If I Want To

Sansa

Sansa awoke to the sight of white flakes falling outside of her window. After preparing herself for the new morn and breaking her fast with her family, she went out to one of the walkways to get a better view.

It was a beautiful summer's snow in Winterfell. The flurries danced gently above her as she threw her hands up to the sky, her face turned up in wide eyed enchantment. The snowflakes landed on her nose and cheeks, soft as kisses, lingering for a few seconds before melting, and causing a soft giggle to escape her at the thrill of it all.

As much as Sansa yearned to visit the south, the soft snow never failed to leave her breathless. Retreating back inside, Sansa made her way to her bedchamber and hurriedly dressed, eager to properly venture out into the snow. The snow crunched under her feet as she made her way across the courtyard, headed towards the glass gardens.

Sansa scooped up some flurries that had collected in her open palm and placed it in her mouth, the cold snow melted quickly on her tongue, the taste as pure as a fresh drink of ice water.

The pale Northern sun beamed upon the snow as she walked, transforming Winterfell's Northern landscape from its usual mundane coloring of grey and brown, into an array of sparkling and glistening colors as the sun light caught on the layered pure white flakes draped over the tower roofs and tree branches, along with the blanketed expanse of land.

Sansa wished that the beauty of it could be immortalized in a pretty song, the magic of the moment captured by a singer's golden voice. She knew that the pretty picture wouldn't last long—the boiling underground springs likely to melt the snow away, aided by the warm weather that encompassed Winterfell and its surrounding areas— and wished to memorize the look of it all.

Sansa lowered herself onto the ground, lying flat on her back with her legs and arms spread out. She began moving her limbs about in an attempt to make a snow angel. She was pleased with how it turned out, and used her finger to trace a halo over the angel's head. It didn't take long before the falling snow began to fill in the indentation, slowly erasing the snow angel from view, and with one last look, Sansa headed towards the glass gardens.

The heat of the enclosed greenhouse instantly brought a red flush to her face, and the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens infused her nose. The snowy footprints that her shoes left on the floor instantly melted away, unable to withstand the high temperatures.

It was beautiful in here, Sansa sighed as she looked around. The green and yellow glass panes colored the light that shone in, and the colorful sights of different produce, plants, and trees inspired a feeling of vitality. As she drew nearer to the fruits and flowers, the air became sweeter. Sansa quickly picked a few blackberries to eat later. She giggled as she imagined the look of disgust Arya would make if she strode in here and saw all of the vegetables that were almost ready to be plucked, soon to be piled onto her plate.

A small smile was still on her face as she headed back to the Great Keep. Swallowing the last of the blackberries that she had daringly cleansed in the snow, Sansa made her way past the walkway between the Armory and Guards Hall. She glanced up at the sky that was still releasing fluffy flakes and stuck her tongue out again for another taste.

A huge snowball broke apart as it made contact with her face, the falling pieces crumbling onto her tongue. As Sansa spit out the snow and brushed the remainder off of her face, she heard the unmistakable hoots of her younger brother. She walked closer until she could make out Bran's little figure perched on top of the covered bridge that connected the Armory and the Great Keep. He was holding a large ball of compacted snow, and let the snowball fly in her direction when he noticed that she had spotted him.

Sansa grinned as she lowered herself to the ground and built her own snowball to launch at him. But before it could set sail, Bran caught her with another snowball, this one larger than the last. She giggled as she held on to her snowball, preparing to throw it—until an unsuspected attack from behind knocked her soft weapon from her hand.

"Hey!" Sansa yelled, whirling around as a tiny figure dashed away and disappeared into the Great Keep, a laughter that sounded suspiciously like Arya trailing after it. A smile made its way to Sansa's face. The smile on her face turned a tad sweeter as she heard Bran's tinkering laughter filled with a little boy's joyful glee. He was still high up on top of the covered bridge, safe from her retaliation.

Another snowball ambushed her, causing Bran to hop about in victory, the snow that had collected in his auburn locks taking flight and fluttering about his head before drifting lazily to settle upon the flakes that had already collected on the roof of the covered bridge.

"Snowball fight!" Arya yelled, jumping out from the double doors of the Great Keep. She scooped up more snow as she headed her sister's way and threw the gathered handful as Sansa turned to face her.

Sansa quickly swooped down to pick up snow and Arya took off running, heading through the doors of the covered bridge, and out the other side into the main courtyard. Sansa kept chase as Arya ran past the library tower and the washing well, uncaring of the startled looks that members of the household shot them.

Arya headed in the direction of the Bell Tower and Sansa pursued her, being careful not to drop the compacted snow in her hand as they ran in and out of the different courtyards. Arya's laughter reached her ears as they ran through the stables and around the kitchen. The younger girl gave a whoop as she avoided Sansa's reach, but Sansa was determined and her legs were longer, although Arya was faster.

I'm so close . . .

And then Sansa felt herself falling, the snowball flying from her grip as the ground rushed up to meet her.

"Sansa!" Arya called, rushing over to her. "Are you alright?" Arya's grey eyes were full of concern as she stared down at her sister, worry scrunching up her brows.

"I'm fine," Sansa assured her as she pushed herself up and back onto her feet.

Arya's worry morphed into a grin. "Good!" she declared. The snowball that she released hit Sansa smack in the face. She made to run off again but Sansa gave chase.

Her fierce sister was so much smaller, Sansa realized as she quickly caught up to the skinny little girl, grabbing her legs and causing her to tumble. She might have worried but they were both breathless with laughter, Arya's face lit up with a wide grin as she attempted to wiggle out of Sansa's grip.

Jory appeared to investigate the commotion that they were causing, but he ended up laughing at their antics, while Bran sneaked up—his face red from running hard to catch up—and pelted them both with snowballs.

Sansa grinned in triumph before picking up as much snow as she could and dumping it onto Arya's hair; making sure to rub the snow until it melted and water dripped from her sister's brown locks and into her clothes.

"Hey!" Arya yelled in protest as she laughed. Jory helped the two of them up and advised all three kids to head to the kitchens for some hot drinks to warm up their cold fingers. Which they promptly did. The day turned even better when Sansa discovered that there were freshly baked lemon cakes and Gage allowed her to take several, which she shared with her siblings as they headed to the keep.

"This is my favorite day," Arya declared, and it was . . . until Rickon and Shaggy sped excitedly towards them, what followed next was an audible crash as all four kids tumbled to the to the ground along with their drinks and lemon cakes.

"Oh man," Arya groaned as Sansa sighed.

"Rickon!" Bran hollered.

The toddler's only response was piercing happy shrieks of laughter as he scrambled to his feet and dashed away, Shaggydog chasing after him.