xrightfulking-deactivated201406:

even more drabbles [x]

Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.

The sun was setting over the horizon, making way for a cold, cloudless night at the Wall and the King sat in his makeshift solar. Unused to the harsh cold that seemed to seep through the layers and layers of furs that covered him, the middle-aged man felt his bones getting harsher and harsher by the day, his already stiff joints getting even stiffer, causing his movements to become slower, more stone-like. Yet, the cold didn’t stop him. If the harsh Dragonstone winds didn’t stop him, the bone-chilling cold at the Wall wouldn’t stop him either. There was a realm to protect and and a war to win. To many, it would appear as if the war was already over and that Stannis had surrendered, but he had not — he had merely done what all the others refused to do; he put the kingdom first.

The man sat in a wooden chair, a soft, worn-out pillow making it more comfortable — though comfortable isn’t exactly the word, given that the small pillow only served to make sitting on that chair borderline bearable — when a steward entered the room, panting, gasping for air, as if he had been running. Sansa Stark had reached the Wall, Stannis was informed. Rapidly getting up from his chair, he quickly made his way to where the girl was, telling the steward to call Lord Snow, the girl’s half brother.

Upon reaching the small chamber where they had put the girl, he instantly recognized her. Not that he had seen her before, which he had not, but he knew that she resembled her Tully mother as much as her deceased brother Robb, auburn hair and blue eyes giving her identity away quite easily. There was someone attending to the girl’s cuts and wounds, which apparently were spread throughout her entire body. Stannis meant to talk to the girl alone and so he dismissed whoever it was that was there.

After closing the door behind him, the middle-aged man approached the auburn-haired girl, her thin frame shrunken by the cold and the obvious discomfort, evident in both her eyes and her position. “You needn’t worry, child. I am not here to harm you.” Stannis remarked, turning around to face the small table where vials and pots stood along with a few bandages. “If I wanted you dead, I would have done it already.” he added, applying some ointment on a particularly large gash on the girl’s arm. “Your brother Jon is here and he will soon join you here.” the man added, as a way to reassure the girl, wrapping a bandage over the gash.

After properly taking care of a few other large gashes, Stannis offered her the long fur cloak that covered his shoulders and back, seeing how the girl was still shivering, even after having pulled her dress over her frame. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door — it was Jon Snow. Stannis decided it was better to leave the girl alone with her brother, to allow them relish in whatever it was they could find together. It wasn’t often that Stannis took in his own hands the responsibility of taking care of someone — in fact, he had only done it for Shireen three times before — but the girl seemed so frightened, so utterly lost, that he simply had to help her. So that one day she could help him, by keeping the North faithful to Stannis once the war was over.