lyanna stark

You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath. she-wolf, daughter of lord rickard stark, sister to three. winter in her blood, strength in her veins. Not even Lord Rickard's daughter could outrace him, and that one was half a horse herself.

[themaidwolf]

WHO WANTS TO DO A THING? i need more threads on here since vicky is being stubborn. please? and thank you.

[themaidwolf]

happy october everyone!

[neverlietoyou-archive]

You think I won’t?

[themaidwolf]

Oh, I know you probably will.

Be like your brother. Murder and rape and take no stock of what you've done.

[neverlietoyou-archive]

I could put a knife though your throat, bitch. Watch your tongue.

[themaidwolf]

You could, but you won't.

Back down from being the barking dog once in a while, and see what is really going on.

[5000letters]

Gruff men who get all soft and happy when they’re with you 

Big men with calloused hands who touch you like you’re something incredibly special 

Grumpy men who chuckle at your bad jokes 

Calm men who get protective and irrational and then pretend like they didn’t

Stoic men who look at you with gentle smiles on their face when you’re not looking at them with an expression that sort of says “I can’t believe s/he’s with me.” 

[neverlietoyou-archive]

And what’ve you done? Fucked Rhaegar Targaryen?

[themaidwolf]

Just a laugh a minute, aren't you?

Such a cultured swine.

[vicky-greyjoy]

Begrudging Proposal | Lyanna & Victarion

[vicky-greyjoy]

Even after the sum of moons that had passed since he had taken Lyanna at sea, Victarion felt a twinge of apprehension when she initiated any sort of affection.  Years of experience as a brother to Euron Crow’s Eye had taught him that a woman’s willing attentions concealed a jape or aught worse, and it would be some time still before the Lord Captain did not tense almost imperceptibly.  He nodded at her words, however, and tapped his thumb gently against her cheek.  

"You shall find me a fair husband as well, I believe," the Greyjoy responded.  He was unsure if that is what she had expected to hear in return.  It was not false; by all accounts he was far gentler with his women than could be said of other captains, but that was no longer a concern if the young Stark woman was to be his rock wife.  Though he had hardly ever done so in the past, Victarion would no longer issue any threats to her now that her position was to change, for it was not acceptable in the eyes of the Drowned God.  She, too, expressed her understanding that things were to change.  "Anyone who breathes a word of such an idea will be reminded whose rock wife you are."  It was against the Old Way for Ironborn to kill Ironborn, but the lord god beneath the waves would not begrudge a man for blackening the eye of someone who insulted his true wife.

The reaver’s brow rose and fell as his greenlander woman spoke.  Often it annoyed him when those without Iron in their blood confessed their ignorance to his customs, but in this instance he almost found it amusing.  It was only on grounds of infertility or infidelity that he could discard her once the binding ceremony was complete; she would no longer be some bedwarmer to cast aside.  Even if he could, Victarion was hard pressed to think of some precedent that would make him wish to part with her, though her cheeky retorts might rankle at times.  He decided to voice none of this, however, and only stared at her.  Let her think what she will for now.

He had tried to ignore it, so as not to let it affect his decisions, but the collection of ingredients had been displayed on a cutting table when he had returned to his ship, and now his stomach growled with the anticipation of what they might take shape as in the evening.  The captain pressed his lips against the side of her head and spoke against her hair.  ”Is that so?  Pray tell, what is it you wrested from the Drowned God’s domain for us this day?  It looked to be marlin.”

[themaidwolf]

She knew little of Ironborn tradition -- because she was not of their blood, she was not privy to their stories and their past -- what she knew, she gleaned from thralls and women low enough to speak to her. Balon did not talk to her much the one time they had stayed on the Islands, and Alannys was kind -- but she spoke of her sea-lost sons. Victarion had explained that story to her, and Lyanna had felt her heart break. What a terrible loss, for a mother.

Victarion may have been considered a giant, a brute. Perhaps those who knew less of him would think he broke bones with those hands, as though he would snap them like twigs, but Lyanna knew this was not the case, and she was reminded with the pass of his thumb over her cheek. She knew his hands could be weapons, knew that Victarion could crush skulls and rend limbs. But he had never raised that hand against her. He had gotten angry, sure. He had yelled and stared, groused and grumbled. But he had never struck her, or even lifted his arm as though that might be his intent.

She closed her eyes and smiled warmly, at the barest lean of his body inward, and at the press of his lips into her dark hair. She relished it for a moment, and stayed there to speak, reluctant to leave his side -- for certain, she knew a captive woman was not meant to behave this way, but she could not help herself. She had, of all things, cultivated a queer sense of affection for this man, a sense of wanting to fix whatever was broken, or at the very least, hold it together.

"Aye, 'tis what I am told. I find it's flesh to be beautifully steak-like, and as such, have cured it simply in lemon juice and salt, as well as some herbs. I am thinking to simply grill it, and Rodrik procured me some cheese that he tells me melts beautifully. I have some oiled and salted potatoes to go along, and some crusty brown bread I made with the last of the ale."

[themaidwolf]

At least I’m not a wolf bitch who worked for them.

Fancied that, did you? Being Joffrey’s step and fetch?

[neverlietoyou-archive]

Least I did something productive with my life.

[themaidwolf]

Is that what you call being under their thumb? Interesting.

[themaidwolf]

I'm going to be around tonight and bugging people for threads. Prepare yourselves for some Lyanna lovin'. :D

[vicky-greyjoy]

Begrudging Proposal | Lyanna & Victarion

[vicky-greyjoy]

Idly, Victarion reached out and let his own fingers run over hers.  Rather than look at the wages of her toil, he felt them.  The scars and callouses were like islets of hard living amid a sea of satiny softness.  They spoke true of her claims, though the captain had not needed to touch them to know it.  He had watched her earn some of them, over the pot or with needle and thread.  It pleased him to know that she was not so green as those highborn maids of other lands, but now that she was to be his true wife in the eyes of the Drowned God…

Her words hung in his head, lingering like the dense fog that was so common in the Lordsport.  More than anything, the reaver felt surprise at them.  She did know, she knew exactly why he had been so reserved to her conditions.  Victarion’s once-hard gaze upon her softened somewhat.  Lyanna was not attempting to rankle him for the sake of wearying him; in fact, she seemed to want his contentment.  It was not something the captain was accustomed to.  Perhaps allowing her to perform some tasks would not be such a breach of the Old Way, he conceded, spurred to believe it even moreso at the threat of what might transpire if she were kept idle.  He knew well what path her words went down when she suffered boredom and he would not tempt it.

If the Lord Captain had not already slid into the banks of acceptance, the tender moment of affection helped guide him in the rest of the way.  I have no luck with wives, a familiar voice in his head called, but as she sank back down into his arms and he gazed in to the she-wolf’s eyes, he was hard-pressed to find any insincerity.  ”Very well,” he sighed thinly, “I’ll take your terms.”  Victarion let his hand slide up her arm and shoulder, until it rested lightly where her jaw met her neck.  ”The fare you cook is… not worse than that of the thralls.”  He looked away, as if he feared the compliment, as bare as it was, might reveal some weakness in him.

"We shall be joined together in sight of the Drowned God, then," he told her, eventually turning his eyes back, though they seemed trained upon her chest rather than her face.  "It will take some time, I believe.  There will be a specific raiment required…" He knew little of the details involved in an Ironborn union: he had only been to his father’s third wedding and Balon’s first and only, and he had been young and uninterested on both occasions.  "It will be a ceremony worthy of my rank and title though, I can promise you that much."

[themaidwolf]

His hand felt heavy and cool on her neck, and for once, she did not find herself pulling away but rather leaning into it, pressing a kiss to the brunt of his palm where his thumb joined in. "I thank you, Lord Captain. I shall see to it that you will not regret it." She smiled at him, giving him the warmth of the sun and sky in that smile. She was sincere, and happy that he was so willing to let her prove herself to him. 

She leaned in to kiss him again though this time her lips fell to the corner of his mouth, sweeter and more intimate still. "I fear not for the union, Victarion. If I am to be your wife, I must be strong and without fear. I cannot shy away from what is expected of women of the Rock, even though I was not born among them." She rested her fingertips lightly on his chest plate. "Indeed, I must be twice the woman they are, so that I am not thought simply a pretty doll amid the Lord Captain's treasure."

She brought her gaze back up to his face, to his eyes. "I will not allow you to regret choosing me, Lord Captain. And, if someday you do happen upon an ounce of regret, well.. then perhaps it will be suitable to drop me off at the nearest inhabited island. Unless 'tis customary to kill me, and then we shall have to revisit the topic." She braced herself against him so that she might easier lower herself down, bare feet meeting the wood floor of the cabin.

"And the fare I cook is far better than that of the thralls, though I cannot blame them.. they are cooking for what, sixty? I am merely cooking for one ravenous Captain, and am better able to season my cooking." In passing, she gave his hand a squeeze, letting her fingers trail away. "I think you shall like tonight's dinner. I nearly did battle with the beast to pull it from the ocean's depths."

[themaidwolf]

goodnight.

[arcanja2]

Knowing someone isn’t coming back doesn’t mean you ever stop waiting.

Toby Barlow   (via drapetomania)

[poissonnoir-deactivated20141002]

Indie Ser Brynden Tully

home      |      ask      |      about       |      rules

[neverlietoyou-archive]

Oh the wolf bitch gets feisty.

Like a lion. *smirks*

[themaidwolf]

At least I'm not a wolf bitch who worked for them.

Fancied that, did you? Being Joffrey's step and fetch?

[neverlietoyou-archive]

Of course you would. You Starks are stubborn like that.

I'll bet you take being called stubborn as a compliment as well?

[themaidwolf]

Without a doubt, I would.

Call me a Lannister, if you really wish to insult me.

You'll find yourself with a knife in your groin, though. Fair warning.

[neverlietoyou-archive]

I ain’t going to fuck you. Im not like that.

It does for me. So keep your snarky little wolf bitch comments to yourself.

[themaidwolf]

[Gods help her, she laughed. He was big and mean and could easily kill her without feeling an ounce of remorse, but Lyanna couldn't help herself. She had to clasp her hands over her face, to keep it from becoming too much.]

You are doing your best to insult me, Sandor, but I fear it is not working. You may call me a wolf bitch until you lose the air in your lungs, but I will only take it as a compliment.

[neverlietoyou-archive]

Call me ‘ser’ again and I’ll lay you flat out on your back, woman.

I ain’t a knight.

[themaidwolf]

I suppose you'd lay me flat on my back without the promise of fucking then?

[She's amused, and her smile shows it.]

My apologies. I didn't know ser had such a vile connotation.