╣❦╠ ƈօռզʊɛʀɨռɢ ֆȶօʀʍ ❧

Taking King’s Landing had *almost* been easier than Daenerys had anticipated, but she was still limping from the blast of Wildfire detonated by the Lannister woman when the royal army opened the gates to Dany’s armies. She had been knocked off Drogon into the bay, rescued by Theon and his crew, and under Maester care while directing the care of refugees and aligning new trade routes. Teams were building temporary docks while her armies cleared the small bits of rubble and ash from the site. A temporary court had been raised within the Dothraki tent encampment in the form of a massive tent.

A week earlier, a representative from the Wall had arrived, Commander Jon Snow, who had told her of a grave threat in the North Beyond The Wall. He spent a great deal of time at Dany’s side entreating her to send her full armies and dragons North, but Daenerys was awaiting news from a scouting group she had sent to investigate before making a decision so she was surprised when, one evening after dinner, Theon blurt out his statement again over wine.

Sansa knew it was a dangerous game, knew it was foolish to sign a deal with the sea witch, but the prince had her heart and you do foolish things when you’re in love. They might’ve never spoken, but she had saved his life and being so close to him made her desire to be close to him once more. As she broke through the water, she gasped for breath then made her way to the shore. Crawling along the beach, she slowly stood up and looked for something to wear.

COLD, it is so cold, even buried beneath the blankets the northern clansmen have offered her ( they offered it to “ned’s girl,” none the wiser ); the mittens they have cloaked her hands in, those of which grasp at theon’s arm.  jeyne’s lower lip trembles.  for now, she must still be arya, it is imperative, she knows, until she reaches the wall and jon snow.  jeyne poole is not a name that offers safety, it is the guise of arya that’s left her alive ( chilled to the bone with the tip of her nose all but frost-bitten off, and not to mention the horrors plagued before the desperate rescue ).

IT is theon that’s kept her alive, and she cannot do the same for him.

CHILLED stammering in theon’s defense had been dismissed by king stannis as the “terrified talk of a girl who knows not what she says.”  and yet this is the first truth she’s been admitted to speak, brushed aside for crimes of the past.

@saltxwolf​ “ he’s asked me to keep an eye on you.” (I sent this just now but forgot to specify muse- it’s for Jon)

Jon could hardly keep the scowl off his face. He loved his brother really he did but sometimes it was like Robb thought he was Bran’s age. Unable to defend himself, as if Jon needed someone to keep an eye on him. The woods were kind of creepy it was almost dusk, he was glad he wasn’t alone.

“I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me.” Jon said letting the scowl fall into place on his face. “Least of all you.” Jon crossed his arms over his chest looking over his shoulder from Robb. He’d only gone off to find the wolves, they came when called so long as they heard  it was one of the Starks who called. He wasn’t sure what was taking Robb so long.

“IRON FROM ICE,” she whispered to herself, strengthening out her posture at his words. No one viewed her, yet SHE MUST STAND TALL. Ramsay may have left his scars, but they had been triumphed. They had survived together. Talia still wanted to take all of his pain away, all of his suffering, even though they were free now. She wished to wrap her arms around him at this very moment and stop the trembling, but being introduced with her arms wrapped around him would be odd because she was certain she would never let go. When her days were not wrecked with her spilling the contents of her stomach over the edge of the ship the first few nights, her body spazzed during her nightmares. Yet he had been there when she screamed, he had assured her that it was only a dream even if he was on the verge of falling apart himself. She had done the same, pulling him near as he trembled in her arms, whispering forms of comfort and stroking his hair. Both had exhibited STRENGTH when both believed to be WEAK. 

He had not shared his entire story of his return home when they were together, but what happened suit that she did know, it could not have been well. She instantly felt stronger when their eyes met, rebuilding themselves and each other with each glance. She gave him a slight nod, listening intently. Talia had become a girl without a home and a family, hearing of each member being picked off one by one in some way or another. Some had survived, but she was uncertain of who by this point. Whoever did, they would not be in Ironrath. But she was still a Forrester, just like he had been a Greyjoy and a Stark despite all that had happened. THEY WOULD FIGURE THIS OUT TOGETHER. There would be a way. Her hand reached out for his, squeezing it gently before both of their gazes returned to the sight of the growing castle before them. 

It took him a few moments to swim into consciousness. For the fiery blaze of Robert Baratheon’s torches to fade into the coppery light of little Sansa’s hair and her sweet, childish voice to be heard over the thunder of the collapsing south tower during the siege. As his eyes further adjusted to the moonlit chambers, he realized he was in Winterfell, not watching the destruction of his home from the Sea Tower on Pyke.

He looked into her pale, concerned face and realized with growing embarrassment that his own face was wet with tears. The shame pooled in his stomach and he gripped the furs, balling his hands into fists. He was older than her. Nearly a man grown. Far too old to still be having nightmares about events that happened years ago.

“Why are you in my room?” he demanded, trying to sound cold and superior and not succeeding in the slightest.

nightmares  plagued  her  dreams  ;   a  time  for  escaping  reality  had  transformed  into  an  illusion  of  pure  terror.  a  girl  of  only  eight,  she  was  terrified  to  keep  her  eyes  shut  in  fear  the  creatures  of  her  dreams  would  return  &&  take  her  for  good.   OLD   NAN’S   TALES   SHOOK   HER   VERY   FOUNDATION.   white  walkers  riding  giant  spiders,  all  intent  &&  deliberation  towards  winterfell.  naturally  the  young  girl  would  spook  (  she  wasn’t  arya  who  found  such  tales  fascinating,  she  was  a  proper  lady  who  feared  the  supernatural  -  despite  how  many  times  mother  would  say  such  things  hadn't existed  ).  bare feet  creep  along  the  stone  paved  floors  of  the  castle,  small  fingers  tracing  the  wall  as  feet  worked  in  overtime  to  try  to  find  the  chamber  her  parents  resided  in.   THEY’D  PROTECT  HER.  ned  &&  catelyn  stark  would  never  let  harm  fall  over  their  precious  little  girl.  SILENCE   WAS   DEMANDED.  baby  rickon,  only  two  moons  old,  fussed  &&  fussed  -  if  she  awoken  her  youngest  brother,  all  of  winterfell  would  hear.  septa  would  have  plenty  to  say  about  it  (  &&  sansa  did  all  to  impress  her  ).  though  perhaps  her  fears  shouldn’t  be  aimed  at  herself,  perhaps  they  should’ve  been  pointed  in  a  different  direction -  one  that  surprised  her  greatly.  sounds  of  great  disturbance  rattled  the  halls,  the  source?  theon  greyjoy’s  room.  sansa  remained  still  -   THEON   GREYJOY   WAS   A   MYSTERY.   her  father’s  warden.   her  mother  always  cautioned  never  to  get  close,  though  that  didn’t  stop  robb.  the  pair  were  joint  at  the  hip,  never  too  far  from  one  another.   (  this  was  perhaps  much  to  her  bastard  half  brother’s  dismay,  sometimes  even  her  own,  as  for  robb  had  been  her  favorite  playmate  &&  theon...  she  couldn’t  get  a  good  read  on  him  ).  fear  he’d  lash  out  if  she  woke  him  consumed  her,  though  the  sounds  of  his  sobs  disturbed  her  to  the  point  where  she   SIMPLY   DIDN’T   CARE.  tiny  hands  push  the  door  frame,  tip-toes  coming  to  waking  him  up  gently  --  just  as  she  had  seen  her  mother  do  with  bran.  though  his  reaction  was  as  bitter  as  she  anticipated,  words  like  a  sharp  lash  to  her  skin.  SHE   WOULDN’T   CRY,  she  was  strong.  standing  up  straight,  with  all  the  grace  of  a  proper  lady  (   or  as  much  a  lady  as  one  can  be  at  eight  )  sansa  speaks  to  him,  her  own  tongue  capable  of  piercing  skin  -  just  ask  arya  &&  jon.   ❛  i  was  clearly  trying  to  wake  you  up  --  ❜   blue  eyes  linger  on  him,  clouded  with  anger.  she  notices  the  tears  upon  his  face,  though  ignores  to  comment  upon  them.  ❛  if  you  don’t  want  people  coming  into  your  room  &&  waking  you  up,  theon  --  sleep  quieter.  ❜  &&  a  pout  is  accompanied  by  a  huff,  almost  a  pathetic  sight.  it  was  like  a  doe  sticking  up  to  a  bear,  (  she  was  clearly  so  out  of  her  element  here,  speaking  down  to  someone  who  had  the  ability  to  crush  her  with  few  resent-filled  words  ;  but  she  was  unswayed  ).