𝐋𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤.

angel wings with a barb—wired halo.

She is up and going to have breakfast this morrow

𝔍𝔬𝔫 𝔖𝔫𝔬𝔴༄ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡.. • Game Of Thrones Based •Writers On Verse Based •Book/Show Verses •BlackMagic Brought Him Back •Seeking SL & Banter •CrossOvers Welcomed •Friendly Writer 21 + •Be Kind Or Get Blocked

“You had me at us,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging upward, though the smile never quite reached his eyes. What she’d spoken was not just what she longed for—it was the same he’d carried in his own chest. He was sick of courtesies and hollow words, of lords pressing their daughters at him as though he were a prize to be won. Aye, he needed to be away from court. Needed her more still. “If that’s all you ask of me…” His voice dropped, steady and certain. “Then aye. Let’s go.”

A rare grin broke across his face, unguarded and boyish, his eyes widening as though he scarce believed her. He’d thought she meant to burden him with letters or the tedium of court, not this. This was different. Better. “Truly? Just us, in the wolf’s wood?” His voice carried a note of disbelief, softened by a warmth he seldom showed. “That’s all?” They were given so few moments to themselves. And when they came, fleeting as they were, they felt near….otherworldly—even with all her teasing. Perhaps that’s what made them feel magical.

Heat crept into his cheeks, though her touch set a shiver through him that no ale could explain. Still, he tried to blame it all on the drink. Must be the ale, he whispered low, as if saying it aloud might make it true. “Maybe?” he asked at last, clearing his throat, trying to wrest himself free of her hold. His gaze lingered on her, bold in a way he scarce allowed himself. “And what would the Lady Lyarra ask of me in return for holding this secret?”

He gave a low chuckle. “Aye… mayhap I’ve had more ale than I should, Lyarra.” Her touch drew him closer without thought. Those eyes of hers—hazel and unyielding—had undone stronger men than he, and still they held him fast. “If it’s my well-being you truly care for,” he said, voice dropping to a playful murmur, “then you’ll keep it to yourself.” His hand brushed her cheek, rough but tender.

“Aye… they will,” Jon said, his voice low but certain. He let the corner of his mouth tug upward — not quite a smile, but enough that she’d see it was meant for her alone. His hand settled on her shoulder, steady, grounding. “Evening, Sansa,” he murmured. “All well?”

“Aye,” he said, steady as the North wind. “Let Winter come for those who’ve wronged House Stark.”

They make quite the trio, don't they?

ᅠ "i’ve been ready for hours." ᅠ

ᅠ ᅠ kill the boy 𝐉𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖, 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 is almost upon us. ᅠ ᅠ

ᅠ “cheeky.” ᅠ

ᅠ "of course." ᅠ

ᅠ "do you talk to father like that?" his brow raised at her change in tone. "he wouldn't allow it if so. you're just like your mother. the apple doesn't fall far from the tree as they say." ᅠ