starksblood:
𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 , 𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 & 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐁 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ; dappled evening sunlight streams through the breaks in dense foliage & warms the girl beneath , poised in supplication amidst dragon’s breath blossoms . she appears as though a statue of marble , immobile , as if patiently waiting for nature to reclaim what was once earth , what will be again : smokeberry vines tangled around her throat , her mouth full and choking on crimson petals . it is all red here . the plants , the stone . she wonders if it’s a testament to all the blood that’s been shed . the news of queen daenerys’ death hovers over all of them like an omen — a swift blade in the hands of an executioner . they are the condemned .
it’s not prayer , for the fallen queen or otherwise , that she partakes in , though one would assume such from appearance alone . the facelessness of the supposed heart tree has left her awash in fear even stronger than previously thought . there is something stilted and dangerous about the clear irreverence displayed here , in a place where they are claimed to be welcome . her stomach twists anxiously ; all she can see is the statue of lord eddard stark , still & solemn in their crypt . he had been here once . he had died here . the beat of her heart hitches in fright for her family .
it would be better to call it conversation that she engages in , lilting , stilling only to revive again . as her thoughts drift in between reality & obscurity , wind rustles through the leaves overhead ; in it , she hears her father’s tired , gently chiding sigh , and so she hums apologetically in response , quiet and tentative . she can feel the old gods here , even with the false heart tree & the blood of broken smokeberries staining the front of her silken dress , fingers twisting in the grass & stems of the lily - like flowers surrounding her . not a godswood , but a garden . not a girl , but a lone phantom .
until another comes to haunt alongside her . she does not need to see him , hear him — she needs only look to her heart and know . gaze does not flutter , no move is made to turn towards him . it is unnecessary . they need no indication . “ hello , victarion . ” in her voice , a smile trills , a bluebird’s song on spring’s first morning . it is , with little doubt , the first and only she has worn today . the wind stirs again as if murmuring acknowledgement , and her chin tucks atop bare shoulder to greet him with a fond gaze . he is a jagged shadow in the glow of the sunset , hovering between towering elms . were she able , she thinks she’d like to paint him here in shades of vermillon & sable , a wraith amongst men . “ if i try hard enough , the petals of the dragon’s breath — ” she offers up an aforementioned flower to receive his judgement , stem weaved between her trembling fingers . “ — could be weirwood leaves , don’t you think ? ” it is the gentlest form of complaint one could hear — spoken as such that one might never realize it was a complaint at all , if they did not know her .
@wildlingsblood .
WHITE HOT , BLARING IN THE SKY , the sun rained golden rivers over everything and painted the world yellow . there might have been something magnificent about it , but vic had seen the morning light hit the fresh snow , sending diamonds sparking into a dangerous dance . there was something about diamonds that made gold seem so dull . it seemed strange that the sun was still shining on a day such as this , where a gloom hung over the city like a thick fog . the queen was dead , and while vic had never held any love for her , this was the last thing he expected , the last thing he wanted . it was supposed to be a quick trip south , then back up the kingsroad to a castle in the snow where nothing ever had to change . but now ? everything was about to change .
the sun , it seemed , would always shine in the south where there were no snowstorms to block it out and no long nights where one could forget it’s face . the sun did not care that it was raining within the walls of the red keep , tears carving rivulets into the ancient stone . vic did not shed any tears , he said the proper words and hung his head when he fancied , but he did not cry . he did not know the queen , did not care for her , and besides death meant something different in the north . he did worry , though , not because he suspected foul play . he held it as a possibility , strange that death would come when so many new faces surrounded her , but death was strange .
he would take this all in stride , one step at a time , and the first step was always finding rowena , being certain she was safe . he was not with her always , though he might have liked to be , for only then could he always be certain . even away from her , his mind always strayed to her and here , behind the strong walls and the safe swords of the city watch that could hardly be purely on the concern of her safety . upon finding her room empty , he set out across the vast castle gardens to find her . a shadow raced between the manicured foliage , wide eyes peeking out behind the green . “ crow , ” he greeted , immediately searching behind the dog for her owner , who it did not seem was following . “ where’s rowena ? ”
and like that , she was off , to find her person , his person , and he followed closely behind . and as always , she led him right where he wanted to go . he waited for her to notice him , she always did somehow , though he said nothing , made no sound , but she turned to look at him . the old gods were not here , vic felt no sense of holiness and the look in rowena’s eyes told him she agreed . “ a poor imitation , ” he admits , face contorting in distaste for only a moment , until he thinks better of it and meets her gaze with a smile . “ but we won’t be here much longer , i promise . i won’t let them keep us any longer than necessary . ” he is worried about her , of course he is worried about her . but , for her to come here , well it could only mean one thing . “ are you alright ? ”