𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: just between the northern camp and the gates of king’s landing. 𝙳𝙰𝚃𝙴: second seed, 300 a.c. 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷: sansa stark ( @gentlewlf ).
𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝚈 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝙳𝙴𝙴𝙿 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚆𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙻𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷. he will break and maul, rip and tear until the war is won — so much like brandon, the wolf blood coursing violent through untamed veins, hot - tempered and vengeful in their raze of lands, their boned - picked littered dead which shadow the valley. but where the wild wolf perished, the young wolf prevails. southron men recoil as his grey wind bristles, direwolf stalking forth at sinistral side. robb has bore witness, time and time again, to a destrier’s cranium splintering betwixt teeth much akin to a guillotine. taller than man on stretched haunches, THEY ARE RIGHT TO DREAD THE KING AND HIS BEAST.
WOLF BROTHER AT THE GATES, he doesn’t smile anymore, the heart a heavy burden. sorrow and war have melted softness from the remnants of boyhood, death and pain, anger and loss, hardening the lines of a lord made king. there is a minute of quiet in a loud and shouting world. the cold of near winter rustles his oxblood curls, a low growl accompanying the part of his shifting maw. ❛ you may see your kingslayer intact when i see my sister is the same. ❜ grave tonality, spoken by one who has killed what they used to be, committed to self slaughter and met the descent of grace without the mar of resistance. a steady palm is set upon the fabled mammoth’s back, gloved digits curling into smoke - grey fur. ❛ I MAKE NO AMENDS. WHERE IS SANSA ? ❜
