(X)
asoiaf challenge : favourite bastard(s) [3/4]
→ alayne stone
It will mean my head if I am found, she reminded herself as she descended a flight of icy stone steps. I must be Alayne all the time, inside and out.
You are Alayne, and you must be Alayne all the time.
Alayne Stone at the Eyrie, by P J Lynch
Well you may be king for the moment
But I am a queen understand
Alayne Stone
- Sansa
Catelyn and her daughters.
Something Sansa-inspired that I decided to make. The pictures I drew in Sai, and I did the assembling and text in photoshop. Sansa is one of my favorite ASOIAF characters and I love her character development throughout the series. The composition of the cracks on the rocks was very difficult D:
what did you whisper in my ear?
what did you tell me that i wanted to hear?
what was the answer you wanted me to find out?
Artist Liga-Marta’s artwork, and the way in which my ASoIaF-fixated brain interprets them.
In order (or click for captions): Jaime Lannister and his white cloak, Alayne Stone, Cersei Lannister in her chambers, Daenerys Targaryen in Pentos before her wedding.
![theongrey-joy:
30 day asoiaf challenge
day three → a scene you want to see on the show
Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the centre of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.
When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me.
[…]
The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcmclwzyyc1ryl0u2o1_500.png)
day three → a scene you want to see on the show
Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the centre of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.
When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me.
[…]
The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered.
