#suvicn

It was the wolf hour and Sansa was still not asleep. Joffrey had chosen to reject the offer made by the Tyrell's, in favor of keeping her around as his bride. He cared not about the fact that it brought him nothing to keep her. She was his. Margaery had left shortly after that along with the Tyrell forces. From what she had heard, they were heading north now. Perhaps to try and get the northern crown onto the head of the rose. Sansa didn't care. She had her own problems to think of. Her wedding to Joffrey would be a month after the battle of blackwater. They had moved quick, making clothes and sending out invitations. It was to be a grande farce...

They had forced her into the gold and red dress. Forced her into the gray cloak, forced her to the sept and practically dragged her down the aisle. Sansa hated every second of it. She lucked out because they wouldn't let the bedding take place, not while her brother was still fighting him. But that didn't mean Joffrey didn't get to torture her for her brother's crimes. Wife of not.

game of thrones starters // ACCEPTING

                                                                        ( @suvicn )

after a long night of thinking things through, mira decided to talk to asher once and for all. she was determined, though she feared he would misinterpret her words. albeit, in fact, he’d have reasons to. they weren't nice words indeed, but they were true and certainly important. he would have to listen to her and try to understand. but mira knew asher far too well, and the odds of him doing so were few, almost nil. however, she needed to take that risk.

finding him had taken her more time than she'd expected, until she saw him training with ser royland and his men.

Ironrath was never a place she had the pleasure of visiting; she cannot tell what it smelled like or what the temperature had been -- likely cold -- or even distinct details about the place. What she remembers is the people; the faces of House Forrester were far more distinct than their home. She remembers the Lord and Lady who reminded her so much of her father and Lady Catelyn, and the children they brought alongside them. She recalls the laughs of the younger ones, and the fond smiles of the older ones, once a family so content...so happy.

So much like the Starks, the Forresters seem to be. Betrayed, killed, and swept aside.

She spoke very little to Asher when they were younger, but she remembered his face vividly. After everything he has endured, losing so much of his family, and becoming the head of his house...he looks far older than he is. She wonders if she is the same, a legitimized bastard proclaimed a queen, murdered and brought back to life, and looking far too cold for her age. 

“Lord Forrester, I thank you for coming on such short notice.” She pauses, letting her eyes wander and linger on the Stark banners lining the walls, then back to him. “I’m very sorry for your losses, my lord. My sister and I understand how you feel far too well.”

               he hadn’t seen his brother IN YEARS—           but he knew that asher was alive. something tells him, he would know if whom had once been HIS protector as a child, would have SUCCUMBED to the blade of another.        for no, asher would not die in a bed, but rather on his feet with hatchet in hand.               this ethan knows almost AS WELL AS he knows the chords of his lute.          and OLD GODS be good, he is more than glad to see asher ALIVE.       the near ‘death’ of ethan forrester was surprisingly hushed; but he knows malcom would have told asher.     it may not have been the REASON asher had been sent for, but he was home.  

                                                                     ❛ ... ❜