#wintersking

shewolfheart

“M’lord?” Myriam asked, stopping short when she saw that the front house was not unoccupied as she had first thought it was. The young Stark lord was sat by the bar, and she quickly set down the basket of bed linens she had been carrying, to go and serve him - despite thinking it was rather early for him to come looking for drink. “Can I get you something, m’lord?” she asked. It was only then that she saw the look on his face. “Are you alright?” 

[text; Stark Boy]: You know what just delete my number buddy.

          it had taken a great deal of precaution to escape the clutches of king’s landing, but cosimo had emerged unscathed, the medici funds intact and ready to be invested into... well, something cosimo believed in. and that something he believed in happened to be anything other than the young joffrey, and located in the north.  it’d taken numerous ravens to convince the ‘king in the north’ to accept his offer, but now as he rode into the camp, he was sure he’d made the right choice.           though --- the northerners didn’t seem all that fond of seeing a rich, southern banker stroll in, yet he keeps his head held high even as he dismounts his horse and is guided to the stark’s tent. there, he peeks his head into the tent before fully stepping inside, clearing his throat to catch the young wolf’s attention. “ lord stark --- cosimo medici, at your service. ”

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Home of the Stark family, her captors. Wanda had been seized at the riverside in the Northwood while attempting to fill her canteen. After her capture, she was led to the gates with her wrists tied, forced to trudge behind the horses. Being ostracized and branded as a witch, Wanda had lived a nomadic life, always on the move, never in one place for long. It seemed that was coming to an end. She could only morbidly entertain herself with the many methods they could use to torture and/or kill her. Waterboarding, maybe the rack, anything for a kick to hear her scream and squeal.  The death part was less of an enigma, usually witches met a blazing fiery end.  Under order, the soldiers had escorted her to the dungeon where she sat huddled in the corner, growing weary of waiting while her own fate was being debated in the hands of others.