#chasmenos

Eden sipped on his coffee as he read the paper at the dining table. It was nearly time for breakfast, and Eden folded the paper and tossed it haphazardly onto the table before getting up to stretch. 

“ Leu!” he called up to their bedroom. “ Wake up, ah made us breakfast!” He huffed when he heard nothing. He strolled up the stairs, taking them two by two, and entered their bedroom. 

Eden rolled his eyes when he saw a lump in the covers. “ Leukos.” he huffed before hopping on the bed and promptly sat on his love. 

“ Wake up, love. The bacon is getting cold.” he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. 

“ Leukossss.” he hummed and kissed him again. 

“Why is it that I let my brother talk me in to coming to this Gods forsaken place.  there is nothing but stink and death all around and none of them understand what it’s like to love anything.” 

Looking down at his spear, Oberyn began to polish it. With a few final swipes, he handed it to his squire before motioning for the cup bearer to bring more wine.  He knew that when he arrived in King’s Landing all the memories of his sister and her two young babies would come flooding back.  He hated the Lannisters and having the imp greet them, didn’t make the situation any better. 

A calloused hand runs through raven curls, a sigh passing lips upturned into a grin. “The only certainty is incertainty,” he nods. Though he smiles, he feels deeply the toll the treatment at her king’s hand has affected her. He has heard the rumors, and feels the need to offer Lady Stark the retreat that Dorne’s borders can provide—but he knows that even a promise of safety is not enough to help her, should the rumors be true. She is no longer Joffrey’s betrothed, but that does not make her invisible, after all. Her disappearance would be noticed.

    With a wave of his hand he dismisses the young man with whom he speaks. A young soldier, part of the Lannister army, he thinks.  “You speak the truth, my lady,” he begins, turning to her with a bow, the way any man should greet a woman of her noble birth. “It is not certain that Oberyn will win, but nor is it certain that he will lose. I believe he will be victorious, because I have seen him fight. Do you know why they call him the Viper?”

It had been an unbidden comment, one that had flown from her lips on the wings of careless emotion. Sansa had no love for the mountain, in her eyes he was hardly human and while she would never match his brothers hatred of him, she felt that her disdain was strong indeed. Though, she too had her doubts that Prince Oberyn would be a match for him, tall and slight as he was. 

@chasmenos said, “ we’re a team. remember? so let’s face this one together. ”

Together they stood in the open air of the battlements, Winterfell spread before them - a dizzying fuss of activity as they prepared for the coming battle. The clang of hammer against steel, the shouting of soldiers, and stamping hoofbeats as the horses readied themselves against an army of the dead.

All the while fear buzzed in the air - she could feel it, the needles of it crawling up and under her skin till it hurt. 

For a moment, she couldn’t quite find it in herself to speak, so, as the cold winds of winter screamed against the stone, she reached and took each of their hands in one of her own. Leukos to her left, and Sandor to her right.  

How different they were. Leukos was blessed with the hands of an artist - long and thin fingers extended from precise hands. Battle-worn and sturdy, but beautiful all the same. Sandor was rough, from toe to tip he was a statue of scars and callouses so deep that most would struggle to see the kindness that lingered in his chest. His hands were so much larger than her own, the skin chaffed from the cold, but warm and strong. 

She held them both and felt some measure of courage return to her heart. 

extensive nonverbal memes