tagged by @inkandarsenic to share some of a wip, so here's a little something I'm working on for reyne week. tagging @silentstep, @istaricelebelasse, @ladycatofwinterfell, and any one else who wants to share something.
She braced herself against the statue of the Stranger, her bloodied hands slipping down the folds of the stone robes and leaving red streaks behind as her knees buckled beneath her. She sobbed, heaving gasps for air between her tears.
“Give him back,” she demanded, her voice hoarse. “Give him back.”
Eventually her tears dried, her sobs trailed off, and she looked up. She wasn’t in the sept anymore; instead she was in a dark, silent forest. The air was heavy with power. She stood, still clutching the crown. Her knees were weak and her head swam from her tears.
There was a rough stone table before her, bloodied and scratched. Figures appeared in the corners of her eyes, shadows moving silently among the trees.
She approached the table, and the shadows she had seen took forms. Two stood by the table: a woman wearing a flat wooden mask without eyes, only two curves carved in that wept red. Her hair was made up of red leaves, fluttering slightly as she moved. Jeyne had seen weirwoods only a few times, but there was no mistaking them. A man with dark hair wearing furs and a crown of swords stood next to her, an enormous black wolf by his side. It could only be a direwolf, full-grown and wearing a thin ribbon around his neck.
The man reminded her of Robb, but she couldn’t quite place how. Maybe something in his brow, maybe something in his jaw. He, too, was enormous; twice the size of an ordinary man and broad-shouldered as a tree.
“Jeyne,” he said, his voice, even soft, like thunder.
“My lord,” she said, curtseying. It seemed a safe title.
He roared with laughter. “She calls me my lord!” Jeyne felt her face burning. “No, no, call me Grandfather! After all, you are my grandson’s wife.”
“Are you Lord Rickard, then?”
“I am Bran, first of my name! And this is Grim.” He patted the wolf. Jeyne had been scared of Grey Wind, but she thought she might not be anymore. Grim was enormous, his teeth like swords when he yawned. This was a full-grown direwolf of the ancient age; Jeyne had no words for his size.
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