I read this prompt, and then aproximately five minutes later this appeared...Let's assume that Roose was allowed to go back to the Dreafort after the war was over, how he got spared I don't know. Hope you were looking for something like this ;).
“Walda!” roared Roose, as he stormed through the Dreadfort, making his way towards his wife’s chambers. This was his castle, and no one, not even his lady, had a right to meddle in certain things.
He found Walda calmly sewing by a window. From the sheer amount of pink cloth in her hands, he wagered that she was making him another cloak. If she kept making them at this rate, they would have enough to outfit a small army.
“Yes, my Lord?” she replied calmly.
“You burned my leeches.”
“Oh, those terrible things. They leave such ugly marks on your skin, and they scare the children. Besides, the maester has plenty more leeches if you so desire.”
“Those were my leeches. Do you know how many years it has taken me to breed specific strains of them? What do you expect me to do when I have bad blood?”
“No blood is bad. Men die when they lose too much blood, so why would you want to lose even a little?”
“You are not a maester.”
“No, but I found you something even better than leeches to calm you down when you get angry.”
“Oh?” questioned Roose. He did not have time for this, he really didn’t. His head was pounding, and he felt ready to strangle someone with one of those pink cloaks Walda had made. My leeches…
Walda reached under her chair and produced a wolf pup. At closer inspection, this looked like a direwolf pup. Gods, what did I do to deserve this?
“Lady Stark’s direwolf recently whelped a litter of pups, and she felt that we might like one. They can be a very calming influence.”
The little direwolf leapt from Walda’s lap and ran to Roose’s feet. Roose had a strong urge to kick the thing, but when the wolf gave a delighted bark and he looked at his wife’s happy face, he sighed. There are worse things in life than having to live among wolves, I suppose.
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timeasmymeasure
FILL: Leeches for Wolves, Roose/Walda crack
Date: 2012-03-11 09:33 pm (UTC)“Walda!” roared Roose, as he stormed through the Dreadfort, making his way towards his wife’s chambers. This was his castle, and no one, not even his lady, had a right to meddle in certain things.
He found Walda calmly sewing by a window. From the sheer amount of pink cloth in her hands, he wagered that she was making him another cloak. If she kept making them at this rate, they would have enough to outfit a small army.
“Yes, my Lord?” she replied calmly.
“You burned my leeches.”
“Oh, those terrible things. They leave such ugly marks on your skin, and they scare the children. Besides, the maester has plenty more leeches if you so desire.”
“Those were my leeches. Do you know how many years it has taken me to breed specific strains of them? What do you expect me to do when I have bad blood?”
“No blood is bad. Men die when they lose too much blood, so why would you want to lose even a little?”
“You are not a maester.”
“No, but I found you something even better than leeches to calm you down when you get angry.”
“Oh?” questioned Roose. He did not have time for this, he really didn’t. His head was pounding, and he felt ready to strangle someone with one of those pink cloaks Walda had made. My leeches…
Walda reached under her chair and produced a wolf pup. At closer inspection, this looked like a direwolf pup. Gods, what did I do to deserve this?
“Lady Stark’s direwolf recently whelped a litter of pups, and she felt that we might like one. They can be a very calming influence.”
The little direwolf leapt from Walda’s lap and ran to Roose’s feet. Roose had a strong urge to kick the thing, but when the wolf gave a delighted bark and he looked at his wife’s happy face, he sighed. There are worse things in life than having to live among wolves, I suppose.