wolveshonor

[wolveshonor]

asongoftasandfire‌:

“That’s better.” Tywin smirked and  turned to his dresser. “Strip off and get on the bed. On your back, I want to be able to see your face when you’re twisting in pleasure around my cock.” he said, giving Robb only a quick glance before digging out the lube from his sock drawer and grabbing a hand towel to clean up. He threw them both on the bed, taking a moment to pick up his slacks from the floor, wearing nothing but a undershirt now, and moved onto his knees on the bed, taking the bottle and squirting onto his fingers, carefully lubricating down the shaft of his cock and then getting some more lube for the head.

He moved into position between Robb’s legs, and brought his still slick fingers to Robb’s ass. “You know I love when you beg.”

Had they been in his world, they’d have been in a tent, lying upon a straw mat, and stripping off their armor. In this world, Robb tugged off his jeans and t-shirt--both bought by Twin--and because he had not gotten into the habit of wearing underwear (though he had been bought that too) he moved, naked, to the bed. A soft, giant mattress, made of some foam like material Robb did not yet comprehend, only, that it felt like he’d imagined a cloud must, and as he stretched out upon his back, he knew he’d have been incredibly comfortable if he wasn’t flushed pink and tense from every word Tywin spoke. 

He always made him wait. 

Robb bit his lip to keep from growling impatiently, raising his head to watch Twin carefully move around his close and prepare the lube. Finally, he was on the bed--finally kneeling between Robb’s spread legs, finally stroking his cock. And that cock was all Robb saw now, heart beating faster as he watched Twin stroke himself to hardness. “Please m’lord,” he begged, throwing his head back upon the mattress, long hair spanning out beneath him. “Please fuck me. I--” He paused, but pride be damned, he needed it. And he knew what to do, and there was no one here to watch, to hear, but the man who could make it happen. 

“I need your cock inside me,” he begged. He wiggled his hips desperately. “I can’t wait any longer.” 

[wolveshonor]

moving blogs-->itswasteland

because grad school is eating me alive, i’m combining my muses onto one multi-muse which can be found at @itswasteland. I will be moving threads over there for anyone who wants to continue writing! 

[wolveshonor]

moving blogs-->itswasteland

because grad school is eating me alive, i’m combining my muses onto one multi-muse which can be found at @itswasteland. I will be moving threads over there for anyone who wants to continue writing! 

[wolveshonor]

saltedcrow‌:

Before Theon could think of a reply Robb was on him. The kiss was a ferocious promise, Robb every inch the wild animal he protested against being. Theon was left panting, his dark eyes wild as he looked over Robb once more. One hand rested on his wrist, the other his waist to keep his balance. He swallowed.

“You know I haven’t changed my mind,” he protested. “But if you - if you have…” It was late to turn the tables on Robb. He could feel the circling of his thumb as if it was a direct line to his groin. Slow circles, a steady pressure that made his knees buckle. Inwardly cursing, he gripped the idiotic bag of gummy bears more tightly still.

Bing.

He fumbled for the keys in his pocket, ignoring the more insistent burn of need within him. He hip-checked Robb as he passed him, forced the keys in, and entered what he used to think of as his perfectly safe apartment. He glanced over his shoulder at Robb as he paused. 

“Last - last chance to change your mind, yeah? Be the angel your mom thinks you to be…”

Robb had no doubts--there was no room for second guessing. He was not sure what it made him do it, whether it was the dark, heated look in Theon’s eyes, or the breathless gasp on his lips, but to know that he had made that expression come to be, that he was responsible for Theon, who always looked so in control, becoming seemingly so out of it, was a wonderful feeling. And he did not want to stop it now. 

The elevator door opened, and Robb followed Theon out and toward the apartment door. “I am an angel,” he said, smirking, leaning into the door frame as Theon pushed it open. Granted, he was a virgin, and this was not exactly how he’d pictured that changing; he had always imagined some romantic night with someone whom he’d been dating for months. He’d always imagined it would be a woman. But now, watching Theon gulp, eyes fixated on the Adam’s apple in his throat and how much he wanted to bite the skin there, he found he didn’t care much for his expectations. This would do. This would more than do. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he said simply, stepping full inside and closing the door behind him. “But if you’d rather we sit and watch--whatever that was...” He pointed to the strange video tape and then the gummy bears. “And have those, I’ll do it.” Still, even as he said it, he was tugging off his shirt and unbuckling his jeans. 

[wolveshonor]

moving blogs-->itswasteland

because grad school is eating me alive, i’m combining my muses onto one multi-muse which can be found at @itswasteland. I will be moving threads over there for anyone who wants to continue writing! 

[wolveshonor]

xladywinterx‌:

“Your father has nothing to gain in that war. You gain nothing of worth.” Petty mortals squabbling yet again. They were all petrified of feared death but put themselves… they put their sons in in harms way for absolutely no reason. All this over a pretty girl. Men mortals and immortal would do anything for a chance to have a girl in their bed.

The gods all knew why that girl had been taken and why the boy Paris was doomed. Robb had no place in it no matter the prophecies. Let them slaughter themselves.

Fate had destroyed men before. “You have two sisters to protect, Robb. If something happens to your father, they will de disposed of,” Married to whichever of Eddard’s mortal lackeys bid the highest. “You can’t help them if you’re in Troy.” The boy would never listen to sense if she spoke the truth: that she worried for him for his own sake.

“Nothing but the lives of an entire nation,” he mumbled, standing up now and shaking the water from his fingertips. This was her world, and though she had hoped it would be his too--and it could have been if he had dedicated more of his time to becoming the god he was meant to, a god and not a sword--he was of the earth now. She did not have to like it. But he knew where he belonged. 

Robb grit his teeth. It was hard to look at her, and not because the sun was shining between them, obscuring her face and serving as a vivid reminder that Apollo had chosen Troy. If he joined this war, he would walk each day under the sun’s rays, knowing it was against him. 

“If I stay here, as you command, and I am cursed to obscurity,” he reminded her. Everything he had trained for would be for naught. He would not be remembered. He would help no one. And his closest companion--the man who meant more to him than any other--would surely be killed, a sea away. 

“But you can,” he reminded her. He did not want to leave his sisters. But they had a goddess for a mother. They were more protected than most in this world. “You can help them. It’s more complicated than you make it out to be, you know it is. I can save this country.” 

[wolveshonor]

goldcnhand‌:

Jaime’s lips parted momentarily. Robb Stark had always seemed to sure of himself. He remembered the young pup, cocky and cunning, so proud of himself once upon a time–particularly when he was sitting as a prisoner of his, tied to a post. He’d had plenty of time to watch and listen to how the young man had operated. Now he saw nothing of that in those used-to-be fierce eyes. The anger he’d seen when he heard about his father, his sister’s… and everything else. 

Times really had changed. For the both of them, it appeared. Who would have thought that Jaime Lannister, once prisoner to the Starks, would be having a conversation and an evening stroll with Robb Stark, his former captor. And he was no innocent, either. He’d pushed the other man’s little brother from a window and attacked his father. He’d started so much of this. Now, the only thing he could try and do it was end it by talking some sense into Cersei. If only she would listen. She never did to him. It took Tyrion, of all of them. How? Cersei detested their little brother, and yet… somehow he’d convinced her to fight by the Stark’s side during this Winter. 

“Your brother has a different idea…” Jaime muttered. It was Snow, after all, that had sworn fealty to Daenerys. And what did his sisters think? Sansa, who had been handed over and over to so many suitors already? And Arya… who they all thought had perished the moment she’d fled King’s Landing. How had the girl even managed to survive for so long? The Starks were a hardy bunch, for that he was sure. While the Lannisters ran off spite and bitterness, and in his case, hopeless loyalty to his family. 

“Then we agree on something, at least. After this Winter, we will be at war again. Cersei will never bow to a Targaryen, and the Starks, no matter who comes out of this, will not bow to a southern queen.” 

A soft huff of air left his lips as he laughed, shaking his head. It all seemed pointless, didn’t it. Why not let the wights just take them all out and start anew, right? Get rid of their squabbling for them. Instead, they’d fight side by side just to kill each other in the end. 

“It appears both our gods are cruel.” 

“My brother is not king.” He did not say it to be cruel, though he was sure it would appear that way. Robb had named Jon his successor, had trusted him to take the North when he was gone, despite all his mother’s warnings that the bastard born would rise up against any children Robb might one day have, fight them for the throne like the Baratheons had done in Robert’s wake. But those days were through. And Robb had no child. No wife. 

He had trusted Jon, and as a brother, he loved him fiercely, but he was not pleased with what he’d learned since his regaining his life and finally reaching the North. He was not proud to know that his brother would throw the North to the dragons so easily for a pretty girl. As did you, said a small voice in his head, the voice that always sounded like his mother. He had loved Talisa--truly--and again and again, he’d told himself he would not--could not--regret what he’d done. But his marriage to her had gotten her killed along with hundreds of others. If he had let her go, he’d have saved them all. 

He laughed bitterly. “Aye, we’ll be at war. Next time I beat you, I swear I’ll make it quick.” He turned to look at Jaimie, eyes shining in the darkness, and smirked, teasing. It was that one act, that one battle, that had won him his men’s respect. The victories after had sealed the deal. Before it all went wrong, before he’d lost it all, defeating the King Slayer, that best of swordsmen, had been quite the accomplishment. Would he be able to manage it again? Did he want to? 

He glanced over his shoulder, at the tent glittering in the distance. “We should get back.” 

[wolveshonor]

reekcd‌:

They were friends. But they were friends no longer. Reek had gathered that much from the man’s tone. Who would wish to be friends with such a pitiful creature as him, after all? 

          “Y… yes. I understand.”

It would be easier, he thought, to not speak of his master. He felt so conflicted each time he even thought of him. He feared the man, but he loved him, too. Even after being told what a monster his master supposedly was. 

He flinched at the mention of that name. Theon Greyjoy. The turncloak. The man he’d been before he knew his name. He could not remember much of that man, but he knew that he hated him. He didn’t argue, though. Not even when the other warned that he’d show Reek his master’s head upon the walls– though that thought did cause him to go pale. 

           “I… I’ll… I’ll t-try to… to learn. To            learn the r-rules. To b.. be good.” 

“I’m not going to hurt you if you forget. If that’s what you’re thinking, you may rest easy knowing you shall not be harmed again in this place.”

Was he fighting a losing battle? Robb sighed and, trusting that this version of Theon would not be reporting behind his back, that a display of weakness would not leave these walls, he sunk onto the bed that was made for his old friend, that would serve as much as a prison as it would a chamber. He felt as if he was a thousand years old, his head weighing more than a direwolf’s. How had it all gone so wrong? How had they all fallen apart?

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked finally. All he truly wanted to know was why Theon had done it, why he’d turned on him, where Robb had let him down to have deserved such betrayal. What had he done wrong? How had he failed as a friend? “Nothing? We were together every day for years. You remember nothing of it, truly?”

He wasn’t helping, and he knew it. Theon was already a bundle of nerves, and what right did Robb have to make it worse? Except that looking at him in this condition was like stepping on sword tips, and still, the anger toward him burned hot and heavy beneath his skin. Theon had left him, and now he did not deserve to be remembered either? Did he really mean that little to him?

[wolveshonor]

longmayshereignxcersei‌:

“Fear is the only way to rule.” She had learned that lesson when she was naught but a child, when the rains of Castamere was played at every feast to remind the price of crossing a lion.

Love might seem like the better option at a glance, but she had heard stories of her own grandfather. Lord Tytos had wanted to be loved, he wanted his lords to be able to laugh with him.

And what had happened in the end, his lords had ended up laughing at him and making mock of him and they had fallen so low in those years that the Freys had gained the courage to ask for his own daughter’s hand.

“Better to rule with fear now than to need it later.” She leaned in and kissed the side of Robb’s mouth. “Smash them now, and they will never rise against you again. They can never be a threat again, show mercy and there is always the possibility of a knife in the back.”

“Make an example of them now and show your lords what happened, the reward for their betrayal.”

“You’re right. If I end them now, they will never rise up again. Perhaps no one will. Fear will keep them in their place.” Or perhaps they saw the tyranny raining down upon their neighbor, and they teamed up against him, joined together for justice, as his father and King Robert and Lord Twin had done to the Mad King. 

Robb moved her closer upon his lap, one hand on her thigh, the other reaching up to brush back her golden hair. “And is that we are to raise our children?” he asked seriously. She had been raised at her father’s heel, he knew that, raised to see ruling as a cruel, bloodthirsty endeavour--and it had worked well for Lord Tywin. But he was not Lord Tywin, and Cersei was a good and kind mother. 

“If they disobey, do we strike them down? Do we pit them against each other? A publish lashing to scare the others?” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Or do we have room to forgive? To show them kindness and teach them the error of their ways?”

It was how he’d been raised--to see everyone under his command as his child, his responsibility, his family. They did not agree on much when it came to running the North, but of children, of being parents, they could at least see eye to eye. 

[wolveshonor]

clap your hands if you’re BISEXUAL and A LITTLE BIT OF A DUMBASS

[wolveshonor]

honorcalls‌:

Byrant turned as well as he could in the car seat to face Robb. “Robb, it worked out just like it was supposed to. I did go to him looking for love.  He’s not-” Byrant still hadn’t figured out what the change was, did know what Robb was aiming at, why he had opened byrants door it was the kind of thing Byrant had seen him do for girls, trying to woo them. Even the thought of Robb trying to woo him caused his heart to beat faster. That couldn’t be what this was, but- “As for my type-”

It would be a lie if Byrant told Robb that boy was his type, skinny not a hint of fat or muscle on his bones, no facial hair to speak of, hair that must have been bleached, a twink in every since of the word, he wasn’t Byrants type but if he said anything else- well Byrant had a habit of trying to fuck the thought of Robb out of his head and the best way to do that was always find boys who were the opposite of Robb. “I don’t really have one- other than, you know dick- or Jax didn’t have a dick, and that’s not- you know what I mean” Byrant waved his hand, “Men, my type is men.” Men with big shoulders and dark hair, men with scruffy beards and hands big enough to hold Byrant’s whole world in them,  men with thick hair long enough that Byrant had thought about barring his hands in it, tangling them so the other man had no choice but to stay close.

Byrant turned and wanted to wrap his arms around himself, there was a hesitance in Robb’s voice offering to introduce Byrant to some guy, guys on the football team had said much the same thing  they could introduce Byrant, likely to the only other queer man they knew but Robb, this was Robb and it wasn’t like Robb had never offered before but- Byrant went back to Robb opening his door for him, the smirk Byrant had gotten peaking at his friend while he had closed the door. it was like everything was shifting, but Byrant couldn’t tack where it was going, like sitting at the dinner table with Mr. Stark and Robb, a conversation over his head that he could not hardly follow.

“I’m not really- there’s a guy but- I don’t-” Byrant shook his head, he didn’t want to say anything, didn’t want to discourage Robb if he really was- but Jeyne, “He’s got a girlfriend but I’m not sure- thank you Robb but I don’t think I want to meet your classmate.” His sister had once said she had gotten Jon Umber to realize she liked him by telling him about her crush on him, all without saying it was him, until he realized it. Byrant wasn’t sure he’d ever have the courage to do as much with Robb, if Robb realized- Byrant didn’t want to lose his best friend. The only friend he knew wasn’t whispering behind his back, the only friend he trusted unconditionally. He didn’t want to make things weird.

He clenched his hands in his lap, didn’t even dare to push his hair that had fallen back into his face, did not want his hands to shake, something had changed and he wasn’t sure what.

The car was tense, strange, the air thick, a feeling Robb was unaccustomed to in Bryant’s company. For as long as he could remember, it had been he and Bryant against the world. Robb had never been embarrassed to tell him anything, to share anything.

Now, suddenly, everything was different. 

It was as if his heart had been tied to a yo-yo string--up and down and up and down he followed Bryant’s words--there was another boy, and then there wasn’t, and then...Robb’s first reaction was to call the boy--whoever he was--a fool. How could he have Bryant in his life and not appreciate that, not take hold of this wonderful gift he had before him? Then a little voice popped up in his head--and why did his conscience always sound like Jon?--that reminded him he was doing the same thing. But Bryant doesn’t like me, he told the voice. He’s never liked me. He’d tried that already. Hadn’t he? Looking back, he couldn’t remember a single time he’d actually told Bryant what he was thinking, any hints he’d tried to give. He had justified his entire feeling of letdown on Bryant kissing a boy the one time Robb was feeling brave enough to tell the truth. But Bryant kissed a lot of boys. 

And maybe that was the problem. 

Any more than Robb wanted to date another thousand girls--though he would if he had to--he did not want to be just another date in a long string of boys in Bryant’s life. He did not want to kiss him and, like the boy at Pride, have it not matter the next day. He did not want to spend the night and then be told it was a one-time thing. He’d been shot in the heart before. He didn’t need it broken again. 

“Maybe he’s bi,” Robb supplied, hating himself for hoping against it, hoping that the boy wasn’t available, wasn’t his perfect match, that soon Bryant would--would what? See Robb? Robb who had a girlfriend, Robb who always had a girlfriend? “Dating doesn’t mean love.” It was a very un-Robb like thing to say, Robb who picked his dates like he was on a reality TV show, planning to walk down the aisle by the end of the episode. “He might come around.”

He pulled the car into the parking lot of the planetarium and fought the urge to hurry to the passenger side and open Bryant’s door. This was not a date. 

[wolveshonor]

im tired

[wolveshonor]

  Can Divit Outfits - Episodes 14, 15 & 16

[wolveshonor]

soleirs‌:

For the first few days of him arriving in Sunspear, she had thought of him to melt away just like Snow - not that she did ever see snow but she heard stories about it - or at least hide in cooling shadows, craving for each and every little wind. But despite her expectations, he did neither and managed quite well so far. Complaints here and there were nothing unusual, did in the hottest summer days, even Dornish themselves do such. The longer he did stay here, the more she had a chance to communicate with him, listen to his stories about the north, the more curious she got how long she would manage in the North without freezing to death. 

Arianne never thought much about Winterfell and its surroundings, when people told stories about giants, walkers and walls built of ice, it was never something she could imagine nor wanted to, but it seemed as if she would soon have to. The North and the South. These two indeed seemed as if they couldn’t be any more different an

With a quick move, she shook off thoughts about the past, tried to focus on the more important matters, as her glance followed the others and pinned to its features. The act upon his face was hard to read, no matter how hard Arianne tried to interpret the dance the lines in his face did but regardless of how big her attempts grew, she barely managed to make anything out of it. Could she not tell if he did pity Myrcella in this very one moment, or try to calculate a plan to get rid her along with her mother.

Her eyes close down as amused laughter escaped her lips, followed by a slight shook of her head.   « My Lord, you must forgive my amusement but you consider me being a much better person than I actually am if you think I did not already picture the dead bodies of Tywin and his children.  »  Suddenly, as she looked up to him again, nothing of the gentleness or feigned propriety was left in the dark depths of her eyes, was there only determined rage left. 

The thought alone brone shivers down her spine, and not the good kind of it. It was clear that her body cramped, nails dug into her palm at only the mention of Tywin Lannister, as every time she heard his name, the painful memory of her aunt crawled up in her veins. Every time she was remembered of Cersei, the tombstone with her uncle’s name carved in it was back at her mind, and the latter was the final drop for her to finally start working on her own, was waiting for her father no longer an option, did she, to put it mildly, She had thought through a plan for long now — a plan she still needs to find the proper support and back up for. 

« Every further breath this man does is mocking on my name, my family, my house and Elia’s name. If I have to use another lion to chop of the others head I will do so. Myrcella is no longer a Lannister, I see her as my own flesh and blood, do I love her as if she was my daughter. I will protect her like I would protect any of my kind. Tywin nor Cersei will have any chance to ever taint Myrcella, will their heads be busy rotting on a pale. »

Robb pulled his gaze away from the little lioness and turned to Arianne instead, a small smile curling at his lips. It was not amusement; it had been a very long time since life had given him any thing to be amused over. It was the same smile he’d worn the day the Greatjon had raised his sword across the table, when his heart had seemed to beat out of his chest, but he’d grinned to keep from crying, to make the room think he was as strong and brave and sure a leader as they all wanted him to--not the young boy, out of his depths, that he’d been that night. It was the smile he wore when he had sent his terms to the Lannisters through the mouth of a spy while the Lords around him looked on with weary hope. It was the smile he’d shared with his mother when they’d decided to go back to the Twins, to make amends with the Freys.

Many of his men were dead now, and his mother was rotting in the rivers beneath the Twins. Robb did not remember much of that night, but he did remember that: fighting tooth and nail against the Blackfish’s hold, trying to get to her body, trying not to leave his wife’s. It was not a popular thing--to be a Northerner who despised death and killing, who felt no great honor in putting thousands of men to their graves; as a boy, he’d never liked the sight of blood, never waited eagerly to go along with his father for a hunt (though he’d always go, always ask to go, and he never flinched when he was taken to watch the executions).

But everything was different now. He would not rest well again until the Lannisters’ heads--and the Freys too--lined the towers of King’s Landing for all the realm to see.

So her rage--more than the food and clothes and time she and her land provided--came as comfort. A rage he could understand. A rage they both could use.

His laugh was just as unamused.

“You call her kin, but you will kill her kin. I have started a war to avenge my family--you will do the same. Why should she be any different? Children who grow up away from their families do not forget what is due to their names, no matter how dishonored those names may become.” The bitter reality of it flashed clear as the Dornish sun upon his face, his mind on Theon. They had grown together, played together, cried together, loved together; he had considered Theon a Stark, had kept him closer than anyone, brought him into every council or war meeting. And in the end, he’d chosen a father who never loved him, a father who would not even recognize him as son and heir. Blood won out in the end. Not love. 

Shifting wearily in his seat--his leg, arm, and chest still heavily bandaged--Robb continued, “It is admirable, your hope. And your love for the girl. But I do not think it will work.” Even just a few short moons ago, he would have; he would have agreed full heartedly, believing people could always be better than their parents before them, that they should not be judged for the sins of their families. He was not so sure anymore. This war had made him dark and cynical and someone he did not recognize. “But I also do not think we have another plan, and I will do anything to see Tywin fall.” 

[wolveshonor]

xladywinterx‌:

“You are your father’s heir,” Mortal heir… a word better left unsaid. “Your sisters need you.” Eddard was another story. When the boy had been small- just after his youngest sister’s birth she’d tried to protect Robb and give him immortality. Eddard had forbidden it- horrified when he walked in before she was done. Arya had barely been more than a newborn when she’d left. The boy- man now-had two brothers he’d never met because his father had driven her from the keep.

It hadn’t been a happy marriage, but he was her children’s father- her mortal children’s father.

Eddard had to have an heir and Robb was it. The girls would never take their father’s titles any more than they would have a place on Olympus. “I can’t protect them from the barbarians of your father’s court. You must protect them nevermind the mortals crying for your aid.”

If he went he would die.

She knew that all too well. Eddard knew too well. The boy would die young if he sought glory.

“I am a mortal too, you forget.”

Robb’s expression stiffened and he focused his attention instead upon the water. Somedays, he thought his father must fear it for how he tried to keep Robb away, but the truth was simpler: his father feared her. For he had no trouble in sending his eldest son to sail across the ocean and fight another man’s war. “It’s more complicated than that. You know it is,” he said without looking up, watching the way the sun obscured his and his mother’s reflection. 

They said the sun god, Apollo, fought for Troy, that he loved Prince Hector and would do anything to protect him. The prophecy said Robb would only die after Hector did. Perhaps the time would never come at all. Robb had no desire to kill Hector. Hector had done nothing to him. 

“Theon has no choice.” He knew his mother would not like to hear it--she did not like to hear anything of his closest, mortal friend, the exiled prince with blood on his hands--but in those caves, training with Chiron, even her godly powers had been shielded away. She had not seen what they had become there, how very much Robb loved him. “If the Greeks die in Troy, he will too. Father will not let any harm come to the girls.” His father would not go to war, was too old now. He could stay in the court and protect them. Robb, of course, would not come back. When he left, it would be for good. No man had ever changed the fates’ minds before. 

“I cannot let him go without me. He will die, Mother.” 

[wolveshonor]

liondaughter‌:

     it is, by all accounts, a fair question. what is she doing in the north, with what men she could muster - - - those who would follow her and risk her mother’s ire? why would she risk such a move, when it would so likely be seen as abandonment, even treachery, by her mother? 

      she looks down at the goblet of wine he has poured for her, buys a moment’s time with that consideration. (he does not, she has decided, seem the type to favor poisoning. and he has poured both goblets from the same pitcher. still - - she does not take that first sip, not yet.) “perhaps i would have been,” she agrees, looking up at him again. “for a time. and yet…i was there, when proof of what comes marching from the beyond the wall was brought before my mother. and i knew then that, if the north fell, it would not be long until the danger swept south.” and if not that danger, then the other, for well she knows there are three dragons kept not far from here….and a dragon queen who wished for her father’s kingdom. 

       “we are not children any longer,” she says quietly, with the first by way of something like a true smile. soft, fleeting, but there. a moment’s glance across time to that moment of childhood they had both shared, when her family had come to visit winterfell. so long ago, before all had turned to misstep and misfortune. “we both know there is nowhere truly safe. not anymore.” 

Robb watched her carefully--the way she contemplated the wine, the time she took to choice each word spoken aloud--and then he took a sip from his own goblet, if only to prove that it was safe to do so. He was not in the habit of drinking much or even often--not like her father had been during his time as king--but if ever there was a time to change that, it was now. He had thought the hardest part of running a kingdom would be winning the war. Now, the war was the least of their worries if in a few nights’ time, he had no kingdom to lead and an army of the dead invading the realm.

“No,” he agreed. “There is not.” Her words were sad, unfortunate, but they were wise. It had not been so many years ago--six, maybe more--since they had sat in this same room, laughing at the same table, Arya throwing food into Sansa’s hair, Tommen giggling and searching for stray cats. Myrcella had been beautiful then--a ray of sunshine amidst the snow, not so haughty as her mother, her smile so much warmer. But there were very few reasons to smile now, and yet here she was again, and the sight of it--slight and small as it might have been--was a welcome sight in these dark times.

“You may stay in the crypts,” he said after a long pause, tracing the brim of his goblet but drinking no more. “There will be guards and walls to protect you. I cannot promise they will not be breached, but if all goes well, the dead will not make it so far.” Sansa would be in the crypts as well, but Arya would have run him through with her sword if he’d tried to lock her away for the fight.

“Your mother was never going to send her armies, was she?” Never before had Robb hoped for Lannister support, but in this war, he now felt terribly alone. 

[wolveshonor]

honorcalls‌:

Byrant wasn’t sure what had happened. Something had changed between when Robb had left to take his shower and now but he wasn’t sure what he. But Robb wasn’t looking at him. Robb knew Byrant slept around, or Byrant had thought Robb did, apparently not. Byrant had figured that Robb didn’t care but this- Robb wouldn’t care, there was something more to what ever was going on. Byrant followed Robb out to his car. He had never made fun of Robb’s electric car, it made sense, like everything Robb did, from the organic foods, and resuable bags, to the soaps and detergents with out phosphates in them. Byrant would never tell Robb but his favorte was the leather jacket, sure it was practical, but Robb looked damn good in it too. So Byrant didn’t make fun  of Robb for his electric car, even if it was a little small of Byrant’s taste, He did however make fun of the color. Today though any jokes Byrant might have made died on his tongue, the mood wasn’t right and then-

Byrant’s first instinct was to give Robb a shove and tell him he could open his own doors, he would have, if he didn’t have to remind himself that he was not on a date, that this was just Robb being- Byrant wasn’t sure. But he kept his hands to himself and got in the car biting his lip and hoping, his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. When Robb walked to his side of the car Byrant couldn’t help but push his hair out of his face, more of a nervous habit than anything else. It wasn’t  a date.

It felt like forever before Robb was finally in his seat, starting the car. There was still something in the air but where Byrant thought he had felt anger or confusion from Robb now he just felt- he wasn’t sure. it was like something had changed again. So he continued keeping his hands to himself instead of fiddling with the radio like he usually did, mostly just to annoy Robb.

“The boy was a guy from my old school. I didn’t think I would run into him. I am  sorry we got separated and I ditched you, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I just-” needed a distraction from you. “He’s not my boyfriend or whatever.” Byrant couldn’t look over at Robb, he didn’t want to see what ever emotion it was Robb had had back at their place. It had almost seemed like- no, this was not a date, and Byrant had lost hope that Robb would ever love him like that, would ever see him like that long ago, besides Robb had Jeyne, Robb thought he loved Jeyne. Still- “He’s not important or anything.”

It was very difficult not to stare. Robb watched, smirking slightly, as Bryant’s cheeks began to blaze, but he forced himself to close the car door and walk away. Only once he was behind the wheel and had backed the car out of the driveway,  did Robb finally chance a glance toward his best friend. That strip of hair in his eyes always made him want to reach out and tuck it behind his ear, to see if he’d blush again when Robb’s fingers traced his jaw, but if kept up this train of thought, he was liable to crash the car. 

Clearing his throat and turning up the radio, Robb focused instead on the road ahead, trying to pretend his heart didn’t skip a beat and his spirits soar when Bryant admitted he wasn’t in love with another. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not important. It should not have been nearly as exciting as it was, and beneath the giddy relief, Robb could feel the guilt rushing in, hot and terrible: he wanted Bryant to be happy, didn’t he? What sort of friend secretly wished for the demise of another friend’s relationship? 

“I’m...sorry it didn’t work out,” he managed finally. “So is that your type then?” The boy had been very small and very blonde and had seemed to cling to Bryant’s neck like a scarf. After that day, Robb had even considered shaving, wondering if maybe he looked more of Bryant’s type--but no, it had been a stupid thought. He had not changed himself for anyone else; he should not start now. He also didn’t own a razor. “There’s a boy...in my class...I could introduce you.” The words tasted like bile, but he made himself spit them out all the same.