#c:rodrik

[tallisstark]

@frozensharp​

Tallis was trying to be good, but it was difficult when she had never had to behave in her life. She took pride in her chaos, but even she knew that this wasn’t the time nor the place. All eyes were on the Starks, and she wasn’t immune to that. She wanted to show the best of her house, be a credit to their kingdom and make her brother proud, but the temptation was far too great. She had never been able to sit prettily in one place during feasts, and had spent the majority of the night drinking and dancing and being merry. Her cheeks were a vibrant shade of pink with the flush of excitement, and her hair had long ago fell out from it’s braid, hanging loose around her shoulders. 

She had stepped away from the crowd for a moment, a brief reprieve to catch her breath. That was when she clapped eyes on Rodrik Forrester. She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t seen him before. He stuck out like a sore thumb, a mountain in a forest of hills. Her stomach lurched at the sight of him, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. She hesitated for a brief moment. Would he want to see her, to speak to her? He had been married and widowed, and it was unlikely things would ever be the same. It was a brief doubt before her baser nature won out, and, as she always did, she threw caution to the wind, hitching her skirts up so that she could run to his side. 

“Rodrik,” she called, as though her hurtling towards him through the crowd wasn’t enough to catch his attention. Now she was closer, she couldn’t stop herself throwing skinny arms around his middle, a familiar embrace, too intimate to be entirely friendly. Once she realised what she had done, she stepped back, tilting her head back to look at him. “The halls of Winterfell have missed you. How is it you get taller every time I see you?” 

[tallisstark]

@frozensharp​

Seven years ago

Tallis had point blank refused to go to the wedding. 

When Rodrik Forrester had left Winterfell, she had gone to her father, and for the first time in her life, he had told her no. No, he could not come back. No, she couldn’t go to him. No, he would not let her marry him. She had begged, and pleaded, and cried, but Kind Brandon had held firm.  He hadn’t been unsympathetic, and attempted to comfort his daughter by telling her he would find her a good match, that her feelings were a passing fancy only natural in a girl her age, but he was missing half the story, and could never understand. She didn’t want marriage, to be a lady and rule a castle and birth future lords and ladies for a shit of a husband. She wanted Rodrik. 

Her father had refused her this time, too. She had declared that she wasn’t going, and he had threatened to drag her by the hair. And so here she was, knocking back wine like her life depended on it and wearing a sour expression. She had already offended the bride, and her father had gone to make it up to Lord Woods, leaving her, for the first time, alone. A rush of impulsiveness ran through her, and she slammed her cup down. She was going to find Rodrik. 

It wasn’t a difficult task. He was taller than most of the other men, and it didn’t take much to dart to his side, interrupting his conversation rudely. She grabbed his hand, without asking, a steely determination in her face. “You owe me a dance, Lord Forrester.” It was a demand, not a request, and she would not allow him to refuse.

[rhaenystheadventurer]

Flashback|| Rhaenys & Rodrik

Gods, she wished the pain would stop. Almost two moons had passed since she’d given birth to her boys. Even then, she hadn’t been able to see them for very long. The moment the maester had laid Gregor at her breast the pains started again. Daemon had been a surprise to everyone, a delightful surprise, of course. He had also been the cause of her bleeding, for the moment he had been pulled from her the maester could not seem to control the bleeding. He had tried to act as if nothing was wrong, but even Rhaenys knew something was wrong. The maester’s panicked expression had given it all away. Or perhaps it was the fact that she was now too weak to hold her babe.

The maester had sworn she would be better within a week of giving birth, yet here she was, two moons later still fighting for her life. Her babes were only brought in once a day by the wetnurse. Sadly, the moment one of them would start crying they’d be carried away to be fed. Even Rodrik wasn’t around to keep her company. His father had died two after the birth and Rhaenys had been the one to convince to leave. She had been getting better at the point, strong enough to hold the babes. No one could have prevented the fever that would weaken her once again. She hated to admit that she now regretted convincing Rodrik to leave. 

Each day she felt waeker and weaker. Each day it got easier to give up, yet she knew she had to stay strong if not for her then for the boys. She was their mother and she had to stay strong for them.