nobodysuspectsthebutterfly:The Moon Door, by Jonathan Burton, for The Folio Society’s illustra

nobodysuspectsthebutterfly:The Moon Door, by Jonathan Burton, for The Folio Society’s illustrated collector’s edition of A Storm of Swords Lysa grabbed her by the wrist. “Come with me now. There is something I want to show you.” “You’re hurting me.” Sansa squirmed. “Please, Aunt Lysa, I haven’t done anything. I swear it.” Her aunt ignored her protests. “Marillion!” she shouted. “I need you, Marillion! I need you!” The singer had remained discreetly in the rear of the hall, but at Lady Arryn’s shout he came at once. “My lady?” “Play us a song. Play ‘The False and the Fair.’” Marillion’s fingers brushed the strings. “The lord he came a-riding upon a rainy day, hey-nonny, hey-nonny, hey-nonny-hey…” Lady Lysa pulled at Sansa’s arm. It was either walk or be dragged, so she chose to walk, halfway down the hall and between a pair of pillars, to a white weirwood door set in the marble wall. The door was firmly closed, with three heavy bronze bars to hold it in place, but Sansa could hear the wind outside worrying at its edges. When she saw the crescent moon carved in the wood, she planted her feet. “The Moon Door.” She tried to yank free. “Why are you showing me the Moon Door?” “You squeak like a mouse now, but you were bold enough in the garden, weren’t you? You were bold enough in the snow.” “The lady sat a-sewing upon a rainy day,” Marillion sang. “Hey-nonny, hey-nonny, hey-nonny-hey.” “Open the door,” Lysa commanded. “Open it, I say. You will do it, or I’ll send for my guards.” She shoved Sansa forward. “Your mother was brave, at least. Lift off the bars.” If I do as she says, she will let me go. Sansa grabbed one of the bronze bars, yanked it loose, and tossed it down. The second bar clattered to the marble, then the third. She had barely touched the latch when the heavy wooden door flew inward and slammed back against the wall with a bang. Snow had piled up around the frame, and it all came blowing in at them, borne on a blast of cold air that left Sansa shivering. She tried to step backward, but her aunt was behind her. Lysa seized her by the wrist and put her other hand between her shoulder blades, propelling her forcefully toward the open door. Beyond was white sky, falling snow, and nothing else. “Look down,” said Lady Lysa. “Look down.” She tried to wrench free, but her aunt’s fingers were digging into her arm like claws. Lysa gave her another shove, and Sansa shrieked. Her left foot broke through a crust of snow and knocked it loose. There was nothing in front of her but empty air, and a waycastle six hundred feet below clinging to the side of the mountain. –A Storm of Swords, Sansa VII -- source link
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