Scheming Bitch

When Sansa Stark saw the King's party riding into the wide courtyard of Winterfell, she couldn't but hold back her smile, even if she would have wanted.

Everything unfolds quite nicely she thought while bowing to the royal family. She was the oldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and her destiny was foretold to her since she was a little girl. One day she would be married to one of her fathers bannerman, life and work in his castle and bear him an heir. That was what the gods an men had planned for her. But she had decided this wasn't what was about to happen. She probably wasn't a god and most definitely no man. She was Sansa.

Ever since she had heard the story of her aunt who had been **** and played with like a game piece, despite being a strong and independend woman, she had understood that being strong wasn't quite enough to be free. She needed power. When she first had this conclusion she had told her older brother and his best friend. They had smiled. They had looked at each other. They had laughed at her. No. They hadn't laughed at her. They had laughed at her thoughts. They had laughed at her ambitions. They had mocked all women in the world. At this moment when she had turned her blushing face from Robb and Theon, and had turned to the door, something in her had died. When she had slept crying in her bed this night, something new was born in her. Somehow in this night her heart had hardened. She would never again tell someone about her thoughts and true feeling. She would never again be a victim of laughing brothers, protective fathers or a lusty bannerman. She would forge her own destiny. Despite The gods. Despite men. Despite the world.