"𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓'𝑠 𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑," their father always called it. Could make a man or woman wild in a sense, unpredictable, and powerful. And when a violet-eyed twin born to the Lord Eddard Stark, all knew that the boy would have it. And he did.
Beside his...
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『𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒕𝒐𝒏 299 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕』
The King in the North's traitor stood over where he had killed said king, the bottoms of his boots stained red from the blood still being cleaned up on the floor. Next to the blood was the salt and bread that he and the King in the North ate to secure Guest Rights, only those rights worked out for him in the end.
""The Late Walder Frey," old Tully called me because I didn't get my men to the Trident in time for battle."
Walder Frey chuckled as he ate at the High Table from which he sat just the night before, not moving an inch or giving an inch of effort in what occurred.
"He thought he was witty. Ha! Look at us now, Tully! Your daughter's dead, your grandson's dead, your son spent his wedding night in a dungeon and now I'm the Lord of Riverrun!"
He cackled, but Roose Bolton didn't even give a smile, even though from the position he now stood in, the position he has now secured his family's name, he should have been almost joyful. But neither joy nor smiles were his thing. And besides, not all of the Starks were dead.
"The Blackfish escaped."
He said, but Lord Walder Frey on chuckled, shaking his head as he took another bite from his meat pie.
"An old man on the run with no allies is an old man who won't stay running long, nor stay alive neither. I have Tywin Lannister backing me, who does he have?"
"Not all the Starks are dead."
The Bolton spoke, his voice level and calm as it always was, a certain chill to his words, however, hung over them like a dark cloud.
"Ha. Benget Stark.."
Lord Walder sneared with a smirk.
"Boy marches here from the Wall asking me if his idiot brother marched across my crossing to war, fights in one battle and dissappears to not be heard from again."
"That doesn't mean he's not out there still. He and his twin both."
He spoke with weariness in his voice, his eyes dragging from the Lord Frey to the crimson stain on the floor, both of their eyes settling on the spot.
