#saltxwolf

╣❦╠ 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.

this  question  hits  her  like  a  ton  of  bricks,  like  all  the  air  had  been  sucked  out  of  her  lungs.  it  took  sansa  aback,  not  because  she  was  surprised  theon  asked  -  no,  but  because  she  thought  she  had  done  everything  possible  to  make  him  know  he  was  loved.  angers  flickers  onto  her  face,  but  it’s  one  of  those  moments  where  she  has  to  remind  herself  that  sometimes  her  feelings  need  to  be  checked.   after  everything  they’ve  gone  through,  sometimes  reassurance  is  needed  more  than  with  others.  this  reminder  makes  her  feel  guilty,  makes  her  feel  selfish  for  putting  her  feelings  above  his  own.  

blue  eyes  glisten,  tears  from  her  brief  loss  of  control  still evident  on  her  face.  there’s  a  sad  smile  to  her  face,  lips  stretching  into   something  of  a  tell.   ❝  a  foolish  question,  if  i’m  being  perfectly  honest.  ❞   she’s  teasing  him,  though  there  are  bits  of  truth  to  her  response.  it  was  a  foolish  question,  though  after  everything,  he’s  entitled  to  them.  ❝  i  will  never  not  want  you,  theon.  ❞  

sansa’s  unsure  if  there’s  anything  she’ll  ever  be  able  to  do  to  prove  her  heart  belongs  to  him   always.  she  couldn’t  blame  him,  and  at  times  she  too  found  herself  questioning  her  worthiness  of  love.  yet,  she  knew  at  the  end  of  the  day  they  had  found  one  another,  saved  one  another,  and  grew  stronger  together  because  destiny  had  saw  them  fit.  in  a  twisted  sense,  she  found  that  fairytale  she  so  desperately  sought  after  as  a  young  naive  girl.  it  wasn’t  conventional,  it  wasn’t  always  rational,  and  perhaps  it  wasn’t  a  perfect  story  -  but  it  was  theirs  and  she  loved  it  with  all  her  damaged  heart  was  capable  of.  

her  hands  come  to  caress  his  face  -  war  torn,  scarred,  and  beaten.  the  theon  of  her  childhood  was  long  gone,  a  new  man  before  her.  she  too  was  anew,  no  longer  the  naive  girl  full  of  hopeless  fantasies.  broken,  battered,  bruised.  stronger  because  of  it.  these  new  versions  of  each  other  have  clung  at  one  another,  sworn  to  protect  and  cherish  whatever  semblance  of  sansa  and  theon  were  left.  she  wouldn’t  let  him  go,  not  now,  not  ever.   a   passionate  kiss  is  placed  upon  his  lips,  one  that  she  prays  communicates  everything  she  can’t  find  the  words  to  say.  sansa  is  brilliant  with  words,  they  could  come  out  like  the  sweetest  poetry  or  the  harshest  decrees  from  a  queen,  but  with  theon  she  often  struggled  to  find  words  beautiful  enough  to  tell  her  story.  her  emotions  and  actions  spoke  for  her,  and  she  hoped  now,  more  than  ever,  that’s  what  they  did. 

she  pulls  away  from  the  kiss,  hesitating  slightly  as  her  eyes  search  for  his.  with  a  last  breath,  she  mutters.  ❝  i  will  always  love  you.  ❞

Beck couldn’t mask the pained expression that came over her face when he fled from her. For a moment she reached out her hand in a hurried gesture of comfort, as if she might grab him and draw him into her so that he could feel safe, but she let her hand fall just as quickly as she’d lifted it. She tried to remember what it was like. Neither her mother nor her brother had ever inflicted such horrific injury and neglect on her, but she could remember what it felt like to cower, to close her eyes and make herself small so that perhaps they would take pity on her and leave... those were not times when she’d have liked to be grabbed.

On the other hand if someone didn’t earn his trust enough to start tending those bandages regularly his wounds would fester and the infection would eat him from the inside out.

“Oh---ancestors.” She grunted laboriously as she managed, in spite of her protruding stomach, to lower herself to the floor and sit. With any luck he’d feel less threatened and come closer. She managed to criss-cross her legs and reached into the satchel on her belt. After a few minutes of rummaging she pulled out two rolls of fresh, clean bandages, and, as well as she could, leaned forward to set them between them where he could see them plainly. He needed a poultice on before a bandage, but she doubted he’d let her do that.

“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. 

the  confession  somewhat  eases  her .  truth  be  told ,  it  had  been  a  while  for  sansa  too .  the  dating  pool  was  seemingly  growing  smaller  &&  smaller .  always  the  romantic ,  though  her  past  few  failed  relationships  seemed  to  put  a  coat  of  cynicism  atop  her  perspective  of  love .  she  was  beginning  to  grow  doubtful  she’d  ever  find  the  romance  she  always  dreamed  up   ;   would  she  settle  ?   would  she  stay  alone  ? of  course  the  fact  that  her  brother  had  found  love  &&  they  were  all  gathered  to  celebrate  his  engagement  didn’t  help .  naturally ,  she  was  ecstatic ,  she  couldn’t  be  happier  for  robb , but  there  was  a  part  of  her  that  couldn’t  help  but  wonder  if  she  was  damaged  goods ,  damned  to  never  find  someone  else  for  her .   theon’s  comment  reminds  her  that  she  may  not  be  alone  in  this  difficult  navigation  of  finding  love . 

a  hand  pulls  on  ginger  curls ,  another  holding  a  champagne  flute .  it  is  then  that  she  decides  to  look  up  at  theon  with  a  smile ,  one  that  seems  to  show  she’s  somewhat  reassured  by  his  comment .  ❝  you’re  telling  me ,  ❞  sansa  begins ,  shaking  her  head  in  amusement .   ❝  i  can’t  even  recall  the  last  date  i  was  on ,  though  i  guess  we  can  both  assume  it  didn’t  go  great .  ❞  there’s  a  laugh  with  her  words ,  a  laugh  that  bordered  bitter .  

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  ).