Sansa had favored her mother’s gods over her father’s. She loved the statues, the magical play of the rainbows over altars inlaid. Yet she could not deny that the godswood had a certain power too. Especially by night.

art by CourtneyTrowbridge

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"Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me."

art by Tatyafinwe

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That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady.

art by esmedalma

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Sansa in the godswood, by Jonathan Burton, for The Folio Society’s illustrated collector’s edition of A Clash of Kings

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"Perhaps prayer will bring some mercy" Sansa cheated herself as usual.
in Godswood with her guard.

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GOT day 16. My concept painting of a Godswood tree, during the Pilot.

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If he must be alone, he would make solitude his armor. Castle Black had no godswood, only a small sept and a drunken septon, but Jon could not find it in him to pray to any gods, old or new. If they were real, he thought, they were as cruel and implacable as winter.

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Strolling in the Godswood🍁🍁🍁
commissioned by Kelsey💕

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"bran closed his eyes and slipped free of his skin. into the weirwood.

he was back home again.

lord eddard sat in the godswood, the roots of the heart tree twisting around him. the greatsword ice lay across lord eddard's lap.

'winterfell,' bran whispered."

-bran iii, adwd

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Catelyn had never liked this godswood.

She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright & airy, where birds sang & the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.

The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood.

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Dawn,she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden was meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin & stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me.

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that was such a sweet dream, sansa thought drowsily. she had been back in winterfell, running through the godswood with her lady. her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. if only dreaming could make it so...

c: https://t.co/HeGEW17v3K

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… somehow he was back at Winterfell again, in the godswood looking down upon his father. Lord Eddard seemed much younger this time. His hair was brown, with no hint of grey in it, his head bowed. “… let them grow up close as brothers, with only love between them,” he prayed.

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"That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so..."

art: https://t.co/8M6WgAkBNd

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Catelyn had never like this godswood... The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it... The gods who lived here had no names.

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Bran and the night king in the godswood:

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The Chitauri invading again isn't going to stop me from seeing White Walker Hodor destroy the Godswood.

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Harrenhal was built to host an army. The stables capable of housing 1,000 horses, a Godswood 20 acres large, and kitchens as large as Winterfell’s Great Hall. Everything within Harrenhal; walls, steps, doors, and all else was built to monstrous proportions

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