@thygraves.

▊ ♯ 𝒯𝙷𝚈𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝑺 : / / a private, mutually exclusive, and highly selective multi-muse blog ━━ with a singular focus on fantasy and historical settings. ⁎ ALL PORTRAYALS ARE HEAVILY PICKED APART, MIXED MEDIA AND HEADCANON BASED. ▃ sporadic activity. ( dead dove, do not eat ) . . . . . this blog will contain mature and triggering content ﹔ follow at your own discretion. minors do not interact.

　﹙ INFORMATION ⊹ PROMPTS ⊹ ﹫00sGOTH ⊹ ﹫FRANKENCREATE ﹚

rickon does not need telling twice. the little lord gives a delighted cry that echoes across the yard with her encouragement, as if he'd been anxiously awaiting permission ━━ because he had... because as wild and mischievous as the three year old was, he was relatively well behaved under the right circumstances. now he's all unsteady boots and clumsy limbs coddled in warm layers as he tears through the snow toward the great black destrier [ ... ] CREGAN HAS BARELY SWUNG ONE LEG OVER THE SADDLE, before he is dropping the last few feet to the ground. ( months on the road has wedged itself into his bones, ) yet any ache that threatened him is forgotten the instant a tiny body collides with his legs. there is a low chuckle deep in his throat before he even realizes he's laughing, as he crouches down into frozen mud to properly greet the boy at his level. A GLOVED HAND DISAPPEARS INTO SOFT DARK HAIR━ affection disguised as inspection while grey gaze sweeps over his son. ( round cheeks soft and pink from the cold, ) but happy and well cared for... that's all that matters.

❛❛ you've grown. ❜❜ it's gruffed with almost offended disbelief as he effortlessly scoops rickon into his arms, lifting the boy high enough that delighted giggles spill between them. HE PRESSES A KISS ATOP HIS HEAD. once. twice. thrice as if to make up for every mile that had separated them... ❛❛ i leave you for a handful of moons and you've decided to become a proper young lord without my leave. ❜❜ rickon protests something terribly important [ ... ] words tumbling over one another in the hurried way only children still learning possess ━━ and cregan listens as though every mangled sentence was worthy of a maester's careful recording. ( only after it concedes does he look up, ) only then does he truly see @cerynitiis.

⊱ ░ CONTINUED.

SHE HAD ALWAYS BEEN BEAUTIFUL. when they first wed, he had admired her in the detached manner one admired fresh snowfall upon the hot springs; or moonlight upon the glass gardens. ( something lovely, ) something deserving of gentleness. this was different. now she is standing exactly where he had left her four months ago, and yet she seems impossibly changed ━━ because now he knows what it is to search for that face amongst strangers and never find it... at some point between arra's passing and taking leave to march his men south, he had thought he'd made peace with the idea of having already experienced his great love [ ... ] UNTIL HE FOUND HIMSELF MISSING ELIA WHILE SLEEPING IN TENTS AND IN CASTLES NOT HIS OWN. her, more than winterfell. her, more than the godswood. her, more than the crackling hearth in his solar... rickon wriggles insistently until little boots find the ground once more ━━ and whatever careful greeting cregan had rehearsed upon the kingsroad disappears with the wind when she kisses him in between a choked sob that made his chest ache with something too akin to guilt...

❛❛ aye. ❜❜ he breathes out with thick mist as forehead briefly presses to hers [ ... ] simple, yet heavy while still in the presence of others. it meant : i know. it meant that the letters hadn't been enough; that he'd thought of her every damned night. HE PULLS BACK JUST ENOUGH, gloved fingers gently grasping her chin as he examines her the same he'd done his son. ( winter caresses her own reddened cheeks, ) as wetness gathered in lashes and snow soft as lace dusted her hair... he'd kiss it all away, proper, soon enough. ❛❛ you've tended my home and kept my boy fed, ❜❜ the most natural and important praise that could be offered ━━ yet so sparse from the lord. the corners of his lips twitched into a small smile as thumb and forefinger affectionately pinched; head dipping just slightly to murmur to her as he releases her chin. ❛❛ good wife. ❜❜

⊱ ░ how is my portrayal ₍ ? ₎

⊱ ░ how is my portrayal ₍ ? ₎

⊱ ░ how is my portrayal ₍ ? ₎

⊱ ░ how is my portrayal ₍ ? ₎

⊱ ░ how is my portrayal ₍ ? ₎

⊱ ░ how is my portrayal ₍ ? ₎

⊱ ░ 𝓔LIA ₍ ? ₎ receiver, being more experienced, guides sender through their first time + pauses every few thrusts to ensure sender is handling things okay.

someone in the castle had made an earnest attempt at romance ━━ the chambers prepared for the lord of winterfell and his new lady had been dressed well for the occasion, though the north knew little of extravagance for extravagance's sake. WARMTH HAD ALWAYS BEEN ITS GREATEST LUXURY. the hearth dominating its wall burned high from servants' earlier fussing, beneath an ancient lintel of dark stone. ( oak logs reduced to glowing embers, ) and the scent of burning pine and cedar lingered thick in the air; threaded with beeswax from half a dozen candles burning low in their iron sconces, and faint juniper that wafted from the freshly changed linens beneath them as a northern attempt at lavishness...

but beyond the heavy chamber door, winterfell breathed as it always had.

even here ━━ life carried through stone. THE DISTANT MURMUR OF THE WEDDING FEAST DRIFTED FAINTLY ALONG THE CORRIDORS. it had not entirely surrendered to the hour, nor to the departure of husband and bride. ( a swell of laughter, ) the dull rhythm of tankards striking tables [ ... ] the occasional burst of old song rising above the rest before dissolving once more into an indistinct hum. the couple were removed from the revelry, yes. yet still, cregan had very little to say once they were met with the marriage bed. SEEKING PERMISSIONS MOSTLY THROUGH HANDS THAT ACTED FAR TOO DELICATE FOR THE SIZE OF THEM━ as though the very things that acted as both judge and executioner of the north were suddenly afraid of causing harm... if he were at all nervous while helping her remove that too thin, too southern dress, it hadn't betrayed him. ( instead he watched beneath lashes. ) watched @cerynitiis with the rapt attention of a wolf; dissecting. searching for even the most silent refusal when he guided her back against furs.

she did not refuse him.

it was a fleeting thought that he hadn't necessarily meant to say aloud ━━ as it was a mere observation rather than compliment, in his mind. BUT THE THOUGHT HAD LIVED QUIETLY INSIDE HIM NOW FOR WEEKS, had come to him in passing moments when he'd catch sight of @cerynitiis crossing through the yards. in the great hall while they dined. in the glass gardens with dirt upon her fingers, ( laughing softly with the other women, ) as though she were no longer a stranger at all within these stone walls [ ... ] but someone who belonged. the silks and bright greens of highgarden had slowly given way to velvet the color of snowfall beneath dusk skies : wolves curled through delicate embroidery where climbing roses once would have grown... EVEN HER HAIR HAS CHANGED. no longer gathered high as southern ladies favored, but falling freely over her shoulders where it shielded her from the sharp wind. ( she had learned. ) she had adapted. for not only the north and for winterfell, but perhaps for him, too.

❛❛ i spoke only the truth. ❜❜ there was no embarrassment in the admission, only a gruff quiet certainty in that he meant what he said. you look too beautiful in the cold. OF COURSE, HE'D CONSIDERED HER BEAUTY UPON HER ARRIVAL. it had always been there ━━ it had been praised the moment he learned her name prior to the betrothal [ ... ] but now he's become acquainted with her most natural states. he's seen her smiling easily beneath falling snow. he's seen her red eyed and pretending she hadn't spent half the day crying. he's seen her in the mornings still groggy with sleep. ( each were just as worthy of being praised. ) grey eyes glanced to her briefly as she settled beside him; close enough that he could hear the gentle rustle of wool against stone. she was no longer shivering deep within her bones. THAT, TOO, HE NOTICED. and the gloves fit well━ good. he had wondered. he wondered a great deal of things, but asked very few of them.

⊱ ░ CONTINUED.

his gloved thumb idly traced the worn leather wrapped around the hilt of ice, the greatsword resting across his knees ━━ though he had long since forgotten the edge he had been tending. STILL, HE PRETENDED. until she spoke again; and his hands pause. his eyes flicker up from the blade : though not yet at her. ( she poses a simple suggestion between man and wife. ) and yet it is anything but simple to cregan... because he had looked upon elia on the day she arrived and seen not a wife, but a girl sent hundreds of leagues from everyone she had ever loved. he has never summoned her to his bedchambers [ ... ] as a lord in need of heirs ought; SHE DESERVED TIME, and choice. not that he had wished to keep her away, only that he had never wished to ask for more than she was ready to give ━━ and now it was she offering to cross that distance.

❛❛ you needn't ask permission. ❜❜ he finally says, low, as his gaze settles upon her. that sturdy frame buried beneath leathers and furs angling just so atop stone [ ... ] to signify giving her his full attention. ❛❛ my door has never been closed to you. i feared only that mine would be an unwelcome room. ❜❜