#winterfellglory

Ascar felt slightly sick. It was one thing to have a person know of his gift but it was another to talk about it openly; even amongst his family it was very rarely spoken of. The times when magic and the Gods had been seen as wondrous things were past. Now most regarded it with suspicion or outward disdain. What is his King thought the same? What if he’d been cast out of Winterfell or even worse, imprisoned!? What if he demanded to know why Ascar hadn’t seen the fire coming? 

As close as their two houses were he worried that in the end he’d only be causing problems by coming here, even if his father suggested it. He’d tried to eat but all felt felt like bark in his mouth and went down about the same. Managing only a few bites before hiding in the library for the remainder of the morning. He’d hoped (understandably) that perhaps King Edrik was too busy to see him but it was before the sun had reached its peak that a boy about his age found him to say he’d been summoned by the King.

Holding his hands in fists to keep them from shaking he smiled and thanked the boy before leaving and with a heavy heart found his way to his monarch. He knocked and remained hesitatingly in the doorway for a few more moments before entering and regarding the older man nervously. 

“My King.” he said softly, “I take it you’d like the explanation you’re owed about my being here.”

            then , she settled at the table opposite the foot of the bed & began to write. she would remain this way until edrik woke.

      ❛❛ i gave you my heart , did i not ? ❜❜ the inquiry comes lazily , as fingers trail the expanse of his chest. it is not a teasing question , nor does it require a REAL answer.  she loves him  - - she has made that perfectly clear. she loves him with no intention of leaving him. not  anymore. he keeps her just as she keeps him. they belong to each other.  lips touch his bare shoulder , head rests against his chest. it’s a moment of bliss before the world discovers them and threatens to take it all. 

        viktor didn’t have a sweet tooth by any means, but he would indulge ever so often. a meal with the new king in the north and his future brother in law was certainly one of those times, especially when the king ordered for the servants to bring them each a piece of cake. it would be rude to refuse. viktor wished for them to remain on good terms and not quarrel needlessly over something so silly as cake. so viktor picked up his fork and took a bite of the cake.

          ❝  it’s very good, your grace. ❞          it was; not too sweet that it soured viktor’s tastes but not flavorless either.          ❝  your chefs are clearly skilled. you’re lucky they are willing to live so far north. ❞          if it wasn’t for the hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of his lips it would have been impossible to tell that the lord of highgarden was joking. his tone remained consistent and the smile was brief at best, but it was a genuine attempt at the very least.