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A Study In Red

“I see the color of blood.” Ellysia kept her gaze on the fire allowing the dragonglass to bite into the soft pillowy flesh of her palm. Warmth pooled there, slipping between the cracks of her fingers.“The Blood of those who damned my family. I see the color of a lion, proud and strong, the color of a comet that streaks through my dreams. The eyes of an animal, bright and wild.”

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New Chapter Update! (Chapter 6)

It was warm in her tent, next to the smoldering fire. A white pelt sat atop a pile of ever-growing gifts, a collection of proposals of which she turned down. She didn’t care for such vain gifts, weapons, furs, and various bones made into trinkets. None of the gifts had anything to do with her and her likes or interests. They were nothing but trophies for men to feel good about themselves. Skinning an albino stag. Weapons and bones stolen from a fallen body.

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New Chapter Update! (Chapter 6)

It was warm in her tent, next to the smoldering fire. A white pelt sat atop a pile of ever-growing gifts, a collection of proposals of which she turned down. She didn't care for such vain gifts, weapons, furs, and various bones made into trinkets. None of the gifts had anything to do with her and her likes or interests. They were nothing but trophies for men to feel good about themselves. Skinning an albino stag. Weapons and bones stolen from a fallen body.

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New Chapter (Ch 5) 

It was her first dress ever. One of a cloud-like grey that matched the sky, decorated in pale embroidery of flowers. Lady Stark had gifted it to her before leaving Winterfell, having informed Ellysia that she was no longer a worker here, that her hands would callous no further. Ellysia was now a respected guest of Winterfell, and was to be treated as such.

For someone who had worn breaches all their life, Ellysia had quickly taken a liking to skirts and dresses. Sure it was a little tight at the top and she did worry about her apples spilling out the barrel. But her dress came with pockets, in which she could conceal things with ease. Sharp and pointy things. More importantly, it offered her so much freedom in mobility. She wondered if she kicked high enough, would she be able to reach Theon Greyjoy’s face?

She turned to look behind her, Theon Greyjoy followed closely behind with his bland unimpressed face. He invited himself much against Robb’s protests. One hand gripped at his bow like it were a lifeline, the other hand not too far from his quiver. His eyes were on Ellysia, he didn’t trust her. Perhaps Theon Greyjoy was smarter than she had given him credit for. 

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A Study In Red  (read story here) 

“This isn’t a story about revenge, sweet daughter. This is a story about freedom.”

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Chapter Fifty Six - The Prisoner

She’d heard they had every intention to marry Margaery to Tommen as soon as possible, but he was far too young to consummate the union. It was little more than the signing of a contract, a promise to remain allies until the young king was older. And until he was, Tywin would be determining the fate of the realm. Margaery would have no real power until Tommen came of age.

For that reason alone, Myra dismissed the notion of her involvement in the murder.

“Tommen is a kind boy, and he will make a fine king,” Myra admitted, standing. “Do well by him, Margaery. I, too, remember what we spoke of.”

Queen of the Four Kingdoms had such a terrible ring to it.

Read here

Tagging: @john-silver @moonagedaydreamstuff @drbobbimorse @lostiintheocean @perfectlystiles @butcherofblackwater @margothedestroyerr @itsjustgracy @ocfairygodmother @mystic-scripture @booty-boggins @mimikoflamemaker

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❝Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit.❞

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I was tagged by the wonderfully talented @tageryens-wp to share my WIP. I don’t have much, in fact this is all I have at the moment.

Read below the cut

Keep reading

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“Four children were produced between Lord Tywin and his second wife, the Lady Marianne,” Mollander said, squinting at the yellow pages. “A pair of twins, same as his first wife had provided him, and then another daughter and son.”

inspired by this

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I was tagged by the wonderfully talented @tageryens-wp to share my WIP. I don’t have much, in fact this is all I have at the moment.

Read below the cut

Horses are such hideous creatures. She had thought to herself. 

In actuality, Ellysia had never seen a horse up close in her life until now. She never realized how morbidly unproportionate their bodies were. Their spindly legs were mere skin and bones while the rest of them was nothing but a large mass of muscle. The way its inky eyes looked at her made her hairs on her body stand on end, like this beast knew all her secrets. Worst of all? They were giant idiots with no field of depth or concept of personal space. 

She and Robb were in the stables with Hullen, the master of horses. Hullen like Old Nan was a grey old thing, sat hunched on a bale of hay. Every once in a while he would wheeze a dry old laugh at her dismay and fright. Robb was doing his best to control his face. Every once in a while she would catch his noble facade cracking and he would bite down on a gloved hand to hold back his laughter. 

The horse that had taken a liking to her was named Dancer, he was Bran Stark’s horse. And currently, his snout was lifting the hem of Ellysia’s skirt to snort out loud. 

“Good Ser! If you are trying to seduce me then you must at the very least pick me a handful of wildflowers first!” 

“He’s looking for carrots!” Hullen rough voice sounded like a horse had kicked him in the throat. If that wasn’t the case she was about to.

Ellysia gathered her skirt. She wasn’t about to let this giant atrocity soil the only nice outfit she owned.

“He’s trying to play Come Into My Castle with me!” She darted behind Robb where surely the horse couldn’t follow. 

Robb choked on his spit, coughing to clear his throat. “I don’t think you understand the concept of that game.” 

I tag: @darkwolf76 @hughstheforcelou @starsandstormyseas @ocfairygodmother!!!

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HOW IS THIS BAD ITS SO BEAUTIFUL!?

I was tagged by @dwellordream for wip wednesday and here is some stuff i have been working on today.

THE WOODEN SWORD HIT HIS SHOULDER, HARD ENOUGH TO BRUSIE AND STRONG ENOUGH TO KNOCK HIM TO HIS KNEES BUT DAMON GRITTED HIS TEETH AND JUMPED BACK ON HIS FEET. He wasted no time picking up his practice sword and aiming to hit Robb Stark between his ribs, a shot that his opponent deflected before raising his own sword. This time Damon was fast enough to dodge the attack but he had time to celebrate his victory as the spar continued without pause. He gripped the handle of the practice sword, determined to win the spar.

It was proving to be a difficult feat; Robb Stark is two years his elder and therefore had two more years of experience. And the northerners fight so differently than that of the South, much more bold and brutish and not so cunning or sly. He should have paid more attention to the other fights, he should have been more observant of their techniques but he was distracted by Joffrey and his burning remarks.

From the corner of his eyes, he can see everyone. Joffrey watches with half interest, seeming more interested in the wrinkles on his tunic than the spar. He could see Sandor and Ilaria — who he hadn’t even realized was in the courtyard — as well. Sandor stares at him with a bored expression but looks nonetheless and Ilaria stares at with a frown and something akin to annoyance in her eyes. Damon is only glad that Jaime isn’t here to see him still sparring with Robb without any victory. He could only imagine the disappointment on Jaime’s face.

Damon swung his sword even harder, hitting Robb’s forearm. It was only practice but he refused to lose; not with so many people watching and not with own pride on the line. Robb lifted his sword, clashing it against Damon’s, the familiar sound of wood hitting wood ringing in his ears. Robb didn’t stop his attack, repeatedly hitting his sword against Damon’s until Damon felt his arms getting weary and the ground becoming unsteady beneath his feet. 

“Damon!” a voice called out and Damon instinctively turned his head. 

A moment of distraction is all that Robb needed to disarm him, knocking the sword out of his hand. Damon’s sword clattered to the ground as Robb lifted the end of his sword under Damon’s chin. “Yield,” he said, pride evident in his voice.

Damon glanced at the fallen wooden sword, wondering if he could pick it up fast enough to continue the spar. But it was too far and the fight is well over. “I yield.” he grudgingly surrendered.

gonna tag @golden-limbs @claryxjackson @ilovecommas

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THIS IS SO PRETTY?

— Richelle Mead  ( i )

tag list: @ochub @ocappreciationtag​ @anotherunreadblog @eddysocs @notanannoyingfangirl @raith-way  - want to be added? pm me!

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Wow these are so pretty, well done @lahnistersden

randvi & lancelot + i love you (insp)

❝It didn’t make any sense at first, but now I realize that I was chosen for this, for you..❞

tag list: @ochub @ocappreciationtag​ @anotherunreadblog @eddysocs @notanannoyingfangirl - want to be added? pm me!

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