{ ivorytxsteel }
♕ — - He’d only ever been to the North once, many years
before now. When the summer’s linger faded slowly
when he was but a chubby little boy with not a care in
all of the Seven Kingdoms. King Tommen Baratheon,
first of his name. The cold didn’t bother him, though
he much preferred the sun. Yet, under this cloud of
cold snow his crown weigh upon his head heavily. His
family had been the cause of a lot suffering in the North.
More so Winterfell. Yet, pride laid inside his chest at
the thought of him fixing it. The Starks belonged here
and so they should remain.❝ My lady Sansa. An
honor it is to see
you well once more. ❞
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
Winterfell was more ruin than keep. The seasons changed and brought with it famine, frostbite and darkness that seeped into the very cornerstone of the building. It’s a miracle they survived, after all the blood that has been spilled inside the walls. Eleven years is a long time, she remembered when she first laid eyes on King Tommen, then prince, in the very same spot she greets him now.
Granted, it was her elder brother that she was taken with then but oh, how foolish she was and how dreams turned to nightmares so easily. Eleven years and the North has finally found itself steady footing under her gentle hands. But Rickon was of age and soon he will be lord. The courtyard is hushed, waiting to hear her reply, as though expecting vitriol for all that she has been through. The North remembers and so does she, but she smiles instead.
“You are too kind, Your Grace.
It is a pleasure to have you
here with us. I hope your journey
was none too difficult?”