betterking

    —-𝖎𝖙 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖆 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚. 𝕸𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖘 𝖇𝖊 𝖘𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖒𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖞.

𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖞,
𝕾𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖆 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖔𝖋 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑,
𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖍

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

                   Sansa still remembers the raven she sent last, just before her Northern host set off towards King’s Landing. Marriage, she thinks, with something like a flutter in her heart. It’s part apprehension, part anticipation. They’ve been betrothed for scarcely six moon turns and now she is to leave behind her family, to live in the Red Keep as Princess of the Six Kingdoms.

                   No longer will she be Sansa Stark, beauty of Winterfell and Princess of the North. She will have to practice Southron customs, eat Southron food and learn their ways of court. it seems like a whole other world, one she only knows of in songs. She is worried, beyond worried, the closer to the Red Keep they get. What if she is not liked? What if her marriage is a loveless one? 

                   Everything is too fast and too slow simultaneously. Our auburn haired princess never forgot her courtesies but she can’t remember much from the moment she stepped off her wheelhouse to her presentation to the royal family of the South. Robert of house Baratheon, first of his name, greets her father like an old friend but Sansa’s azure eyes are fixed on the boy before her. No words are exchanged but she smiles at him and feels her cheek turn a warm shade of pink. It’s not long before they are showed their chambers to rest and wash.

                 Mayhaps, she thinks, as she picks a new dress and let her handmaid braid her hair, mayhaps they will be able to talk at the feast.