#winterreigned

[theyoungwclf]

robb, @prodigum's theon and @stags0n when @winterreigned walks in on them

[swordthrone]

he was a knight now . ser podrick payne . no more squiring , no more chasing after someone else's horses , no more shining of armors or sharpening blades . he was a knight , and perhaps someday he would have a squire of his own . but his new title meant he was no longer tied to bryenne , and she'd made sure to leave early enough to avoid an emotional goodbye . now all his decisions were his , and he knew exactly the first one he wanted to see through .

❛ my la–– my queen, sansa . ❜ he shook his head at himself , adjusting to her new title . ❛ your grace , if i could have a minute of your time ? ❜ // @winterreigned

[tymptir]

@winterreigned casually making Gendry feel all giddy and good and light headed and a little heart attack-y with that last reply 🥰

[mvrcellas]

@winterreigned said, "you're the table everyone wants at starbucks." // also modern

she was EMBARRASSED that she was crying -- after all, this was a mess that myrcella made. at least, that's what her mother told her. tristane was set to marry her and what a beautiful, wonderful, LOVELY man that he was... and she went and ruined in by running away. running HERE. and now she was getting a pep talk that she absolutely did not deserve. "i feel like a stool at dunkin donuts. a broken one. the one that they use to, like, put boxes on when they run out of counter space."

fingers moved to clumsily wipe away her tears before myrcella sucked in a slow breath, big eyes looking up at the other... pathetically, honestly. her mother told her NEVER to cry in front of others -- it seemed she was throwing every valuable lesson she ever learned right out the window. "did i make a mistake? should i go back?"

[ashedrose]

slut

your slut <3

[neithergodsnormen]

@winterreigned sent:

angst prompt for robb: sansa arrives at winterfell to be wed to ramsay , he escorts her through the cellars , she sees robb , who she had mourned and grieved , thought dead. it's the first time she's seen him in five years. sansa is all shaky breaths and wobbling legs, trying to stabilize herself. she fears an overreaction would give ramsay what he desires, but she's basically trembling and falling apart seeing robb like this.

Robb had been in the cells of various castles for nearly two years at this point, being moved in the night and kept from light. He was certainly paler than he ever had been, and Roose had someone regularly come to make sure he was shorn and the Tully red hair was not recognizable. The Young Wolf was shackled well in his prison, for he still had fight in him despite the treatment the traitor had provided. He listens closely when he hears the sound of footsteps and wonders if it is Ramsay wanting to again show him to the shell of a man that had once been Theon.

Tully blue eyes flick up as he glares at those who approach, his arms kept apart by a wooden block shackle, the chains upon his legs clanging as he shifts. Everything stops when he sees her. Sansa. It made no sense to him, she was a captive in King's Landing last he'd heard and married by force to the son of Tywin Lannister. He told himself that he had to be mistaken, though he would know his sister anywhere. He glares at the Bastard of Bolton, his jaw clenching and his voice a growl. "Another taunt, Snow?"

Robb is well aware that reminding a bastard that they are not trueborn is the quickest way to hurt them when your fists could not, which is why he refused to call Ramsay anything but Snow. It was well known that there was only one Snow who was allowed to reside peacefully in Winterfell and he was at the Wall. His eyes do not leave Sansa, worry in them as he tries to stand tall and strong in spite of years of captivity.

[packsurvivcs]

@winterreigned liked THIS for a starter

"I can feel you staring" she said quietly as she rose from her spot, she'd been sitting in front of the tree for quite some time just in an attempt to think, not really understanding the need, but deciding to indulge in it. "What is it?"

[mvndrvke]

@winterreigned sent ⛓ for an arranged marriage starter

Harwin knew it was only a matter of time before his father wrangled him into an arranged marriage, but he still can't believe it's actually happening now. Especially to a Stark. House Strong is a small but loyal family; Harwin himself had gone south with her brother Robb. They had few men to offer-- they held a small part of the North along the Neck-- but they had never refused the call.

He's a logical choice, is what his father promises him. Uniting House Stark with a loyal house that holds a stronghold on the border of their new country makes sense, but it still seems insane to Harwin. Still, he travels to Winterfell when his father summons him.

He's met Sansa before. He was at her coronation. He's never held a long conversation with her before he'd arrived, but she's not a total stranger to him. They're getting used to each other. On this particular eve, he's sitting in front of the hearth in the main hall, brows furrowed as he focuses on his needlework. He looks up when he hears the door open, and smiles when he sees it's her.

"My queen," he says, pausing his work so he can get up and bow to her. "Forgive me, the light in my room isn't the best for working. It's much easier to see in front of the hearth."

[prodigum]

@winterreigned — what is happening between us? / sansa & theon

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇. some sort of deliverance , only a little less holy. for theon , it's a river. he's going against the current. the water is clean and it isn't unpleasant , in so many words. it isn't easy , either.

and despite all the swimming lessons of his youth , he finds himself drowning. drowning in the red of her hair. drowning in her eyes. drowning in the warmth that she gives him , so wholly. he has loved her for longer than he can remember. can't quite attribute it to his youth , for he was bigger than his own self back then. but doesn't quite attribute it to circumstance , either. it's something slow and meaningful. turning of the fall leaves , or something. scheduled. bound to happen and bound to exist — and the world does move , always , at its own pace.

and once again , theon finds himself in sansa's chambers after the sun has set. long after dinner has finished and shortly after the time where one would return to their own chambers. late enough for suspicion and yet not late enough to consider the evening at its end. and mostly they would talk — about everything and about nothing all at once. memories of their childhood. everything they each thought they would be. and each making a point to avoid a certain span of time in their own histories. they are , ever , on the same page. quill and ink included.

and each night they drift , ever so slightly , toward one another. and tonight he sits on the foot of her bed. and something about his intentions are so clear. and so careful. and he can only hope he has read her correctly in all the previous days. all the passing looks and intimate nights. and of course , there's always fear. would she accept him? and where would they go from there? and would he be enough and would he be something infinitesimal or something lasting? could he ever be her future? unlikely. and even so , he persists.

theon moves halfway up her bed. places a hand over hers. breathes in steady strides , hoping that his own chest might fill with the correct disposition to navigate his future with any shred of success. ❝ i cannot speak for you , ❞ a pause. dropping formalities feels wrong and yet he has learned to speak it , regardless. he leans forward , face close to hers. it's comfortable. it's slow — he knows she deserves more now. deserves more than the shell of himself can give and yet he would be a fool not to chase. ❝ but i would have you here , if you would take me. now , and every night for as long as i should live. ❞

[drakonquill]

@winterreigned asked: ❝  are you hurt?  did they hurt you?  ❞ // for Tyrion!

𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 – too long. she was different now, different from the tentative young woman she was becoming, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. he’d only heard stories of the horrors she’d transpired, the destruction and suffering she’d endured. it was safe to say that when he finally saw her again, she was the exact kind of fierce he imagined she might be. though there was still that warmth, the softness he’d come to adore from her. how she looked at him, how he might look at her. sansa stark was his friend, one of his first, really – and something he upheld steadfast, even if her disappearance had spelled the makings of chaos for him, it had given light to other truths. things that he’d carry with him until the end of his days.

though, when she finds him in the midst of wiping smears of mud off of his face, a cut under his chin from a dagger and a threat. none here thought kindly of lannisters, he knew, but he never suspected they would be so bold as to threaten the dragon queen’s hand so blatantly. the question gives him pause, enough so that he has to turn completely and look up at the woman before him. tired eyes catch and hold hers, and then, as if like clockwork, his expression softens, a soft sigh rising and falling from his lips. tyrion reaches up to catch her hand in his – careful of if the woman decides to pull away, before giving slender fingers a tender squeeze. his other hand guides itself atop hers, resting there as he pulls his lips into a tentative smile.

❝ it’s nothing that I can’t handle, my dear. ❞ the dwarf says, bobbing his head in a small nod. ❝ when you’ve lived as long as I have, with the weight of shame around your very own birth and much more, you learn how to ignore what people say. ❞ only a half truth really, tyrion – as much as he boasted of it – had never really grown a thick skin. he developed evasions, tactics to avoid the sting, to keep standards of him as low as possible so that he might never be a source of disappointment. ❝ and you, my lady? it’s been quite some time since we’ve last spoke… ❞ what could he say, really? tyrion couldn’t rightfully ask her about the things that had transpired since their last meeting. instead, to offer her what he hopes is a gentle smile. ❝ how are you, my dear? ❞

[theyoungwclf]

anyone else love when i'm out of context?

[tymptir]

@winterreigned says “Well, the gods favor the bold” // for gendry :)

" OH , I SEE . SO THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN DOIN' WRONG . " he nods to himself , a chuckle , light as a feather , drowned out by the sharp sizzle of a blade dipped in ice water . a cloud of smoke billows up , obstructing them both for a moment - if one had a little more imagination than Gendry , one might think themselves within the clouds ; shielded from the outside world even if only for a few fleeting seconds . a brief reprieve from what they both know lies ahead . the forges burn day and night now , sleep an elusive concept to the young blacksmith , but he wouldn't have it any other way . the thick walls of Winterfell , somehow , have become home . and she is here . . . sitting on the same overturned barrel whenever she comes to visit , talking to him . keeping him company . from the first stumbled and awkward conversation , words now flow far easier between them and every now and then , he manages to elicit a smile from her . those days , Gendry has come to believe , make up for the war ahead of them .

bright blue eyes find her for a moment , a hint of a boyish smirk in the corner of his lips . then he remembers something . . . something that immediately has his heart flutter in his chest , the tip of his tongue peeking out for a moment in a flit of sudden nerves . he could . he should , really . he's made it for her after all , forged from whatever pieces of scrap metal were left - in any moment of the day when he needed a respite from creating things that kill .

" I uhm - well , speakin' of bold . " which he isn't , and Sansa by now knows him well enough to be aware of it . " hold on . " has anyone ever fainted of nerves ? probably . still , he disappears for a moment to the back of the forges , only to return a minute later , perhaps . he'd hidden it away just well enough , so nobody else might find and take it . pretty things he made had a habit of disappearing ( he still thinks fondly of that bull helmet ) and this one is more precious than all the rest . " I thought - well , they don't really grow around 'ere , but I s'ppose you should have one , so . . . I made one for you . " and he holds out an iron - forged rose ; stem , thorns , leaves , and intricate petals encasing one another perfectly .

[mvrcellas]

@winterreigned said, "sometimes giving up is the strong thing"

"and SOMETIMES --" she was pushing a margarita into her dear friend's hands, urging her to take a sip as if liquid courage was an absolute TRUTH and not a folly. " -- giving up is just GIVING UP. you can't!" she gave a sigh, reaching for her own drink before curling up close to the redhead on the couch and pouting.

"he likes you. LIKES YOU likes you. c'mon, sans -- you're not going to give up just because of some fight, right? it's theon. he's a pain in the ass. he's ALWAYS going to be a pain in the ass. but i have good news! the best news!" dramatically (maybe it was the two margaritas she had before this moment), she stood up on the couch, hands reaching for the heavens and she was STILL gripping her drink. "he is YOUR pain in the ass! what do the kids say? he matches your FREAK!"

[florallcrd]

there's so much i wish i was able to tell you.  ❜

@winterreigned

Lady Stark's wit and ability to mask herself had surprised him. Of course Willas has believed every word Margaery had wrote in her letters about the tragic girl she had met in King's Landing, but meeting her firsthand and getting to know her was another situation entirely. She wasn't unlike a sponge, soaking anything she heard and filing it away behind a steel mask she had formed around herself. He could almost tell she took everything he said and warped the words into armor for herself and the fact alone was saddening, though he couldn't blame her for the defenses she built.

Over the course of the year he had made great strides to allow herself to feel more comfortable in Highgarden, away from his grandmother's admitted meddling, he took it upon himself to attempt to make her feel at home. More often than not he thought he failed, and yet he was never too far off from offering an arm as he walked beside her, cane balancing them both on a merry stroll.

And now within these gardens with their high walls she was finally almost opening up to him and as he hung onto every word, all he could do was nod, keeping a respectful distance from her, accepting the metaphorical olive branch as it was. " I would like nothing more for you to open up to me, Sansa, but I understand if you cannot. "

Shifting his weight against his cane he makes a show of locking eye contact with her, he didn't need there to be any risk of her seeing his words as anything but from the heart. " I've no idea how many times your trust has been broken while in King's Landing, and even though we've known one another for all this time I am still a stranger overall, a man from a different house with a family who have their own goals. I will never push you to say anything you don't wish, but I need you to know I'm an excellent listener, should you ever find that you can trust me, do not hesitate. I'll listen to whatever it is you need to say. No one will hear a word, not even Margaery or my grandmother. It'll just be us. "

[scndor]

@winterreigned : random angst 【 Sansa’s advisors arrange a marriage and announce it in great hall for all to hear. She hadn’t told him yet. 】

𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓, how his life would be if morning could sing through him. if it could birth from his remains a newer sense of self. untouched. untied. perhaps then he might be enough.

untouched — his brother never laid hands on him. never shoved his face halfway to hell only to have to walk home alone , a child. his brother never laid his hands on his sister ; he could remember her face. joffrey never shoved his will through him like an arm in a puppet ; he did not kill so many.

untied — violence would not chase his heel everywhere he went. his rage , given no ignition in this morning , would not spark. and he might have , on some occasion , peace. his words would go gently out of his own mouth ; they would not suffer the weight of oversaturation.

sandor would go to sleep every night , but this morning would never come. today might not be the first day that he wished for the morning , but the words are steady in his mind. you cannot change who you are. and he has found out how to life with himself. and he has been learning how to live beside her. thought that , while she could not be his morning , she might still be his peace. he supposes he has the rest of his life to find it elsewhere.

the noise of the great hall seems far away. as soon as they are dismissed , sandor bows quickly in her direction before turning heel. feels as though he might suffocate if he spends another minute in the hall. his feet carry him to the stables. he leans against a wooden post and breathes out through his mouth. he's selfish and he knows this. and he allowed himself to hope and he thinks he might rather get stabbed in the gut than deal with the embarrassment he feels now. too raw for his liking , and spilling out of himself.

composure might return to him slowly , but for now he is soaked in his own vulnerability. and even in the ache of his chest , he will not choose to leave her. and neither would he choose to forget the few brief moments where hope had been alive. he would be grateful for those , if nothing else.

[heroesoath]

❛ it’s not stealing if it was mine to begin with. ❜ // specifically for Sophie turner jean so we can both use her bland acting in our icons ♥️

this is a trigger warning.