stxrfclls​:

she’d intended to only watch for a moment, fascinated and elated the rumor to have been truthful. a bear, a real bear. the princess was entranced, though, even in anger the creature causing her to gain more and more interest. only do the words of his company break her trance, eyes moving to watch as his sword slowly returns to its sheath. “perhaps, but i’m afraid i wouldn’t know if they are poisonous or not.” and she’d feel horrible if she gave such a thing to the bear. zara moves closer, stopping near feng since there is no longer a point in staying away. she’d not truly been trying to avoid being caught anyway, finding no threat in the mormont noticing her. “i heard rumor of a bear, everyone told me i was foolish for believing in it.” and now she can return and tell her uncle he was the foolish one. “does he have a name?”

⸻

‘    I know only of blackberries,     but I’m unsure if they grow here.    ‘    He glances to the side to study her,   a nod of agreement as he scans the area around them for any familiar bushes.    Smile growing wide upon his mouth at her words,     ‘   So you do indeed have faith in House Mormont.    I’ll be sure to remember that next time someone questions me about bear gossip.   I’ll tell them to go straight to you.  ‘    A tease placed out in a playful tone,    soft and smooth as opposed to his usual stoic nature.   The splashes in the river draws his attention back to the animal,    bubbles created by his snout as Fang becomes more distracted by the water than the fish underneath the surface.   ‘   Fang.    I know,   he looks terrifying right now.    Entirely monstrous.    The name certainly suits him here,  at least.   ‘

stxrfclls​:

“and it shall remain that way so long as i have control of it.” he promised his children, unaware of the world perhaps more than they ought to be. his eyes take in the other, ah, the elusive mormont sibling. rumored assassin, and cedrick is inclined to believe it. he’s often right of such things, a cockiness that goes unchecked. “i agree, please call me cedrick.” he grasps the offered hand firmly, shaking it before releasing and turning back to his children. “catlyn has yet to meet you, yes?” he knew the answer, but cedrick liked to ask questions so he could learn the reaction rather than the answer more often than not. “she’ll likely tire first, the others aren’t as quick to slow for her.” something he’s chided on his children many times, the only thing stopping them from punishment being that he doubted it to be intentional.

⸻

A brief study of the other man,    expression lapsed in any emotion only for the time being.    Feng had been raised half on Bear Island and half in the colourful,    but deadly world of Tyrosh.    Paranoia and cynicism were tools to help one survive.    There was no bitterness in this hesitation,    but a simple routine as he breaks the gaze and pulls his attention back to the children playing.  ‘     An honourable promise.  ‘   Is all that’s said of that bold comment,    a nod of his head as though to solidify his mild admiration.   Children are to be children,   but the winter grows closer.    It always arrives,    just as the Starks predict it.    ‘  No hurry.    I’m content enough just to see her face.    I’m a stranger to her,   after all.    ‘   

stxrfclls​:

zara has been raised in a world to expect the worst of most people while remaining herself quiet and docile. the picture of innocence, a false narrative if she’s ever heard one. many think her to be unthreatening, demure and genteel. she’s actively encouraged this, yet somehow the side of her that truly lives is boiling right beneath the surface of her skin. calling to be noticed by a man she’s only just met. it’s foreign, odd, and out of place. she fights it just so, retaining her practiced mask as best she can. “i’ve been taught many things in the desires of others and titles.” forgotten friends only eager to befriend a crown, past almost lovers who were done away with in secret, and even those who had only gotten close to her to seek the hand of her brother. zara had been through it all, which gained a healthy wall around her inner self. she finds herself glancing back to him in his honesty, wishing to see the expression that matched it. pain? perhaps laying beneath the surface of his own skin. “ruling lords, aye, any others are free to roam as they please until they take a wife, i hear.” something she was envious of as the same did not seem to apply for the women of their time. the desire to see all of westeros, even the world, was something zara was sure she’d die with if her betrothal had any say in the matter. and once they married, he would have just that. “i am not avoiding a crowd, i simply find more interest in this conversation than yet another drunken lord taking far too many liberties.” she wasn’t even armed, but zara had pushed into a few choice pressure points and left a few of said lords passed out in their seats as if they’d only indulged a bit too much. in ale, but the truth was they’d thought to indulge in she.

⸻

One would be impressed with how quickly he had learned to contain himself.      To open the lid only an inch,       and only during the hours between afternoon and early evening.       He will not speak like a son anymore,      as the child is dead in him    -     has been since long ago.     He thinks this is best.      He thinks there is a larger world out there that’s made for sons who carry the weight of a father along their back like a boulder.       Feng observes the princess with a quiet reverence,    she seemed to possess a divinity that stretched far beyond the physical,     and he felt that this hall was too small for the two of them.     A self-awareness that became suffocating,    a tightening in his chest and his throat.    For someone who relishes in having a pragmatic perception of the world and its people,    he seemed he couldn’t quite settle on having her fit in one category.    She was without definition.    Fickle and firm all the same.   ‘    Again,    I’ve no doubts.     And what are your desires?     Respectfully speaking.     ‘  A brief stall,    tongue dry and heavy as he tries to assure that there’s no disrespectful meaning in the question.   While one does wonder exactly what she wants out of life,    and perhaps in love,    he also needs to remind himself that there’s no future in this flirtation.    He had chosen a path that meant feral lessons in life,    regardless of the woman who ends up owning his heart.    Blood and suffering,   what use is that to this tempest of a woman?    Poised and profoundly sedated by philosophical questions and vague answers to her own curiosities.    ‘    Funny that.      Loneliness is freedom to some,   and marriage is freedom to others.     I don’t think I’m meant for either.     ‘    An admittance followed by a low chuckle,    amusement from his own accepted demise.     A brow raised with intrigue,    boldness of his next response is accompanied by a coquettish gaze.  ‘    Am I not taking some liberties myself?    Sober,   too.    Some would say that’s worse.    ‘

You are full of want and marrow. The moon is new and new this desire to be your heaviest self.

Donika Kelly, excerpt of “Love Poem: Werewolf”, in Bestiary: Poems 

wintrwild​:

          “ oh, i don’t believe that for a moment — what do you know about what is and isn’t fit for a young lady, anyhow ? ” they insist, all lighthearted jest. but wrapped tight within her laughter is a sharp edge of truth, cutting both ways: what do either of them know of each other ? nothing, really, just the memories of childhood, distorted by time, as if seen through mottled glass. perhaps that is why they’re so hungry for information, listening with all their attention for whatever small bits of knowledge might fill in the fifteen-year void that seems to trail after him, like an afterimage burnt into eyes, the overwhelming presence of a great absence. as he tells them of his time in essos, a thousand questions arise, and they wish they had a bit of paper to write them all down before one overtakes the other. assassins and lost eyes and bear cubs, and that’s only what he chooses to tell her — there’s more, she knows, that he’s withholding. “ an retired assassin with only one eye ? must’ve been very good at his job, that’s not the sort of thing you usually survive, ” they muse. but it’s that last bit about the gods that settles within them, softens their heart. they’d spent countless hours in the godswood on bear island, knelt before the heart tree, praying for his safe return, losing a little bit of hope each time — but the gods had listened, they must have, and he had listened to the gods. “ really ? ” they question, rather incredulous. “ you mean, a gift beyond your miraculous return, and my extraordinary luck in finding you ? i don’t think i’ve ever had so much good fortune in a single day. what sort of gift — is here the best place ? ” not that she doubts for a moment that, between the two of them, they can handle a pickpocket or two, but the streets of king’s landing are always treacherous, and rather more so these days.

⸻

This story is not about liars and thieves,     but it certainly touches on another group of sin.     Non-human, abnormal, abysmal.     The assassin had awoken,    not necessarily out of greed nor malicious intent,     but nonetheless there was a fire.     Fire was a hungry thing too and didn’t care much about the walls it burnt down.     It ate and ate and still the belly was empty,      still the stomach gurgled and fumed.     All this from the root of his impulse,      all this from the soil he was born from.     A blackened mound of rotted fate.      Self-destruction breeds temptation.     Feng looms towards a desolation that other wolves run from.      He allows aggression and fear to rule over him,      the only king in his body is a dead one.      It’s silent inside,      like at the bottom of a well someone had long since forgotten to check on.     No rain too,      a drought that dries up all mud around him and offers little reprieve.     This is not to say he doesn’t feel love,    for he feels love especially for his sister.   The warmth around them only grows larger each moment,   an urge to protect and to nurture.   ‘   Well,    for starters I know proper dining etiquette around young ladies.  Or any lady.  I’m no savage.    ‘   A glance to the side,    brows raised in subtle bemusement,   but there’s no bother with digging deeper into the pit of absence they both have experienced.    ‘   Aye,    he was one of the best.     One of these days,    dear sister,   I’ll be without  an eye as well.    Or an ear.    An arm maybe.   ‘   Meant to be humorous,    but the truth was wielded in those words with a careful dedication.    He knew there’d be a bloody end,    a downfall not covered in gold and glory,   but burnt skin and swamplands eating at his body.    A death fit for an assassin.    A laugh,    bright and cheery,    his youthfulness trapped in a single sound.  ‘   You know I’m too stubborn for my own good.    I would have seen you again,    even beyond the grave.    Don’t think I ever forgot about you.    Your first gift will be safe.    ‘   Fingers reach inside one of his coat’s front pockets,    pulling out a small wooden carving of a bear holding a long sword.    The details were miniscule and shaped out with great care.   The smell of beechwood and salt following it.    He offers it to them,   eyes watching with a hopeful glint.    ‘   I carried that around for years.    I got it my first summer in Tyrosh.   Naive enough to believe I was prepared to come home to you all already.   ‘ 

crwyn​:

The Mormont’s understandably frantic pace slowed as he neared Theon and the fisherman. Theon’s smile left his face, for the most part, but some of it took refuge in his eyes and betrayed his attempt at a sterner countenance. “What a shame. That would be a point in your house’s favour. It is indeed your bear, then? It gladdens me to know the rumours are true.” He stood, watching the bear in silence for a few beats, before he turned to the fisherman. “Well, no matter. We shall survive this. It is only one bear.” Theon turned to Feng. “Provided you can make him stop eating all our fish, of course. It is a him, is it not?”

⸻

It wasn’t a frantic pace that had urged him to quickly resolve the issue,     it was merely the knowledge that a bear,    semi-domestic or not,    could wreak havoc similar to that of a small hurricane.    Destruction of property,    food,    a person if posed as an aggressive threat.   Fang was not an exception to being an impulsive instigator,    and this is what brings Feng to begin his walk towards the shoreline.    A glance over his shoulder at the Greyjoy king,    a politically neutral smile in place,   yet the tension in his shoulders will not yet be smoothed out until his bear is somewhat in better territory.     A nod at the question posed,    before focus returns to the furry animal digging through fishing lines.   ‘    I rescued him when he was only a cub.   Wasn’t expecting much of an attachment,   but he’s been loyal enough.   ‘   His boots sink in the damp sand,    the rocks slippery and wet with the occasional washing up in the tide.    A whistle comes from between his teeth,   the bear’s ears perking and his body jerks out of the shallows,    galloping onto the sand and shaking the water from his fur.     A pointed finger at his bear with a firm voice,  ‘    Is this what happens when you’re out of my sight!?   ‘  A pouch of a few silver coins pulled from one of his coat’s front pockets,    arm outstretched to offer to the other.   ‘   Will this be enough to cover the damages?  ‘

ichorbuilt​:

@nothrones​     /     feng  mormont  .

          roslyn  grafton  is  an  inherently  curious  individual,  and  a  painfully  nosy  one  at  the  best  of  times.  all  to  her  mother’s  chagrin,  of  course,  when  she  all  but  threw  propriety  out  the  window  when  approaching  the  other  nobles  of  westeros,  but  sometimes  the  need  to  satisfy  her  questions  outweighed  the  obvious  expectation.  even  if  that  involved  treks  towards  the  training  grounds  that  she  had  no  other  reason  to  be  at.     ❝  lord  mormont,  isn’t  it  ?  of  bear  island  ?  ❞     she  hardly  pauses  to  allow  him  to  answer,  rocking  back  on  her  heels  with  a  slight  smile  as  if  excited  by  the  prospect  of  her  next  words.     ❝  is  it  filled  with  bears,  truly  ?  are  the  rumors  that  you  have  a  bear,  true  ?  ❞ 

⸻

The attention he’s been receiving for his bear seemed to double back and bite him on his heels.    He shrinks in the spotlight,    refuses the sunlight and prefers the cool shade of bleak weather.   A turn towards the woman,    expression listless and yet adapts to the neutral charm a lord requires.  ‘  Aye,   although I could do without the title.     Feng is fine,    my lady.    ‘  A shift in his stance,    his training halted for the conversation.    Chest heaves and sways with his breath,    lungs burning at the intensity of the practice.     A nod,    half-intrigued at giving the other more information,   yet his profession’s desire for discretion wars with him.   ‘   The bears rule that island.    Can’t take one step forward without running into a giant one.   ‘   His voice holds the captivating talent of storytelling,    yet is ultimately amused in tone now,    only vague when needed.   ‘    I’ve forgotten how imaginative some gossip is here.    Almost everyone I met in Tyrosh had a strange creature they called their pet.    Some had tigers,    others had ostriches.     The bird terrified me the most,   I admit.   ‘  

conqueredcrowns​:

she keeps a steady, yet reasonable distance between them. if what she has heard is true, the last thing saga wishes is to be caught off guard from the man. “i know quite well what they say about rumors.” plenty had flown through the capital about her family since their arrival of course, it was simply the ability to pick the truth from amongst the lies. “but i don’t believe i am. those who have taken life have a way of moving — of holding themselves.” that, and it had taken her quite some time to find the man because he’d been so damned quiet on his feet. “you needn’t worry — i don’t believe many have figured it out as of yet. i just like people who are of such skills. makes one listen closer to such rumors.” brow quirking at his final comment; a bear he’s lost — the words are nearly enough to distract her entirely ( for few would dare keep such a beast as a pet ). “and such creatures — do you keep it, or does it keep you?” 

⸻

The woods itself has grown quiet,    as if listening to the very steps he takes.   The soil surrendering underneath his weight,    the dead leaves crunching under his foot.     It’s dangerous to feel so unstoppable in nature,    for the earth has many lessons to give   -    all of them able to swallow up any man.    King or nameless.       Feng doesn’t necessarily approve of the boldness this woman is taking at meeting up with a so-called master assassin,    but he doesn’t voice it.    Keeps the observation to himself as he walks,   head angled towards her only briefly to answer.    ‘      So you can tell when a man has killed or not?     Quite a gift,    my lady.    Wasted out here in the wilderness.    ‘    Murmured with a steady tone,   mouth in a straight line,    not budging to allow any room for amusement.    Death was no parlour trick.     He plays with destiny each day,    each target.    He’d rather not ponder too long on what his own end would look like.    The scent of pine and wet fur,    he knew Fang would be close.    He turns his back fully on the other,     not assessing her to be much of a threat at this point in time.  ‘    You should go back to your walled kingdom,    this bear I track is a beast.    A bit better at socializing than I am,   however.     That’s an advantage for him at times,    but mostly it just makes him an easy target.    ‘  

conqueredcrowns​:

hues flickered up to him at the question, searching for several long seconds as if she might find an answer hidden within his gaze. “i cannot say,” she finally determines, “and while that ought to worry me, i believe i am more intrigued as to where i would be led. a dangerous mindset perhaps but what is life without a bit of risk?” the offer is one she’s been given by several before, and alerie knows quite well it’s one she ought to take up. “i cannot say i would be a grand student. if i treat such lessons anything like those i did when i was in my youth, we may end up halfway through the city before you recall we are meant to be having said lessons to begin with.” there is little hesitation when the arm is offered ( wrapping herself around the appendage and offer the briefest call of goodbye to the stall owner over her shoulder as they begin to move away ). “she would like you, i think. knowing her well without meeting her,” she chuckled. “though i cannot say that puts you anywhere safe. desmera would be all the more likely to try wrapping you about her finger like some challenge.” 

⸻

Perhaps he could have been softer,     less likely to dig into organs and tear apart whatever made humans so susceptible to compassion.       It’s not like he’s a stranger to attachment,      nor the occasional dedication to loyalty.      It just seemed crooked in nature.      Poisoned as though the soil of the very emotions he had once nurtured had become soured and decrepit.      Brotherhood now as a sense of alliance.     His surname isn’t forgotten about and at times he strengthens it    -    thinks of how a true Sunderland is only bred for hunger and suffering.     He’d like to have a chance at becoming whole and less of a creature,     but that’d be a lie.     While his young siblings will sometimes long for something as fickle as true love,      Ivar was more than happy to oblige monster-hood.    Or so he thinks.    As the sunlight seems to warm Alerie’s smile,    he is drawn to the fragility of her just as deeply as he’s drawn to the viciousness of her.     Or at least the potential of the sharp tongued words.    A hum of appreciation,     genuinely placed in between them with a purposeful gaze.    ‘   You are a curious woman,    you want thrilling adventures just as much as I do.    You understand life is nothing if there’s no ambition,    no drive.    I like that.   ‘  An honest admittance,   although it’s said in a low voice,   as though he were already courting her in broad daylight without any permission stated.    He walks slowly now,   his limp only half-noticeable as he focuses on the small arm wrapped around his.  ‘    There’s a fighter in you,    Alerie.   Besides,    I will even let you try your hand at harming me.    I don’t know anyone who would pass that opportunity up.   ‘   A grin,    playfully mischievous.      Palm shifting to light rest on her arm before promptly removing itself.    ‘   Ah,    she sounds as clever as her mother.    She’ll go far in this world,   I think.   ‘

stxrfclls​:

closed for your pick ! ( @nothrones​​​​​​​ )

“i don’t wish to intrude,” begins the clansmen doing exactly that. “but have you seen a feisty blonde pass through here?” he’d managed to piss of dreva when telling her she shouldn’t burn the dress she’d been forced to wear at the weddings in the courtyard. she was at an age where adoring your father also quickly reverted to despising him, it seemed. the best part? it wasn’t often tharon being the parent with reason.

⸻

A moment of silence before a strained exhale follows,     not quite out of frustration,    but there’s certainly an expression of shrewd curiosity on Ivar’s face.     A hand is held up to signal to his trainees to aim their bows down.     Archery practice paused for the time being.    Eyes directing themselves towards the man in particular,    and a jerk of a loose-fitting smile forming upon his mouth,   although it doesn’t quite spark authentic warmth.  ‘   I’ve no recollection of blondes running out in front of my archers.     Feisty or otherwise.     I’ve a suggestion for you!      Try a quick run down to the river and back,   see if my archers are able to memorize the colour of your hair before they loose their arrows.    All in good fun,    as you didn’t mean to intrude.   ‘ 

stxrfclls​:

she radiates a confidence, a cloud of mystery surrounding her at every step. it causes lysander to try and get even more of a read off of the other even if it seems to be difficult. he’s fascinated, and that does not happen often. lysander is not sure where it will lead, but he supposes her responses will be a proper guide for that. he nods gently when she agrees to use his name, no other reply is needed. “you seem to have quite a lot said about you as well.” he’d heard many drunkards talk about the other at the wedding, but the lord baratheon never did put much stock into things coming from the lips of a drunk. it’s why they are here, so he can suss out whether or not there was any truth to the rumors. lysander didn’t reach out to strangers unless it was self serving. so he tilts his head as he looks upon the other, head processing just how he’d ask his questions even if he’d been thinking about it all day. “i enjoy living life as i choose, but certain changes have been made that i’m not sure how to change.” the betrothal, one he had promised not to hurt her in attempting to end but had not promised to stop trying to foil it. “i’ve been betrothed, and i’d like to know if it is worth while to see through or attempt to end. trivial, yes, but i’m too old to continue this game of dodging betrothals like a youthful mess.”

⸻

Like any restless woman,       Aranya wonders if girlhood was stripped from her,       or if she had offered it up on a silver platter.      Half-eaten and raw,       with black-flies buzzing all around it as though it was no fresh kill.        There is always something to scavenge from her bones,       always some redness of meat dangling off of her that has yet to be inside a mouth or buried until it’s rotten to the core.      A Baratheon has that appetite for destruction,        a sense of potential for ruination and apocalyptic endings.       She is always expecting something just as slippery to come crawling from between royalty’s lips,      something malicious just like she has inside of her.       Something entirely made for fear and greed.     A blink at the comment,     the observation sliding off her surface as though it were melted upon impact.     A gentle nod,    smile flickering along her mouth with the talent of a sorceress luring the sun.    ‘    People speak on things they don’t understand,    it’s only natural.   ‘   A croon,   voice light and soothing,    as if she were speaking to a rabid animal.    Perhaps she is.    She listens quite carefully,     chews on his words and explanations with a poised lift of her chin.    ‘   A man who has many options,    and yet desires to only give his energy to the honest one.    Seems only fair.   ‘   A muse she shares aloud,    velvet bag of bone dice is gathered from her small bag beside her,    dress swaying as she loosens the knotted rope.    ‘    Of course,     the answer you seek may be cloudy.   There is the proper woman for your political gain and the proper woman for your heart’s gain.    Perhaps they are the same,    perhaps not.    Which do you want the most?   True love or ultimate power?   I ask this out of my own curiosity.  ‘ 

stxrfclls​:

closed for your aranya ( @nothrones​​​​​​​​​​ )

“i heard there was a prophet in attendance at the ceremonies last night.” begins the prince as he slides to sit across from the lady. rumors he didn’t quite believe, but oberyn still wished to meet the other. “tell me, were the festivities so boring you resorted to creating your own entertainment?” he wouldn’t be completely offended if the answer was yes, though a part of the prince’s pride would suffer.

⸻

‘    Is that what you believe prophecies are?     Entertaining?    ‘    A small smile,    tight-lipped and poised,    but her gaze settles on him.     Burning and curious,    strands of black hair dancing in the breeze.   The question is murmured out only to catch him off-guard,   but there is a genuine wonderment to her expression.    An index finger trails along the edge of her sleeve,    the silk loose and weightless with the sunlight beaming on her.    ‘   I enjoyed the festivities greatly.    The food as well.    Although,    I know better than to imagine you’re seeking my praise.   ‘

conqueredcrowns​:

the idea of it makes him scoff and the filter he’s taught himself to have in the presence of nobility seems none existent when he responds, “what good would glory do me?” ( he blames it on where they are — its domain that is by right his, at least for now. why should he need to put on the mask? ). “i have enjoyed building a name for myself, proving my father wrong about bastards — but i have no interest in swimming in the luxury of nobility. what good would jewels do me when i am dead? i’ve done what i can to ensure whatever future i build for myself and my children will be a comfortable one.” they would not want for anything — their basic needs would be seen too and occasionally there could be gifts ( within reason ) to add some variety to their lives. “it isn’t my place to say, is it? some people desire the knowledge to protect themselves. others do not — it is a decision they can make on their own. as is their right. and for those who determine they do not wish it, well… i will be there to raise my sword in their behalf.” it had kept him employed long enough at least. dark orbs flickered down to examine her as she leaned closer ( and the knowledge ought to have worried him but he did not suspect she was there to bring him harm — and if she were, so be it ). “daggers tend to be personal. it means you will watch the life leave the eyes of your opponent.”

⸻

Aranya could be a prophetess here in her own kingdom.      The crown of spruce kindling and rose hips sitting gracefully upon her head.      God in her own right.       Spoiled fruit,      but still just as sweet,     only bruised from the sunlight and rich rainfalls.       It wasn’t a mistake,      she thinks,      as she slowly becomes something that has the potential of cruelty and insanity.        A madness that swells and pulses in her womb,       like an infant grown quiet and without gestation.       This is what creation feels like:     the sharpness of terror as it slides down her throat at night,        the ghost of the father that stares at her from beneath naked branches,       and the moss underneath her shoes and she slowly sinks into the ground.    Perhaps this warrior in front of her has felt the small teeth of existence grate at him as well.   He holds a logical perception of the world.    He knows that glory buries the soldier with an ugly end,    gory and inhumanely,    no matter how many songs are sung in the hero’s departure.    The smile appears thoughtlessly upon her lips,    as though she were only half-listening.    ‘    Glory is what takes cowards away from their safe paths of a mundane life.    Some fight in wars only for their selfish desires to become worshiped.     You are not self-involved like others.    This interests me.    ‘   A shoulder of hers lifts in a slight shrug while gaze continues to study him,     an expression of mild eagerness showing at his answer.  ‘    Are you a man of honour,     then?    Or righteousness?   ‘   Now she offers a breathless giggle,    palm covering the widening of her mouth with a lazy carelessness.     ‘    Sounds very frightening!    I promise I only use them to protect myself,   nothing more.     No need to be fearful of me,    sweet warrior.     Do you use daggers?    Or do you prefer long swords and heavy punches,    hm?    ‘   

crwyn​:

He had followed the fisherman to the docks. For the entirety of the short journey, Theon had wondered if he was about to catch the man in a lie, for there were, as far as Theon knew, rarely bears in King’s Landing. Then again, perhaps it had escaped from some travelling circus. He’d heard tell of such things.

They had arrived, and Theon had been unable to keep the grin from his face. Certainly, they would lose a few fish over this – more than a few – but it seemed worth it just for the sight of the bear chewing at what appeared to be a salmon, and the fisherman’s look of pure terror. “No harm done,” Theon said, clapping the fisherman on the back. “Go find one of the Mormonts.” @nothrones​

⸻

For such a large animal,    Fang had often weaseled his way out in precarious situations.    Even as a cub the grizzly would often allow his curiosity to lure him in traps and snares,    and Feng had always rushed in to save the little beast.    Now,   as a fully grown male bear,   there were times that he had come to the rescue of Feng.     Even so,   there were times of mischief and trickery,    like that of a playful wildling child.     The wet grass clung to his boots as he ran,     eyes trained on the docks,    and his bear having a hearty feast in one of the fishing nets set up near the shoreline.      He slows his pace at the approach of the Greyjoy king,    the fisherman who had been leading him on the path leaves the two of them alone.     A shake of his head,    palm brushing through his hair out of a calming habit.    ‘    Apologies to the king,   of course.     And to your fishermen.    He’s no official representation of my house,   I assure you.    ‘