#snowdrenched

He watched silently as she took ahold of the shackle, Ned unsure of what she was going to do. It seemed like she was going to pry it apart with her bare hands. She was not Robert, not a Strongman. There was no way that Genevieve could do such a thing. It was then that he remembered she could control ice. It was brilliant, truly, her idea of what to do, how to break the shackle off his leg as it only caused him to be slightly more cold than usual.

Ned flexed his ankle once he was free, his skin raw and rubbed, scabbed and bloodied from the constant tightness and rubbing. For hunters who potentially wanted to sell him, they truly had little idea of how to keep the alpha of the werewolves intact. They hadn't done a very good job but he was grateful that Genevieve was here. Who knew, out of everyone that he possible thought would have come, Genevieve had not been one of them.

He nodded, standing, testing his leg that had been chained for the week. When he knew he was good, he nodded again, hand gently placed on Genevieve's shoulder in a way to say thank you. There would be more of that once they were out of here. He desperately wanted to leave, find his pack and ensure his family that everything was going to be alright, that he was safe and okay. Hurt, bruised, and bloodied, but it wasn't anything he couldn't bounce back from.

"Let's go, before they come back." His voice was a murmur, his senses heightened so every sound seemed louder, ever scent stronger. He could hear Genevieve's heart pounding in her chest, sense the uneasiness that was floating off her.

It had taken a lot of time, a lot of resources but when they finally had been found, Edmure was eager to bring them to Riverrun. He paid, well his family paid, for the transportation, anything else they might need. It had taken a bit to convince the boys and their families but he knew that in the end, they would agree to come. He knew from the way that Genevieve had talked about her boys. He had set everything into motion before the moon had changed and he was hoping they would arrive afterwards, he could only hope. When he had caught word that their trains were delayed due to the weather, Edmure was glad as it bought them time.

"Don't move." Edmure told Genevieve, placing his hands on her shoulders. "And keep your eyes closed. Don't open them until I say so." He walked backwards a few paces before he turned around, opening the door. He whispered to them, nodding for her boys and their family to come into the room. Positioning them in the room and keeping his finger to his lips, Edmure stepped off the side, eager to see everyone’s reaction.

     The sun barely peeked over the horizon, the light from it dim coming through the curtains. It was morning--hardly--and the child couldn’t wait any longer. She didn’t try to quiet her steps, or tiptoe. She ran across the floor through Genie’s room and climbed into the bed where the woman slept.

     Seated next to her on her knees, she began to jump and jostle, shaking Genie with urgency. It was the day she’d been telling her about for so long. The day of magic and gifts and warmth and happiness.

“My home is your home as long as you need it to be,” Mara explained, offering Genie a soft, reassuring smile. “And I mean that. It’s not an imposition. If you need anything, just ask. I want you to be as comfortable here as can be.” 

She paused, hands going to her hips as she looked around the spacious but homey kitchen. “I suppose we’ll need to go shopping, but we can do that once you settle in. We’ll get some food, pick up a few things you need--whatever we must.”

Her laughter was silent, a giggle that sent her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t smile any bigger than she did, so she had to express her happiness in another way.

She did so with a big hug, wrapping her tiny arms around Genie’s neck. Nodding against her neck, she agreed. Yes, they could definitely be happy together. That was all she wanted and she found it here with her.

my muse had been kidnapped and tortured for the past week send “I’m here- I’m here, now” for your muse to save them | accepting

It had happened in a moment, a small moment where he wasn’t paying attention. He had been alone, traveling alone without anyone else. It always happened in those small moments, the ones where people weren’t paying attention. He had always told himself that wasn’t going to happen to him, he was always going to be vigilant. Ned never thought he’d have to be so on his own land. Yet, he had always warned his children, warned Catelyn when she first was turned. Sometimes words were never enough.

How they managed to sneak up on him, he wasn’t sure. The hunters were quick, much quicker than he could have given them credit. Clearly they knew what weakened him, they knew how to handle him. They knew who he was, they were not simply going for the first werewolf they could find. Ned had found himself hidden away, in a location that he didn’t even know where it was. That week had been exhausted. Half the time in his human form, half the time in his wolf form, shifting between the two. It exhausted him as they pressed for other information, pressed to know about other wolves. Any other secrets they could give.

They had tried to get more information on his family, on his children, his wife. He refused to speak, refused to say anything at all. He was always quiet, even more so with these people here now. And yet, they had made a mistake very similar to what he had – they left. Clearly they didn’t think that he could do anything, as he lay helpless in the cage, chained by his ankle. Blood dried to his chest, his wounds no longer bleeding nor red and angry. They were scabbed, healing, and he was slowly drifting in and out of conciseness when he heard the footsteps and caught the familiar scent.

     It started with a trip to the park.

     Mim, quiet as always, had watched the other children at play--wanting to join in herself, but being too cautious and uncertain. There was one dark-haired girl that drew her attention though, and she watched her closely, with an almost careful scrutiny, studying her.

     And then it was time to go home and she went, staying close to Genie’s side, even her hands were still. The usually inquisitive, energetic child seemed distracted by something. 

     Once home, she sat down at the table, where her crayons and papers were still scattered. Her brow furrowed, her mouth set in determination as she started to draw. It was a scene from the park--all the children playing, and the dark-haired girl taking center. She was pretty, Mim decided. That was why she’d liked her.

     Her concentration was so focused, so invested in capturing the girl’s likeness that she wasn’t aware of her own blonde curls straightening and darkening. She didn’t notice that her face had changed, that her eyes had taken on a deeper blue-ish hue.

     She had captured the girl’s likeness--it just wasn’t on paper.