okay but { arc: their promised winter } wherein sansa stark nurtures vengeance in her veins, learns from the very best (and worst) and feeds the blooming serpent that lies underneath the innocent flower she grows into.

wherein she calls forth armies by virtue of her name, the ceaseless anger of the realm only bolstering her rule. wherein robb– whose death has destroyed the cornerstone of westeros culture becomes the platform in which she decides, ‘why can’t a woman rule?’  if i wont have the kingdom, i’ll take the bloody north.

they tell you winter is coming but they never tell you of the red, fiery red, of her hair as she rides through the realm.