back my throne, with fire… and blood."

Sansa can hear the tremble in Dany's voice, and for a moment she sees a scared, vulnerable girl before her.

"Did you do it because you wanted to, or because you lost control over yourself?" Bran presses.

"You're implying that I'm going mad, like my father! I assure I am noth—"

"You misunderstand me. You didn't lose control because you are going mad, but because you were being influenced by darkness not of our world. Let me show you."

Bran reaches one hand out and places it flat against the side of the Weirwood tree. His eyes close, and lips start moving. He's mumbling beneath his breath, but Sansa can't make out his words.

A sound like lightening cracks loudly, emanating from the tree and the trunk splits open, orange light spilling from inside it.

Everyone stumbles backwards, away from the tree.

Sansa finds herself next to Tyrion and she glances down at him nervously.

He's looking up at her, and seeing her trepidation, reaches his bound hands up to hold her hand reassuringly.

Another loud crack blasts from the tree and two figures fall out of the hole in the trunk.

Bran removes his hand and opens his eyes. The orange light fades and the tree closes itself back up as if nothing happened.

The only evidence that something had happened is the two men now huddled at the base of the tree.

Sansa has no idea where they came from.

Surely they weren't both hiding in that tree?

They are wearing the strangest clothes she's ever seen. The material seeming to be of very high quality, but the style is something only a peasant would wear.

Slowly, the men find their way to their knees. They begin to stand, but the Unsullied move forward and keep them down, aiming spears at the newcomers throats.

They look extremely confused.

"What the hell, guys?" one of them asks. "Did someone forget to pay the extras?"

The one who spoke has dark hair, shaved almost to the scalp, and a dusting of hair on his face.

"Emilia, what's going on?" the second man asks.

This one has hair longer than the other, dark as well, at least on the top of his head, the sides are shaved closer and are starting to silver.

"Emilia?" he asks again, looking at Daenerys.

"My name is Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You should beware the way you address me."

The two men exchange looks, clearly confused.

"These are the men responsible for what was done to this city," Bran says. "They are from another world, and they are the ones who rewrote your fate."

"Isaac, what the hell is going on?" the man with the shaved head asks.

"Who are you?" Daenerys demands.

"Em, it's us. Daniel," he says pointing to himself, "and David."

He points at the other man.

"You are the reason I… I did what I did? To those people? To this city?" she asks, voice cracking.

Her face is so hopeful, wanting so badly to believe there is a reason for her barbaric actions other than madness.

"We've been over this. It had to be done. Dany going mad was the quickest way to end it," David says.

"What dark magic is this?" Jon asks, stepping closer to Dany protectively.

"Kit, man, come on. Joke's over."

"They are also responsible for Tyrion freeing his brother, and for Varys turning on you so suddenly," Bran says. "They are the ones who made Sansa decide to share Jon's secret, and have made Jon withdraw from you."

"It had to be done," Daniel says. "Just like we had to kill Missandei, Jorah, Rhaegal, Theon… we've been over this before. What is wrong with you guys. Show's over."

Daenerys' shock turns to fury.

"Bring them to the pit." Dany orders, turning on her heel and marching away.

The Unsullied force David and Daniel to their feet and urge them forward.

"Ouch! What the fuck," David complains as he's prodded with a spear.

Sansa releases Tyrion and goes to push Bran's chair.

"What is going on?" she asks, wheeling him to follow the procession.

"I am righting what needs to be righted. Our fates were shifted by those men, but now we can release ourselves. We are in control once more."

"Who are they?" Tyrion asks, falling into step beside them.

"In their world they go by David Benioff and D.B. Weiss. They make money off of writing our futures, and by making us suffer."

They walk in silence for a while, until Sansa can't help herself.

"I am sorry for your loss," she tells Tyrion. "I may not have liked your brother, but he did help save my life in a way. And I know how much he meant to you."

"He was a good man," Bran adds. "Much better than they wrote him."

"Thank you… both," Tyrion says, sounding choked up.

In front of them they can hear the men trying to talk to the Unsullied.

"What is happening? What is going on with this set?"

"Who put this together?"

"This is spectacular."

They enter the Dragon Pit and the Unsullied force David and Daniel to kneel in the middle.

Everyone else lines up around the edge of the pit.

"Can we please get these off?" Sansa asks, pointing to Tyrion's chains.

Dany looks over, thinking for a moment before nodding in agreement.

Grey Worm comes over and produces the key to release the bonds.

"Thank you," Tyrion says gratefully, looking up at Sansa.

Dany approaches the center of the pit, walking towards the kneeling men.

"You are horrid, terrible men," she says. "Despicable dark magic wielders who dare to interfere in our fate. And I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Mother of Dragons, sentence you both to death."

"Alright, Emilia, enough is enough!" David shouts. "We get you aren't happy with your new arc, but it was time to end it. This has gone too far, and I am not goin—"

Wind rushes around them, followed by the sound of great flapping wings.

Drogon appears, descending from above, landing right beside his mother.

David and Daniel shout and fall back in fear.

"What the FUCK?"

"Holy fucking shit! Oh my god!"

"Fuck… that's a fucking dragon?!"

Drogon leans in to nuzzle Dany.

"Any last words?" she asks the men cowering before her in pools of their own piss.

"Please, please, no," David begs.

"We… we just wanted to do Star Wars," Daniel sobs.

"And I said I will end all wars," Daenerys tells them coldly. "Dracarys!"

X X X

After the dark wizards were reduced to ash, it was like a cloud lifted. Everyone felt it to some extent. Like a cloud of despair that had plagued them was suddenly gone.

Despite the reassurance it wasn't her fault, Daenerys mourns for those she hurt. She doesn't have the burning drive to be queen any longer, and she and Jon decide to sail to Essos together, both just wanting a fresh start.

She surrenders her throne to Sansa before she departs, much to the Northern girl's surprise.

Bran returns to Winterfell.

Arya and Gendry decide to travel west together, looking for adventure in the unkown.

Brienne becomes captain of Sansa's Queensguard.

Sansa and Tyrion remarry and rule the Seven Kingdoms peacefully, and justly, providing their people with more prosperity than any have ever known.

THE END

(we deserve)

Author's Note: Fuck D&D... enough said <3

#game of throne #crack fic #sanrion #jonerys #anti d&d

73 notes · View notes

liesandarbor · 7 years

Text

Sansa’s Psychological ‘Superpower’: Convincing herself shit isn’t quite as bad as it is

Throughout the main narrative and text of ASOIAF, we see Sansa Stark utilize defense mechanisms to survive being beat in front of the court (often enough that almost every member of the kingsguard had done it a few times), being touched by creepy old dudes often, and basically just suffering as a Prisoner of War. We’re not here to chat about Sansa’s misgivings and mistakes (a young girl, age 11 in the start of AGOT), because there’s nothing to chat about with that - what I am here to chat about is Sansa’s “superpower”, and how it is basically the reason she’s alive.

(It’s not actually a superpower, she’s psychologically trying to ‘safeguard’ herself by pretending that s h i t i s n ‘ t b a d, so just keep reading )

Sansa is often seen practicing Level III Neurotic Defense mechanisms, some such as displacement, denial, dissasociation, repression, rationalization and projection throughout the books, veiling her mind and intelligence with mostly the goal to survive.

We see her with the Tyrells beginning a secret betrothal to Willas, and in the beginning she is wary - as she should be, though this is just the beginning of her realizing that she is a pawn to move as pleased-

The words came tumbling out of her. "Yes. I will. I would like that more than anything. To wed Ser Loras, to love him . . ."

"Loras?" Lady Olenna sounded annoyed. "Don't be foolish, child. Kingsguard never wed. Didn't they teach you anything in Winterfell? We were speaking of my grandson Willas. He is a bit old for you, to be sure, but a dear boy for all that. Not the least bit oafish, and heir to Highgarden besides."

Sansa felt dizzy; one instant her head was full of dreams of Loras, and the next they had all been snatched away. Willas? Willas? "I," she said stupidly. Courtesy is a lady's armor. You must not offend them, be careful what you say. "I do not know Ser Willas. I have never had the pleasure, my lady. Is he . . . is he as great a knight as his brothers?"

"Willas has a bad leg but a good heart," said Margaery. "He used to read to me when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of the stars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa."

-ASOS, Sansa I

So we get, in typical Sansa fashion, her processing this new escape, this new loop-hole. Ser Dontos is taking too long to get her out of the capital, she wants nothing more than to fix/fill the hole of emotional and physical abuse suffered at the hands of her beautiful, golden King, and the Tyrells have offered her the perfect scapegoat. --- also, don’t forget to look at that immediate reaction when she is offered Willas: I must not offend them. A reflection on the abuse suffered- she immediately fears what will happen if she offends them, and worries about watching her only escape fade away.

It only takes a meeting with Dontos in the godswood to cause her to second guess these emotions, to which we see her immediately transfer all of these feelings elsewhere.

But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

Sometimes she would whisper his name into her pillow just to hear the sound of it. "Willas, Willas, Willas." Willas was as good a name as Loras, she supposed. They even sounded the same, a little. What did it matter about his leg? Willas would be Lord of Highgarden and she would be his lady.

-ASOS, Sansa II

Willas is close enough to Loras. Margaery said he was kind. She could live with that. She convinces herself that a crippled leg won’t deter her from “having true happiness” or a ‘close enough’ to true happiness (which, funnily enough, isn’t the only crippled leg that she will have to think about, but we can come back to that as an after thought).

"You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed.

“I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must . . . he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does.

-ASOS, Sansa III

Sansa’s hopeless desperation at wanting to get out of the Lion’s Den manifests itself in several ways throughout the main narrative. We see her utilizing tools for survival, tools to protect herself from getting further hurt- we see her displace the negative emotions and events, we see her justify actions from others in her mind, anything to ease that good ol’ perfect-dream-life ideaology into place.

We see her hopes dashed in front of her eyes as Cersei tells her she is to marry Tyrion- not even an hour before the ceremony. Every single built up thought she spent normalizing Willas in her eyes, every defense and wall she built up to cause herself to accept that this was the only good card she had to play, destroyed in front of her. And Sansa’s 12-year-old mind knew something had to have been wrong. She comments on Cersei letting her have a beautiful new dress, she wonders, she pushes those thoughts away and smiles, she thinks it’s all for Willas. Her rose, her romanticized rose who will make all of the pain of King’s Landing disappear.

I don't want any Lannister, she wanted to say. I want Willas, I want Highgarden and the puppies and the barge, and sons named Eddard and Bran and Rickon. But then she remembered what Dontos had told her in the godswood. Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it's not me they want, only my claim. "You are kind, my lord," she said, defeated. "I am a ward of the throne and my duty is to marry as the king commands."

-ASOS, Sansa III

She’s young and naive, but she knows and is continually learning how the game is played. Sansa knows her head rolls when she doesn’t comply, she chooses self-preservation over fighting.

Even in her wedding bed, Sansa pushes out of her mind to find some way to rationalize being with Tyrion. She swallows her pride, as she has done for the whole fucking 3 books, but I digress, and tries to find some sort of love for him.

Look at him, Sansa told herself, look at your husband, at all of him, Septa Mordane said all men are beautiful, find his beauty, try. She stared at the stunted legs, the swollen brutish brow, the green eye and the black one, the raw stump of his nose and crooked pink scar, the coarse tangle of black and gold hair that passed for his beard. Even his manhood was ugly, thick and veined, with a bulbous purple head. This is not right, this is not fair, how have I sinned that the gods would do this to me, how?

-ASOS, Sansa III

Our next glimpse of Sansa in ASOS has us rejoining her after her whole family pretty much gets the crap murdered out of them, and we do not get to have her exact initial thoughts and reactions to the Red Wedding. We see her normalized, stuck into her marriage and life, going about her every day life as it has been now. And we begin to receive a much more honest, bitter and #WOKE Sansa after her third chapter. Sansa IV shows Sansa beginning to pull out of some of her most internal struggles and psychological defenses.

Her lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. Tyrion was a bad sleeper and often rose before the dawn. Usually she found him in the solar, hunched beside a candle, lost in some old scroll or leatherbound book. Sometimes the smell of the morning bread from the ovens took him to the kitchens, and sometimes he would climb up to the roof garden or wander all alone down Traitor's Walk.

and

But first came breakfast in the Queen's Ballroom, for the Lannisters and the Tyrell men - the Tyrell women would be breaking their fast with Margaery - and a hundred odd knights and lordlings. They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly.

and

Sansa was tempted to beg off. I could tell him that my tummy was upset, or that my moon's blood had come. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and pull the drapes. I must be brave, like Robb, she told herself, as she took her lord husband stiffly by the arm.

-ASOS, Sansa IV

and here is where Sansa breaks. You see, Sansa V is where her traumatized, 12-year old brain can no longer take anymore of her repressing, pretending, pushing thoughts and blames and abuse onto anything and anyone, like a sponge that’s been thoroughly soaked, Sansa is completely conflicted and distraught from Joffrey’s death.

Sansa felt as though she were in a dream. "Joffrey is dead," she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. "You have a good heart, my lady," she said to Sansa. "Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf."

A good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy?

She found her clothes where she had hidden them, the night before last. With no maids to help her, it took her longer than it should have to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands were strangely clumsy, though she was not as frightened as she ought to have been. "The gods are cruel to take him so young and handsome, at his own wedding feast," Lady Tanda had said to her.

The gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed. Sansa slid her arm from a sleeve, pushed down the gown, and wriggled out of it. She balled it up and shoved it into the bole of an oak, shook out the clothing she had hidden there. Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never let down her hair before.

-ASOS, Sansa V

The progression of hysterics that Sansa finds herself in the midst of during her flight from King’s Landing shows us a lot at once- she is having a whole flashbang of emotions happen at once. One, her abuser is dead. The stem of a large amount of torment she had gone through is completely gone. Destroyed. She’s free. She’s finally free from the threats of rape and being beaten by the King. but her conditioning is still kicked in. She struggles through her own thoughts to find how she really feels- something she hasn’t been allowed to do over the last year.

I don’t plan on delving in to AFFC right now to continue how Sansa’s behaviors and mechanisms have progressed/regressed/changed, however we see as we peruse Sansa V that her torment isn’t over yet. She’s fallen right back in hand with someone who isn’t as physically dangerous to her (at the moment) as Joffrey was, but someone who’s skilled in psychologically manipulating others, who can prove just as dangerous- especially with someone in such a weak and easily swayed psychological mindset who has endured so much continuous trauma- Littlefinger.

He brushed back a strand of her hair. "You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me . . . but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? In a better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter . . . Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home."

-ASOS, Sansa V

Littlefinger takes Sansa at her most sensitive and whisks her away. Most people follow the Hades/Persephone parallels ( "Thank you, my lord." Pomegranate seeds were so messy; Sansa chose a pear instead, and took a small delicate bite. It was very ripe. The juice ran down her chin.), but there is so much more to be gathered. Littlefinger took a bird with a broken wing, thinking that this would be easy and simple to manipulate and succeed with. But Littlefinger doesn’t understand that Sansa Stark has already started waking up. She’s already started to come out of her defense mechanisms. Slowly but surely she has been chipping away at dealing with the truth. She has begun to accept that she was a pawn, begun to accept that she was easily manipulated, and come to the truth that no one will want her except for her claim.

Which is the rebirth of Sansa Stark. Where will her plot lead? There’s still a long road ahead for Sansa’s arc and plot, and a lot of learning for her to do. No, she is not a master player of the game, and no, she is not a supreme manipulator (yet). It is going to take all of TWOW, further betrayal from Littlefinger, and Sansa using everything that she has observed from Littlefinger and her own wits to get her to the point of “And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow. “

But she will get there. By the age of 13, Sansa has suffered sexual, emotional, verbal, physical and pretty much any line of abuse that you could muster into thought. She has survived it. She kept herself in her own head, created fake situations and thoughts to displace the pain of the memories (unkiss comes to mind), but Sansa Stark has woken up and the wolf bitch is comin’ home.

Sansa’s love life is one that’s up for debate consistently in the ASOIAF world, and while I don’t want any of her ‘love’ life to be the focus of this essay (I wouldn’t consider any of her political marriages to be love, despite her convincing herself to love Loras), I do love the chemistry, energy and connection between Sansa and Sandor, the only one of her male ‘suitors’ (wouldn’t really call him a suitor, but we’ll leave it for now) who gave her a choice and did not attempt to manipulate her for his political/regular gain.

And, just for some good ol’ crackpot fun, Sansa did convince herself that she could love a lame man in ASOS.....

On the upper slopes they saw three boys driving sheep, and higher still they passed a lichyard where a brother bigger than Brienne was struggling to dig a grave. From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame. As he flung a spadeful of the stony soil over one shoulder, some chanced to spatter against their feet. "Be more watchful there," chided Brother Narbert. "Septon Meribald might have gotten a mouthful of dirt." The gravedigger lowered his head. When Dog went to sniff him he dropped his spade and scratched his ear.

-AFFC, Brienne

TL;DR: Sansa Stark used defense mechanisms because she is a prisoner of war who has suffered mountains of abuse, and she protected the shit out of herself by doing so. The first 4 books for Sansa Stark were about survival: the next 3 are going to be about taking back her agency and her power of choice, and bringing parts of the realm back together.

#sansa stark #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #mine #sansa meta

324 notes · View notes