Her entire body shudders as fingertips hesitantly run down the curve of her back. She doesn’t know how to tell him that she’s no longer the delicate flower that left the walls of Winterfell all those years ago. Afraid to break the illusion, she instead chooses not to speak at all.
When she returned home, she was alive and unbroken. However, she is muted. She is wary. She is reserved in ways that before the war, he would never have imagined she could be.
And he – he is Robb Stark, King of the North outside these walls and she the sister his bannermen bow to, hold the highest regard for. The lone wolf who endured the lions. Outside these walls, they will embody the strength and unforgiving cold of ice, of winter. They will encompass all that it means to be Stark and to be wolf.
Lips skim the side of her neck and Sansa sighs.
Within the stone walls of this room, names and titles and the right and wrongs fall away. Within these walls she is his and he is hers. Wholly and without reservation.
Within these walls, time suspends. As they catch glimpses of the people they had been before the war and limbs intertwine, their hearts breathe freely again.
They smile as they once had, before the wretched wall.
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barofcara: Her entire body shudders as fingertips hesitantly run down the curve of her back. She...
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