Chapter Text
Sansa lights the incense and takes a deep breath as she clings to the altar she made on the top shelf of her small bookcase.
It was flourished with various crystals, jars of herbs, her tarot cards, candles, and a beautiful tiny statue of a heart tree. Very aesthetically pleasing.
Her hips sway to the beat of Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac as she checks her list of ingredients for the Jar Spell, that she found on Pinterest, that is supposed to bring her the peace she’s yet to find since her divorce.
Honestly she hadn’t had peace in that relationship either, knowing for years he was unfaithful, but turning a blind eye, and still trying for a baby. She left him after not ONE, but THREE of his mistresses asked for paternity tests from him, proving he was a father of three babies, and her womb was still barren. It hurt watching her dreams of motherhood float away, she was green with envy, and angry.
She tried turning to the New Gods, but found no solace there, but when she’d found the magick of nature, and the Old Gods her Stark Ancestors looked to, she’d found herself.
With the guidance of google, Pinterest, and various Facebook groups shed dived into witchcraft.
Tonight was a full moon and she intended to set her intentions and do this Jar Spell that looked so pretty on her witchy board.
She fumbled around for the ingredients, Lavender, Rosemary, Amaranth, Heather, Horehound, Rose, Yellow Dock, Rose Quartz, Obsidian, and Tourmaline, A piece of paper to write her intentions, a candle to seal the jar with, and a sprinkle of dirt you get at the crossroads.
She started by writing her intentions on a cute piece of Robin egg blue paper she got from the craft store.
“I Sansa Stark intend on feeling safe in my home, and happy. I intend on feeling worthy of being loved, and cared for, and I will start by loving myself. I will not dwell on the fact I’m so utterly alone, no one to love me, no child to care for, siblings too busy, parents dead, I’m utterly alone and it hurts.”
She starts crying, and crumples up the paper, cursing the fact she has had too much wine, and tries again.
“I Sansa Stark, don’t want to be alone.”
“Whatever.” she says, throwing it in the jar, atop her rocks and herbs and dirt. She says “I am worthy of love, and safety, and protection, and peace”
As she seals her jar with the dripping hot wax of her cute wolf candle that burns into a wolf skeleton.
She takes the jar to the backyard and buries it in the hole she dug earlier today, goes inside and falls asleep.
—-
She wakes up to the smell of coffee brewing. She smiles inhaling the scent, sits up, slips her feet into her fuzzy pink slippers, and grabs her coffee mug she got from a targeted Facebook ad, that is shaped like a cauldron that says “witches brew.” Soooo cute!
She stirs in her cream, and lavender syrup she made fresh last Tuesday, and snuggles up on her chair, spending her morning scrolling through tiktok.
She hears a strange noise outside, so she peeks out her blinds, and looks at her porch. She doesn’t see anything strange, just the signs of fall, leaves falling from the trees that surround her little cottage, colors slowly changing. She pours herself a coffee, and heads outside, so she can sit on the porch and admire the beauty of the season change.
As soon as she steps outside she see’s it.
It’s a huge dark marble statue next to her door. She touches it in awe, and confusion. Stepping around it, following the hard marble with her hands.
It’s real. It’s not a cheap plastic Halloween decoration. She knocks on it, feeling that it’s solid, and not hollow. She steps off her porch to examine the hulking figure.
It’s a gargoyle, angelic wings, hunched down, monster face, one side looked to be badly burnt, it was somehow supposed to be menacing, but instead so very cuuuuuute.
“Awwww” she exclaims, looking the gargoyle over. “You’re precious! What should I call you?”
She takes a seat next to him on the porch, thinking of names to call her new friend, she’d have to figure out how he got here, and alert whoever the owner was that he was somehow delivered here, but for now, she decided to call him pickles.