𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍.

❛ 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒂 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍 . . . a literate, descriptive portrayal of the queen in the north; the silent fighter & the stalwart survivor. orbits of #orionis. . . . 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒆. ❜

@vedyminknight — Of course, the stalwart protection of her white wolf plays its part in that - she offers him an upwards flicker of her tightly pressed lips. “My mind was far north,” she murmurs quietly, as though admitting a grave weakness, “I can’t shake off this heavy feeling.”

@vedyminknight In the midst of the silence, fear would not be a misplaced emotion. Others, she knows, have trembled ‘neath the hallowed halls of Winterfell; high, towering ceilings atop bleak walls which seem to whisper secrets in the darkness . . . Sansa has never felt more at home. —

In the midst of their shifting, he’d found a place by @shewolfstark’s side, thankful for a moment’s warmth and mercy; their silence familiar in a way that ought to bring him comfort, but the faraway gaze in her eyes tells him a worrisome tale — instinctively, he reaches. »

@targaryreign The gates are manned, her fortress impenetrable on foot, the walls of Winterfell closed, locked. As always, her chin is tilted upwards, all the better to see the skies. Come back to her. Come home.

@targaryreign Should Daenerys pause to listen, perhaps in the still of night, she might just hear the mournful sound of her wolf, baying at the moon. Longing for her return.

Winter is coming. Winterfell’s daughter welcomes the frightful weather, but a part of her ( unbidden and unsolicited ) longs for the heat. The burn. She aches for @targaryreign.

Sansa Stark:

@OFLIONlSMS — accompanied by a patented eye roll. “Don’t flatter yourself, Lannister.” Blink and you’ll miss it, but a smile flashes across her features as she speaks.

@OFLIONlSMS — return by that wicked woman with whom he shared a womb. She was reminded that the only way to keep their memories alive is by allowing herself to remember. It hurts, burns like frostbite, but it’s worthwhile. His words cause a brief scoff to slip from her parted lips, —

@OFLIONlSMS — learn she can, in fact, talk of him without immediately bursting into tears. The wound has not healed, but the scar doesn’t prickle quite so harshly anymore. “Yes, yes, whatever you want to believe. . . . It’s not terrible, having you around.”

@OFLIONlSMS That sounds like his own problem. Nothing to do with her. Ha! His heart? By the Gods, he truly does think a lot of himself, doesn’t he? Well, at least he regrets mentioning the Stark patriarch. Sure enough, regret and remorse won’t return her father to her, but it helps to —

@lushrapscallion has been absent from her presence for far too long. How does he propose to rectify this?

@OFLIONlSMS — throat at the thought of his gruff voice, his warm embrace, those eyes. Northern eyes. “I take that as the highest of compliments,” she insists, chin raised as though he’s just honoured her beyond imagination. “Run along and find your hand, you’re no good to me without it.”

@OFLIONlSMS Does he not remember that a threat towards the Queen is considered treason? Might she have his head, as well as his hand? Keep going, and he’s certain to find out. The mention of her father does, however, give her pause. It always will; her breath will always catch in her —

@OFLIONlSMS — company. See if you can talk her round without a kick to the face.”

@OFLIONlSMS That can be arranged. With the click of her fingers, a dagger can be placed into her hand. Where would he like the wound? “Lion got your tongue?” Oh, this is fun. She could happily spend her day winding him up. “Try the paddock. There’s a mare who . . . isn’t fond of male —