I'm sorry for the crack. But I'm not. Crack seams to be the only thing that I can write now, so bear with me.
----
Pink Attack
This was a unexpected predicament.
When he set to sidge Winterfell, he was ready for war, not this.
The bastard's head was on a spike waitng for him. A feast in a pink mead hall is ready for a king.
And he is a king.
A king that has no idea what was going on.
Roose Bolton was waiting for me at Winterfell gates. Showering me with praises and apologies, being followed shortly by a small plump woman all garbed in pink. And what a odd sight it was.
The Boltons all in pink cloaks. The husband babbling something about leaches and how they would make me healthy after so long in the snow. And the pink lady muttered to the servant about gardening food and the importance of putting some meat in my bones.
The rest of the night is spent in an almost blur. Lords were coming and going, swearing their alliance to me and all that unnecessary courtesy. All while, the pink lady -who I learned to be Lady Bolton, kept sneaking food to my plate and her kingslaying husband seamed all to comfortable in touching his arm whenever they spoke to each other.
By the end, when all was said and done, he was escorted to his own room by the Boltons.
"Your grace, I don't think you noticed how I haven't pledged my loyalty yet." no matter how the voice was only a whisper, the smile that came with it was more bone chilling that the North's weather.
"Me neither!"
"Of course, I did kingslayer. I notice everything. And what were your reasons for not doing so already?"
"You see, your grace. Me and my wife prepared something special, something we belive that you wouldn't want all the other Lords to see." I suddenly understand the smiles and decide that I may put up with it.
After all, it can't be worse than when Melisandre gave him that particular brand of smile.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: Pink Attack
Date: 2012-03-07 02:28 am (UTC)----
Pink Attack
This was a unexpected predicament.
When he set to sidge Winterfell, he was ready for war, not this.
The bastard's head was on a spike waitng for him. A feast in a pink mead hall is ready for a king.
And he is a king.
A king that has no idea what was going on.
Roose Bolton was waiting for me at Winterfell gates. Showering me with praises and apologies, being followed shortly by a small plump woman all garbed in pink. And what a odd sight it was.
The Boltons all in pink cloaks. The husband babbling something about leaches and how they would make me healthy after so long in the snow. And the pink lady muttered to the servant about gardening food and the importance of putting some meat in my bones.
The rest of the night is spent in an almost blur. Lords were coming and going, swearing their alliance to me and all that unnecessary courtesy. All while, the pink lady -who I learned to be Lady Bolton, kept sneaking food to my plate and her kingslaying husband seamed all to comfortable in touching his arm whenever they spoke to each other.
By the end, when all was said and done, he was escorted to his own room by the Boltons.
"Your grace, I don't think you noticed how I haven't pledged my loyalty yet." no matter how the voice was only a whisper, the smile that came with it was more bone chilling that the North's weather.
"Me neither!"
"Of course, I did kingslayer. I notice everything. And what were your reasons for not doing so already?"
"You see, your grace. Me and my wife prepared something special, something we belive that you wouldn't want all the other Lords to see." I suddenly understand the smiles and decide that I may put up with it.
After all, it can't be worse than when Melisandre gave him that particular brand of smile.