#( lenora wyck : in character. )
Starter for @librarywent
Spindly fingers were clasped behind her back while heeled shoes clopped against the stone floors of the Dreadfort, echoing and making her presence known. Whereas Searchlight had always been bright and warm, thanks to the countless candles and hearths scattered throughout her family's seat, this castle was bone-chillingly cold. It was as though servants purposefully kept the fires hardly alive. She did not mind, though. The whipping winds from the Bay of Ice mixed with the storms from the Wolfswood made her used to chilled air.
"What shall I call you? Lord Father or simply Lord Bolton?" she asked, her tone light and relaxed, as if she were thinking out loud and not truly expecting a response. Like a ghost, she drifted around the chair so that she was planted between a hearth and the man, forcing him to acknowledge her presence. "I hear Lady Walda is with child."
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starter for @librarywent ( lenora & martin )
GOTHAM SURPRISINGLY WAS MUCH MORE tolerable than blühaven. she thought both would carry the same putrid, almost fishy smell, but it did not. the blonde found herself cursing herself for not hopping the coast much sooner. at least then it would have been a willing relocation that resulted in her car remaining unpunctured with bullets. it would have also prevented the chaos of a seemingly city wide blood hunt for her, but that is in the past, she told herself.
scuffed heels stomped and splashed into the murky rain water on the new city sidewalks. she had not slept or bathed in two days. black crescents were visible under russet brown eyes and knotted strands of blonde stuck out in every which way. she knew she looked like she had just been thrown about in a tornado --- messy, dirty. designer clothes were strained with city street dirt and torn. normally she took so much more care of herself, but given what she had been through, it was amazing she did not look any worse. bullets were in her car ( which had been ditched long ago ), not a single one in her body and for that lenora guessed she should be grateful.
thankfully, words travelled amongst the underground with ease. if who was in charge in gotham, the constant fights for power, did not creep its way into blühaven gossip, she was sure she would be stuck forever at the bottom rung of the latter. she was not a bug beneath a rock, she was meant to fly with the eagles. lenora was determined to weasel herself into gotham crime one way or another. the rumors made it seem like a lucrative business and if she managed to make in blühaven, a city regarded as being much worse than gotham, she could adapt easily to the environment.
fingers curled around a door handle, nearly yanking it off the hinges when she pulled it. she half expected it to be locked and it swung open with ease. the door was a sign of sanctuary for her. soon she would have her comfy amenities again --- a nice shower, clothes, and car. maybe after than, she could take a little vacation to her beloved blühaven and commence her own hunt --- but that would have to wait. despite the flooding in of light, her arrival was hardly minded which caused a frown to twitch on her features.
“ hellooo. ” rather impulsively, a hand reached for to a cup sitting abandoned. instead of picking it up and swallowing the little bit of liquid in it ( she had not drank anything in seemingly forever ), lenora’s had swiped at it like a mischievous cat. the glass shattered against the ground and she could feel what eyes in the room finally dart in her direction --- it was familiar feeling, though she was regretful she looked so dreadful in that moment. all the eyes made her feel like she was in her element once more. “ forgive my appearance. i have had a rather long journey. ” the blonde took a step, the glass crunching beneath her soles. “ i am looking for this penguin --- cobblepot ?? whoever is in charge, really. i am not particular. ” names got muddled in the grapevine.
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starter for @librarywent ( lenora and ramsay )
THE MARCH THROUGH THE WOLFSWOOD had taken the lives of two horses, but thankfully not her own. the forest inhabits were rowdy from the ironmen occupation of deepwood motte, but they proved to be more like insects on a southern summer’s day rather than formidable opponents. wolves, bears, and treecats were shot down and slew with ease by wyck soldiers. lenora decided their pelts would make for a decent wedding gifts even though it was her own. the word spinster would no longer follow her.
a part of her missed searchlight only after a few days of riding, however, and she had the urge to turn back and gallop home. she did not trust the knight she had placed as castellan to do his duty diligently in her place, nor the maester she had ordered to watch the knight, until jean became of age. the other part of her was giddy with excitement, like a little girl, at the prospect of a new castle. lenora no longer needed to carve herself out a stable position of leadership in searchlight ( she had a bigger opportunity ahead ) and jean would be able to truly be a boy, a lively one perhaps, without his sister around. before leaving, she went to the family tombs and told her father that his true heir was his heir again and that his daughter was doing her duty for once.
by the time they reached the end of the forest, snowfall coated the ground and made horses trudge slower. every northerner knew what snow during a wedding meant --- a cold union. she heard a few men behind her whisper that they hoped it would stop before the next day, or at least during the ceremony. she wanted to whip her head around to bark at them, to tell them how stupid they were being, but instead she bit her tongue and thin eyebrows furrowed together. no matter the weather on her wedding day, she knew the marriage would be cold. lenora wyck was not a warm woman.
she had grown exhausted and her behind sore from the day-to-night riding. she knew her eagerness to arrive to the dreadfort made her look lovesick and the realization made her stomach knot in disgust. being lovesick meant she was weak. weak meant she was no longer respect by her men. they were viewing her as a simple stupid lady, not the person who had kept many of them alive during the war with her orders and battle plans. that thought made her want to scream at them again, like the superstitions around snow and weddings made her, but like so many times before she kept quiet. letting the illusion she was enthralled with the bastard boy on the other side of the wolfswood continue would make her scheming easier.
the site of castle towers on the horizon, peaking through the snow flurries, made the woman kick her horse into going faster. she wanted off that beast, to lay down in an actual bed, and sleep. she was of noble blood and was unaccustomed to slumbering outside in the cold and on bedrolls. she found herself amazed she had not gotten ill. in that moment, though, lenora cared not for how especially excited she looked as she rode quickly ahead of her men into the courtyard of the approaching castle. her banners thundered in behind her just as she was threw her legs from her steed.
“ lord ramsay, ” she addressed, voice almost sickly sweet compared to its usual coldness. her skirts and furs almost looked like a blue banner waving in the wind as her leg swung off gracefully from her horse and her feet landed with a soft thud in the snow. lenora would have never addressed him as such before, but a piece of paper meant a lot in these times --- even if its writing declared a bastard legit and was signed by a bastard king. the man’s last name might have changed, but not his blood. he was only half a noble in her eyes and she knew she would have to disguise that contempt. “ i kept all your letters. ” a lie, she threw them all in the fireplace of her chambers. “ i have gifts for you, my lord. ”
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@librarywent sent: “You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”
"And yet, here a king stands before me," she murmured, lazily bringing her drink to her lips. Dark eyes did not waver and persistently bore into his own as she drank. Once empty, the cup was pulled from her lips and haphazardly sat on a neighboring wooden table. Her tongue jutted out from her mouth to lick her lips, as if she were savoring any wine that might remain on them, before returning her full attention to the man before her.
"Will you fall to your knees for me? Or shall I call you a liar?"
PROMPT.
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@librarywent asked: A last dance before the feast. norarams?
She eyed him silently, goblet gripped in her hand as though it were welded to her palm. Her eyes flickered over his frame, his elegant doublet. Ramsay did not look himself outside of typical dark leather clothing --- hunting wear, Lenora often unaffectionately referred to it as. It was as though he were a different man, despite holding the same aura of sinisterness she was so attached to.
"You know how to dance?" The question held an air of disbelief about it, a thin eyebrow even arching when it was spoken. A quick drink was taken from her cup before it was placed atop the walnut-colored table. She observed him for a few more moments before reaching out for a hand before she pushed herself up from the chair. "Don't step on my feet or gown."
PROMPT.
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@librarywent asked: who’s side are you on? norarams fight? 👀
"I am on my side!" she shrieked, the veins in her neck bulging angry and red as if they were near popping. The jewel-encrusted goblet smashed against the rough grey walls of their room, gold chunks and hunks of rubies flying about and clattering against the floor. The goblet rolled awkwardly against the now wine-coated stone before the newly created dent halted its movement.
Someone had to be on her side. Everyone had always been against her, even those who had shared a womb with her. The bodice of her gown felt too tight suddenly, chest heaving as though she had just run from a pack of beasts in the Wolfswood. The red in her neck was disappearing, giving the false message that her rage had begun to subside. Instead, perhaps because of the Arbor gold in her belly, Lenora now felt it in her head. It thumped like a war drum, screaming at her to attack the man before her.
"Does stepping on my neck make you feel taller?" There was an odd air about her now, like the calm before a terrible storm. Her head lulled to the side, eyes drifting shut while a hand blindly searched for a new cup to dump Arbor gold into. She knocked a few spare ones onto the floor during her search, not reacting when they all clanged and clattered. When it came time to pour, her eyes reopened and she could feel her head still pounding fiercely.
She took several sips from her cup, the back of her hand wiping her lips and slightly smearing the paint upon her lips. Brown eyes flickered up and down his form, desperately searching for an imperfection, something to fuel her anger. A deep breath was taken, the tightness of her bodice from earlier nearly gone but not the ache in her skull. The cup was abandoned haphazardly on the table, a part of its base hanging from the edge, before she began drifting away.
After a few steps, she stopped, swaying ever-so-slightly. She peeped over her shoulder to see if Ramsay was still near. She licked her lips slightly, eyeing him somehow angrily and impishly. "Your bastard blood poisons you," she spoke, hoping her words elicited a response. She had spent the last few moments deciding on what to insult, but she decided to use the word that angered him the most.
PROMPT.
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@librarywent asked: ❝ i am yours and you are mine. ❞ noRARAMS
Dark eyes peered upward into blue ones as she felt fingers working at the base of her neck to release the maiden cloak. The snow beneath her knees and boots was fresh and crunchy, making sounds at the slightest of movements. The white-coated godswood was an unfamiliar site to Lenora as the one in Searchlight never saw so much snow. It was nearly always green or gray, at least until the dead of winter.
"I am yours and you are mine," she repeated, knowing their words were untraditional. When she felt the new cloak draped upon her shoulders and clasped firmly, she pushed herself up from the snowy floor, a hand reaching out to the man so that her footing was secure against the new snow. Briefly, her eyes flickered towards the weirwood, feeling under scrutiny because of its gaze. Did the tree think she lied about her devotion?
She fixated her eyes upon the man beside her again, blue and brown boring into each other, almost as if they were the only two people in the godswood, even the universe. A hand slipped free from fur to reach out towards Ramsay's hair, gently brushing a few speckles of white free from black hair before resting digits against his cheek. Though on the outside they appeared affectionate, almost like any other happily wedded couple in the continent, their unity meant something more sinister. They were a song of ice and fire, after all.
PROMPT.
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starter for @librarywent ( ramsay + lenora )
THE CHAMBERS WERE DARK, DRAFTY even. the fire t hat had once raged in the hearth was now nothing more than a fading mound of dying embers. she had no desire to rekindle the flame. no fire could warm her body now. lenora, as her body tucked prettily in the castle’s tombs, would never know warmth again.
the wyck woman did not like thinking too much about her last night, about how a baby --- most likely of black hair and the bluest eyes --- tried ripping itself from her body. was this how her mother felt during jean’s birth ?? perhaps lenora had been too harsh on the other woman, too quick to blame her for passing. lenora’s own complications were unforeseeable. after all, midwives and maesters alike promise she was growing a healthy baby in her womb, that she would have an easy birth several moons later. did the searchlight scholars tell her mother the same thing, only to have the woman die upon the birthing bed after her new blonde babe ripped himself from her womb ??
the scuffling of boots against stony floors made her head turn. her eyes reflected the few candles that burned in the room, making chestnut eyes appear almost a fiery color in the darkness. for the first time in her existence, she felt a nervous knot in her stomach, or at least what she assumed to be one. yet, she was unsure of as to why that feeling had made itself known. it was almost amazing how she, despite everything, despite her current inability to feel even warm or cold, still was capable of emotions. if anything, a larger scope beyond anger and annoyance was suddenly opened to her since her passing.
“ were you out hunting ?? ” her words were surprisingly soft, gentle even, oddly enough. she showed no sign of her usual maliciousness or scorn as she rose from her chair. not much had changed in the chambers --- her favorite chair and goblets remained seemingly untouched. she could have even sworn there was a light layer of dust beginning to form on the cups. ringed fingers tugged at her flowy gown, the very one she had been laid in the crypts in. “ i was waiting for you . . . you always seem to visit me, so i thought i would visit you for a change, husband. ”
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@librarywent sent : “ nora, my love, come join me. ” / unprompted.
THE WAY HER WINE SWISHED in its cup resembled a whirlpool in the sea, sentencing any nearing sailors to a swirling death. yet, she cared not for any imaginary seamen that may have lurked, somehow living, in the liquid. she drank in long sips, as though her wine were ambrosia. the idea of sailors reminded her of searchlight, yet though few fond memories came to mind. she wondered if the seat laid in ruins now, entirely ransacked by the clans lurking within the wolfswood or perhaps by distant ironborn relatives from the sea. jean nearly crossed her mind, but a distant voice in the darkness of the chamber tore her mind from the boy.
“ are you cold ?? ” she asked quietly, a hint of teasing in her tone. she finished her drink quickly and left the cup abandoned somewhere in their quarters before drifting near the bed, phantom-like and elegant even. spindly fingers reached out to a man’s silhouette, sleeve of her robe ghosting ever-so lightly against him as she found his cheek. how they both enjoyed feigning softness, normalcy even.
“ you’ve never called me that before, ” she murmured, though unsure of what she was referring to. she cannot recall a time where she was ever called nora or my love before, especially in a singular sentence. hand still cupping the bolton’s bastard’s face, she took a seat on the side of the bed, legs dangling from it.
blonde hair tumbled over her shoulder as she leaned closer, lips peppering surprisingly soft kisses against ramsay’s jaw. “ perhaps you should more often, ” she suggested once near his ear, playfully nipping at it.
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@librarywent sent : “ you must not let your personal history cloud your judgement. ” to lenora from petyr / prompt.
SHE NEARLY ABANDONED THE FACADE in that moment to laugh at the weaselly man’s. “ personal history ” was such an understatement. she and her bastard of bolton had lead a successful campaign in the north and were on their last legs on reaching the fated iron throne. of course a man like littlefinger had to make an appearance towards the end, to reap the rewards of their labor. he fancied himself a king, but she knew he would flee as the first prospect of a battle. why would she want a king like that beside her ??
he thought that she and ramsay were being played for as fools, but they knew better. play along, they both decided. play him for a fool. the northern duo were, after all, so close to achieving their goal. they were deserving of a little entertainment, were they not ?? and lenora made sure to relay every detail to the soon-to-be king.
“ what would you do, lord littlefinger ?? ” she asked, turning away from the man and making sure her back was entirely to him before rolling her eyes. sometimes the game was boring, sometimes her patience was already thin from ramsay. she could only listen to the southern man’s continuous attempts to sway her into being rational, consider more sides, only for so often.
she had learned the best thing, more often than not, was to trust her impulsivity. it had gotten her this far, had it not ?? she was nearly a queen. if she twiddled her thumbs and pretended to consider things from every perspective, lenora imagined herself still stuck in searchlight. she would have been miserable and merely keeping the seat warm for her kid brother. no, instead she grabbed her bastard and the two of them made a plan. a successful one at that. she had little interest in petyr’s conniving.
“ i may be carrying a prince, ” she reminded the man, her furs concealing any possible bump beneath it. “ personal history is within me. ” personal history did not explain the bond she had with the bolton. though he enraged and she wished him dead more often than not, he was the closest thing to a twin flame she had in the universe. they were alike, yet so different --- he dark of hair and a bastard, and she blonde and trueborn, yet with the same ambition. “ what would you do ?? kill the father ?? send the babe to the wall ?? ”
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@librarywent sent : “ surrender. ” Rams to Lenora 👀 / prompt.
“ WHY SHOULD I ?? ” HER TONE held a bit of mischievousness in it as she looked down at the man from her chair. it had only been a few days since the return of her father and brother’s remains to searchlight. they had not even been placed in the crypts below yet before the bolton banners appeared on the horizon, slipping from the wolfswood like ants. a part of her almost jested that they could have brought her family’s remains from the massacre that had been the red wedding and saved the time of the previous couriers. “ you underestimate how strong our walls are. ”
it was just the bastard and a handful of his soldiers huddled in the great hall. lenora knew she could easily wave her hand and her own men would swarm in and slaughter them. she would not have to move an inch and jean would not even wake beside her. the boy hardly knew anyone was inside. the men that remained outside could pound at her walls and gate all they wanted, but she knew they would not fall. the iron islanders never broke in and neither would the boltons.
she had full intentions of surrendering, however. she liked to be on the winning sides and it seemed, in that moment, the banners before were the winners. the starks had been nearly exterminated and a new family had to come in as the wardens. still, lenora did not like to be compliant. she was as stubborn as bull most days, especially with men. she had to fight for her respect tooth and nail, especially after her father’s untimely passing. she did not like being told what to do, she never had been, even if it was apart of her plan.
“ who are you to come into my seat and tell me what to do, lord snow ?? ” she asked, carefully watching his face to see how he responded to the title. her eyes almost glowed orange in the hall’s fires as the smallest of smirks crept onto her features.
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@librarywent sent : “ i hate waiting. ” Rams to Lenora ! / prompt.
SHE TOOK A DEEP BREATH and her chest pressed against the breast of her armor uncomfortably. she had not grown up wearing the metal so she felt unusually bulky in it. most days, she wore gowns and oh, how she loved them. she would sometimes feel ghost-like with her quick and graceful movements in them. that was a much more suited feeling for her. she was not meant to feel like a hulking beast in a pottery shop. even so, it had be insisted she wear the piece if she were to meet ramsay on the field. those servants did not want the usurper queen injured, or they at least feared how the usurper king would react.
“ as do i, ” she responded, wriggling in her armor slightly. lenora’s horse let out what could be read as an annoyed huff in response to the movement. she wanted to peel the armor from her form as soon as possible, but she doubted where to start with the straps. she would have to wait for some stupid serving girl to help her, though lenora imagined that would take even more time.
gloved hands gripped her horse’s reigns, still frustrated with her dress. “ come, husband, ” she finally spoke again, one hand abandoning the reigns so that she could reach out and touch ramsay. “ come back with me for dinner. ” she brushed a piece of snow dusted hair from his face. if he accepted, lenora figured she would have good company for a few more hours. “ they will not survive a siege. they know that. ” her horse stepped closer. the fingers that danced in his dark hair moving down to tilt his chin so they were face to face. “ i imagine they will admit defeat by the morrow. ”
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@librarywent : ‘ unbelievable. all our enemies are alive and having a lovely day. ’ from Rams to the wifey / prompt.
“ BROODING WILL SOLVE NOTHING, ” SHE sighed, dark eyes flickering away from the frosted glass. outside, the winter weather was just as dreary as ever. lenora was certain it would snow overnight again. the only thing lovely about their enemies’ day was how they, somehow, miraculously had their lives.
she drifted away from the window to near ramsey, blue gown fluttering behind her. the way she moved was similar to a treecat lurking in the wolfswood. her steps dared not to even make a sound against the stone floor. once behind him, her hands came to grip the back of the chair he sat in.
“ you are clever, ” she whispered, hands sliding to his shoulders. she even gave a gentle squeeze. “ i am sure my husband can think of something to ruin their day with. ” a smirk crept onto pale features with her own ideas alone, but it was seemingly his own pride that was injured. that could not be fixed with her ideas. lenora imagined the idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.
a hand ran up his shoulder and neck, her burned fingers carefully tilting his head back to make him look at her. unbraided blonde hair almost created a curtain between them and the rest of the room. she almost found it laughable that she could feign gentleness with him sometimes. they were not soft people.
“ ruin their lovely day, ” she reiterated, her gaze fixating itself on his eyes. they were the prettiest shade of blue, almost the exact same shade as her dress. she leaned down to plant a fond kiss against his forehead, before dark eyes look down into the icy ones again.
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@librarywent : ❝ i believe you were made to wear the crown. ❞ littlefinger to lenora !! / lol i lost the prompt.
A SLIMY MAN THIS ONE was, she had picked up on his snake-like behavior early on. he appeared like the type to meddle, to slither underneath the underbrush and patiently wait to bite an unsuspecting ankle. she only knew because she saw herself in him --- underestimated and yet, determined. they were cut from the similar cloths, she silk and he satin.
i know, she wanted to say matter-of-factly to him. she did not need a southerner, especially a man, stroking her ego. the blonde knew she was destined for greatness, or at least destined to die trying to achieve it. she was just as northern as the other houses. she had proven herself to being an adept leader, both in her father’s absence and after his untimely death at the twins. the starks were nearly gone --- the north needed a new monarch and she saw no reason why it could not be her.
“ the north is bigger than the entire south combined, ” she said, carefully choosing her words. she made sure not to truly state her feelings, though she imagined her favor for an entirely independent north was an obvious thing. many northern had said so when robb stark declared himself the king in the north. still, she did not dare state it directly out loud. such words could still be easily considered treasonous. petyr baelish was a sneaky man and she imagined he would most likely twist her words into something they were not. she would certainly watch her tongue around him, though her brows furrowed at the idea of holding back her words. she did not like hiding her ambition. “ i am sure many smallfolk would accept a new king or queen with pleasure. ”
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@librarywent sent : a kiss after one muse has killed for the other from rams to lenora >:o) / prompt.
SHE SUPPOSED SHE SHOULD BE used to all the things she had been called over the years. a bitch, a dried up spinster, and even a sorceress. crude remarks followed her like her own shadow did. it was the nature of womanhood --- being called awful things by men constantly no matter what you did. despite the years of hearing such terrible things, the sting that came along with the words never went away. the only thing that changed was her ability to hide her displeasure grew and her memory expanded as not to forget anything ever said by anyone.
the random, grimy knight had said that there were prettier horses out in the stable, which earned a gaggle of laughs in response from the few other men in the room --- too many for her to notice who was not hooting with amusement. thin eyebrows furrowed tightly together as she meant the man’s gaze before a hand snatched up her bejeweled goblet, silently nursing the growing flame of anger in her stomach with both drink and gruesome thoughts. she had no experience scalping, but she liked the idea of cutting what she imagined to be lice infested hair from his body and tossing it into a fire.
with her nose buried into her cup, she almost did not notice the seat beside her pushing back and scraping against the stony floor of the hall. brown eyes flickered to see the bastard bolton drifting away from her side like a phantom clad in black. he also reminded her of a hunter in the wolfswood, desperately searching for a kill that would grant him the most meat or the prettiest pelt. she could tell he had a target in mind and that made her mindless sipping stop. lenora was a gawking hawk, ramsay a determined hunter, and the nameless knight they prey.
her eyes widened when she saw a flash of silver. her eyes glimmered almost the same way they had when she had been a little girl sitting in searchlight’s great hall just before she shoved her hands into the crackling flames. she was curious, excited even, her sight never drifting from her new spouse. she could not ever remember anyone coming to her defense before, to say or show that such words were not acceptable. though her dreams of revenge were more dramatic and bloody, the scene of ramsay shoving a knife into the gross man made lenora’s heart speed up, like she had been the one to do the stabbing. it was thrilling to see someone, who had been unsought out especially, perform a kill for her.
for the first time since she saw him heading away from the table, her gaze flickered away from him and to the twitching knight on the ground. she could see blood oozing out of him, like he had been a squashed grape. lenora pushed herself from the table, now set on seeing the man up close, though her eyes flickered back to ramsay. she fancied herself the hunter now and ramsay the prey in the wolfswood. the blonde cared not for the hem of her blue gown that got trailed in the dying body’s blood as she neared.
“ for me ?? ” she asked softly when she was close enough, almost like how any other lady would respond to flowers or pretty gold jewelry from their lord. the man on the floor was a pitiful sight --- all talk in life, but pathetic dying. she could have sworn she saw tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. “ are you trying to relay a message to your men ?? ”
lenora’s words were quiet, making sure that the raven haired man knew that what she said were words only meant for him. thin fingers danced down his forearm to lightly grip the wrist of the hand that held the knife. it was a bittersweet feeling --- she wished she had been the one to stab, but having someone do it seemingly in her honor was a treat of its own. “ or are you telling me something ?? ”
her free hand, the one that did not hold his wrist, crept up to plant itself on his shoulder. dark brown and baby blue eyes were level with each other while noses nearly met at their tips. she found it funny --- only a few moons ago she was repulsed at the idea of touching a bastard ( or anyone, really ) so intimately, yet now she sought out ramsay’s contact after his kill. you are growing weak, she scolded herself. or was she growing strong now that she found someone seemingly so much like her ??
“ i suppose i should thank my husband, ” the blonde sighed, eyes flickering to the now lifeless body at their feet before returning to icy ones. she almost sounded bored, but her heart still beat rapidly against her ribs while adrenaline rushed through her veins. her hand upon his shoulder gave a light squeeze, as if lenora were reminding him it were still there, before letting go. “ is that what you want ?? a thank you ?? ” fingers found themselves in dark hair, even giving a little a little tug as her stare remained fixated on his face, brows pinched together again, as though she were thinking. she let out another light sigh before using her fingers in his hair to navigate the man’s lips to her own.
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@librarywent sent : ❛ There’s a sting in the way you kiss me ❜ from rams to lenora :eyes: / prompt.
“ YOU ARE LUCKY TO BE a man allowed to kiss me, to touch me, ” she hissed, rage seeping into her words like venom from a snake’s fangs. she wanted to grab him by the neck, to let her fingernails leave crescent moons in his skin while she choked him. she wanted to lean down to kiss him almost affectionately, blonde hair creating a curtain between them and the rest of the world, before taking his lip between her teeth and tearing it from his face. she wondered if one of his precious pups would like it as a snack. “ yet, you still mingle with that kennel girl. ” lenora could not even utter her name.
she wondered what any other lady would do in this situation. would they cry and ask silly questions like why not me ?? the mere idea was humiliating, her pride was too strong to beg and grovel. she did not care for him the way women typically did for their spouse. she simply tolerated him, appreciated the company since they were seemingly twin flames. the were the same on the inside. still, she would rather kill ramsay, to make it so neither woman had the bastard’s attention. lenora was a jealous woman and had been since she crawled free from her mother’s womb, though she would never honestly admit it. whatever she wanted would become hers one way or another. it would stay hers or cease to exist entirely.
“ she makes you reek of shit, ” the blonde spat out, her tone only becoming more vicious with every spoken word. lenora could always tell when the two of them had been together. she spun from him as if she could smell the other woman in that moment. her silence only lasted a few seconds before she began speaking again. “ is this little affair of yours your attempt to make me jealous ?? ” a foolish question really as if she was not painfully green with envy already. peeping over her shoulder at the man, she continued. “ since you are clearly allowed other company, perhaps i will go down to the stables and find a nice boy to keep me company while you visit her tonight. ”
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