#thelightninglord

She should have ridden back north when she’d had the chance.

Talia sucked in a breath between her teeth and gritted them against the pain it sent flashing through her shoulder. Blood was trickling down between the grass, slowly soaked up by the earth, yellow lions on red fields already stained with it. Only a party of four, thank the Gods.

This was bad enough.

She wanted to wash the men’s blood off in the soothingly gurgling brook she’d made camp next to for the night but couldn’t even move her arm, joint having left its socket when she had fallen just before the last man still standing had found his end at her dagger.

Talia slowly lowered herself onto one of the small rocks, left hand clutching her right upper arm to keep it from moving. Off to the side, her horse was still dancing nervously, nostrils flaring at the scent of the blood, but other than that, it was quiet.

Set her shoulder. That was the first thing she needed to do, could remember as much from years ago when Maric, one of the boys back home, had the same thing happen to him in a tussle with one of his friends. Maester Halmon had reset it, Maric’s pained shout still in her memory.

Talia drew in another flat, shaky breath, trying to remember how it had looked, that pull of the joint back into its socket. But the soft sound of a dry branch breaking further away sent her back to her feet, left hand closing around the hilt of her dagger. She tried to ignore the fresh, protesting pain the sudden motion sent through her shoulder, heart hammering like a panicked animal.

Starter for @thelightninglord 

Tormund gasped for breath as he scrambled away from the edge of the newly opened chasm in the wall, his eyes wide and wild. He hadn’t even been aware of the hand he had clutched on the other man’s furs until he managed to tear his eyes away from the carnage before them, following the line of his own arm up to the scruff of Beric’s neck. He must have grabbed the other man while they were running, and in the blind terror of what had just occurred he’d forgotten to release his hold. 

Slowly he pried frozen fingers from Beric’s furs, hiding the shaking of his hands by shifting his grip on to his sword. There were thousands of dead pouring through the hole the dragon had carved now, though they were lucky enough that none of them had thought to look up and check for survivors. That or they didn’t care, those the Night King sought lay beyond this frozen chunk of wall, in the once warmer realms of the south. 

Tormund pressed his back against the wall, sinking down as low as he dared without slipping, to ensure that any prying eyes wouldn’t spot them any time soon. The usually chatty wildling was at a loss for words for a while, his mind spinning with questions and precious few answers. What were they to do now? They couldn’t reach Winterfell without cutting their way through the horde, but they had to warn Jon of what was coming, had to let him face this at least somewhat prepared. 

“We need a way off of this wall. We need to get to Jon.” 

oh gee whiz there’s a lot of people i love here

@agooddog first of all, i’m so in love with this representation of sandor, second, sending and receiving sansan posts to/from the mun is actually a new hobby of mine. and the mun is a total sweetie

@avaricebled this is my irl sibling and kit is e x t r e m e l y helpful when i have n00b questions so i am forever in debt

@wolfgiirl a.k.a. “wolfgrill” is as big of a fan of sansa+arya kicking ass as i am, also just super cool in general, also is perfect

@thelightninglord is VERY NICE AND TALENTED and when i get a message from her my heart is warmer, and on a more specific note she uses the best verbs when she writes (when i write replies i try to remember to use verbs like she does)

@therealricksanchezpleasestandup always puts up with my SCREAMING about rick and morty and their blog is off the fucking chain

 “@thelightninglord replied to your audio post: “Name, Username, Name of...”

I'm English, American accents are adorable to us :p

No -

Boom.

Mother, no...

Mother... Grey Wind -

Boom.

Grey Wind -

Darkness, fuller than the blackest of nights, and the beat of a drum.

Boom.

He was running through the dense, dark forest, wind whistling in his ears. Darkness nipping at his heels, fingers of ice, only the drum in his ears.

Boom. Doom. Boom.

The quiet thud of a heart in a hollow chest, and he opened his eyes and there were stars in the darkness.

Robb Stark drew in his first breath and coughed, sight blurring as he curled in on himself on instinct, disoriented, hands cold but an almost searing heat sinking in his chest. He coughed and breathed and coughed again, skin feeling too tight to hold his body, threatening to burst him at the seams, and he wanted to reach up and claw at himself until he was open and the world stopped pressing in on him.

“You certainly look both far older and far worse for wear than the last time I saw you,” Mona observed, “But then I suppose time and war has it’s effect on all of us” Neither of them were as young as they were many years ago, but war had certainly had a greater toll on Beric than on herself. She still had both her eyes for one, and her skin was far less patterned with scars. “You look as if you’ve been through a war all of your own...” And as if he had lost it several times over as well. Which, according to the Red Priest travelling with them, he had.

 “You really...you really don’t remember me? At all?” 

We’ve made it. Despite being inside the walls of the great castle, Alys could still scarcely believe it. It appeared that those in the castle shared that sentiment as well. Through tired eyes and FROZEN eyelashes, Alys saw Jon Snow embrace one of the big wildlings fiercely, servants fussing over the survivors, someone shouting for the maester and felt the Lady Sansa taking her hand gently and inquiring if she was well. She managed a curt nod for the Lady of Winterfell, but the reassuring words she had been prepared to speak got caught in her throat. Perhaps they had frozen there as well — it wouldn’t SURPRISE her the least if that were the case.

All of a sudden, she found herself stumbling, only to be caught by the arm by a strong hand before she properly lost her balance. “My thanks, ser,” She managed to hiss out before righting herself, and turned her head to see who had lent a much-needed hand. Oh. The one they called The Lightning Lord. Lord Eric or Beric... The cold had slowed her WITS too, it seemed. They had never spoken as she could recall, but it had been his warning that led all the rest of them to abandon Castle Black as soon as Eastwatch fell. “I owe you twice within the same fortnight, it seems. Well met... though the circumstances are FAR FROM WELL.”

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it » accepting, but selective

@thelightninglord​

okay note: my au is book-based only, i do not acknowledge show canon, bc i don’t pay attention to the show any longer. i’m not hating on show watchers or anything, i just love the books too much c:

okay thanks to a weird dream i had && light plotting with @thefirststorm​, padmé in asoiaf is one of euron greyjoy’s ( dangerous dark book!euron not the hot topic fuck boy in the show ) many bastards && his only bastard daughter. her mother’s a ruling princess from the far eastern nation of yi ti.

she despises westeros, she thinks it’s a backwards, dirty, kingdom ( bc lbh westeros compared to the east is backwards save for dorne ) && she also finds the majority of the rulers to be repulsive. though when in westeros she’s not stupid enough to open her mouth about it.

she hates && is terrified by the idea of dragons existing, she sees them as a symbol of nothing but destruction && chaos && everything she despises.

the only thing terrifying her more than dragons is euron, since he seems to have nothing against sacrificing her bastard brothers ( she has a lot of them lol ) for his needs. she turns into a little mouse when she’s around him tbh. 

she is in fact extremely loyal to euron, mainly because he scares her shitless && she doesn’t want him to sacrifice her cut her tongue out as he has the tendency to do.

her mother was married to another man when she was conceived, her sister sola is her mother’s heiress. 

at the age of fifteen ( sadly this marrying age is common in asoiaf ) she is married off to a volantene merchant called rush clovis, her mother thinks she is doing her a favour && giving her safe life. rush was enamoured by her but very cruel && possessive. she gives birth to a stillborn daughter at the age of sixteen && when she is seventeen she is widowed after he dies from a fever. after his death she literally takes his money && goes to find the father she barely knew… big mistake…

in certain aus she does an alleras && studies in the citadel dressed as a boy && goes by a fake name && shit, mainly because she’s thirsting for knowledge && secrets. mainly secrets.

she’s not very interested in knowing her father’s family, though if she ever met asha she’d be completely in awe of her… bc who doesn’t love asha ???