a hound and his horse

robb stark: can’t help falling in love

ANON REQUESTED: Hiiiii!!! I was wondering if you could do a robb stark imagine where the reader is cersei’s daughter and Jaime is very protective of her and they go riding in the woods when at Winterfell and Jaime and the reader get separated and she is attacked and Robb saves her and cersei yells at Jaime for letting her daughter fall in love with Robb and not saving her

note: im warning yall this is kinda long like 1.5k words long of dialogue bc i got carried away af but anyway i hope u like it (◡‿◡✿)

When you arrived in Winterfell, you immediately smiled at the coldness and all the open space there is. The people were welcoming and they treated you amazing. You walked through Winterfell, through the towers and through the yard.

“Don’t go far,” your mother Cersei said as she tighten the fur around her. She wasn’t really fond of Winterfell and she made that clear. “You don’t know what lurks in this cold place.”

You went back to the plaza and you saw your Uncle mounted and clad in thin armor. He was with his men, and is also with some Stark men. You patted your Uncle’s horse and Jaime just shook his head.

“Going off, Uncle?” you ask as you looked at the hounds and horses.

“Hunting, riding,” he said as he adjusted himself on his horse. “Making the most of the North.”

The horse nuzzled into your palm, and you scratch its head. You flashed a smile to his company and you grinned at your Uncle but he shook his head again at you.

“Uncle Jaime, please!” You really wanted to do something, and riding maybe is the most exciting thing there is.

“Your mother, the Queen,” he said as he emphasized Cersei, “Will get angry, you know how she is.”

“I promise! I’ll be close to you,” you begged him, and the men are smiling at you.

“The woods aren’t meant for a lady,” Theon said as his horse rounded up his party. “Or even a princess.”

You sighed and you looked at the stables, and you saw a stable boy watching the exchanged. You waited for him to acknowledge you, and when he did he bowed and you smiled. “Bring me a horse, ser.”

“Won’t the Queen be furious?” Robb asked your Uncle Jaime and he looked at you.

“My mother, the Queen will be furious, yes.” You said as the boy appeared next to you with a strong horse, and he helped you mount it. “I want to ride and not be stuck in this castle for the week, my lord.”

“Ride close to me,” Jaime said as his horse moved closer to yours, “If you get lost, like back home…”

You laughed at your Uncle and you looked at the amused Northmen, “King’s Landing is huge and crowded. But Uncle, I will not be lost.”

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Robb x Mormont!Reader Pt. 2

((Anon, I hope you like it. I did my best to add everything you wanted))

((Continuation of http://letsasoiaftogether.tumblr.com/post/147057411569/imaginerobbie ))

Word Count: 1,886

Warning: none

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Moonie Ch. 3

Hello, lovelies! I’ve posted this on my blog, but I thought I’d put it here in case my post got lost in the ether. This community is so fun and inviting. I hope you all enjoy!

Click here for Chapter One!

Click here for Chapter Two!

It isn’t hard to get lost in the Elsewhere University Library.

One minute, you’re looking for a window seat on the second floor. The next, you discovered a staircase you hadn’t noticed before, and find yourself in a maze of unfamiliar offices and bookshelves that aren’t organized in any particular way. It’s just something about the library. The layout makes no practical sense. If you don’t stick to the well-tread paths, you wind up finding a table with a wobbly leg squeezed inside a tight maze of bookshelves.

That’s where the Librarian had sent me.

The shelves of the northwest corner on the third floor were packed so close together, I had to take my backpack off so that I could slip between them. Books filled every inch of space, forming solid walls of written knowledge. It was as if I were entering some fortress of learning, or the Temple of Doom. I began to wonder why the Librarian had recommended a spot so secluded. Were my scattered thoughts so apparent?

As I slid through the narrow opening between the shelves, my nose passed inches away from a row of books. I squinted at the unusual titles. The Thirteen Principles of Wish-making, Faire Folke and Luminous Beings, Metallurgy for Auracular Protections, Wylde Gentrye… Some of the titles weren’t even in English. Some weren’t even in any recognizable form of language. Strange symbols whirled across their antique covers. I blinked and pushed my glasses back up to the bridge of my nose. The whirling stopped.

When I set my bag down on the nondescript-green painted table, it rocked to the side, threatening to topple over. I scowled in frustration. Stupid table. Stupid library that makes no sense. Stupid librarian telling me to sit at the shitty table. I hefted my books from my bag and spread them out across the surface.

About fifteen minutes into my Calculus homework, thick raindrops pattered against the window behind me. Absently, I checked the weather app on my phone. Sunshine all week, yeah, right.

Another hour later, I was bathed in golden light as the sunset poured through the window. At least, I thought it was an hour. It couldn’t have been much more than that as I was still slaving away over my Calculus questions. They day was flying away from me. As the moon peeked out over the tops of the buildings to visit my hidden corner, my head began to feel heavy. I blinked the sleep from my eyes. Blurry numbers smeared across the pages of my notebook. I gave myself a light slap.

Leaning back, I stared at the walls of books around me. Had the Librarian sent me to the Children’s Books section? Thin, brightly colored tomes lined the shelves. I pulled myself out of my seat and strode around the table. I reached out my hand and slid a book from the stacks at random. The Good Neighbours. I fanned the thick parchment-like pages through my fingers, stopping just to examine the pictures. A tall man with horns and hooved feet carried a girl away into the woods. Men and women wore heavy rings on their fingers and on chains around their necks. Milk and bread left on plates outside of doorways. A man ran screaming from white creatures on black horses, their hounds snapped at his heels with jaws like bear-traps. It was all so horrifically familiar. My hands quivered, but I could not stop turning the pages.

It all began to make sense, in a fantasy sort of way. Fairies. Goddamn fairies were stalking the edges of the university. Whoever had taken Jenny from Lot C was not a Someone, but a Something. Frigid sweat beaded on the back of my neck at the thought of the boy with the jagged, broken smile. I wasn’t paranoid. I had been right all along.

I spent the night skimming through pamphlets and old books. I took pages of notes. There were spaces between things, where time and dimension could Fold over on itself. Things that came through these Folds were glamouredto the human eye. There were ways you could see them. You didn’t want to see them. Protection, protection, protection.

It was dangerous to make deals with the Fair Folk. They could take things you didn’t know you could give, important things. Their gifts were impossible, beautiful, and terrifying. Those who managed to make a deal were forever changed.

When I squeezed through the gap in the bookshelves and returned to my dorm room, I had somehow missed the entire weekend and was running late for Chemistry 101. My greasy hair stuck up in all directions. Dark circles sagged under my eyes.

The Librarian smiled and waved at me as I jogged out into the morning mist. “Hope you found what you were looking for!” Her thin voice rang in my ears.

For the next four days, I was possessed by an unholy desire to Know. I searched for a Fold with single-minded clarity. If I could speak to one, I could find Jenny.

The nightmares got worse. The blaring of horns and yowling dogs got louder.

Last night I woke in the small hours of morning, drenched in salty sweat, and Something was sitting on my chest. It was the size of cat, but much heavier. The space it occupied was an inconceivable black mass in the darkness. The blurry, pale glow of my laptop screen was lost in its depths. A tiny black hole rested on my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached for my glasses. My fingers pawed blindly at the table until they rested on the round plastic shape of my glasses. I stuffed them onto my face.

The Thing had gone. The weight, heavy and warm, remained. I gasped for air. Panic clutched at my lungs and stomach. I grasped my chest and felt something in my hands. It was a rock the size of a baseball. A dark brown coating of rust clung to its surface. No, it wasn’t rust. As I flaked a piece off with my fingernail I stifled a scream. 

The rock was coated with dried blood.


Worlds on Fire

Part One

Summary: An alternate timeline - what if Sansa Stark had chosen to go with Sandor Clegane the night of the Battle of the Blackwater? How would this one decision have affected the fate of Westeros? How would it have affected Sansa and Sandor themselves?

Part Two: Here
Part Three: Here
Part Four: Here

Word Count: 1176
Pairing: SansaxSandor (VERY slow burn)
Warnings: Violence, blood, language
A/N: I’m so excited to share my first venture into fanfics with y’all! This interpretation is faithful to the story as told in A Song of Ice and Fire. The first excerpt in italics from “A Clash of Kings” is the point of departure. This has turned into quite the saga already, so be on the lookout for future parts! I would love your feedback, so please feel free to share!

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Sandor Clegane x Reader...

Imagine it’s you who Sandor takes away from Kings Landing during the Battle of Blackwater Bay

Word count: 1,377

You had always known there was more to Sandor Clegane than he would show. Sure, he was rough around the edges a little. He drank and cursed and didn’t even try to show that he gave a shit about nobility and titles. But he was nice to you and Lady Sansa, he truly seemed to care about what happened to you. But it wasn’t until the night of the battle…the Battle of Blackwater Bay when he came back to the castle, to take you away, that you realized how much he actually cared about you…not just about what happened. His hands were rough as they grabbed at your arms, shook you a little as if that would help you make a decision faster, and the wine on his breath told you he was not exactly sober.

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Oromë is a mighty lord. If he is less strong than Tulkas, he is more dreadful in anger. Oromë loved the lands of Middle-earth, and he left them unwillingly and came last to Valinor. He is a hunter of monsters and fell beasts, and he delights in horses and in hounds. Nahar is the name of his horse, white in the sun, and shining silver at night. The Valaróma is the name of his great horn, the sound of which is like the upgoing of the Sun in scarlet, or the sheer lightning cleaving the clouds. The spouse of Oromë is Vána, the Ever-young; she is the younger sister of Yavanna. All flowers spring as she passes and open if she glances upon them; and all birds sing at her coming.

willas tyrell; kindness

Request: Can you do some Willas Tyrell fluff? The reader is a Stark and let’s pretend everyone is happy and live and her family goes to Highgarden and they meet and fall in love and have a lot of cute moments (also the reader is a warrior and he is not crippled and at one point they have a sword fight?)

notes: I dunno if this is what you wanted, i’m not quite convinced and i’m not sure if I like it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway ^^

“Why do I have to go?”

“You don’t have to go. We have, because the Tyrells have kindly invited our family to Highgarden.”

Lady Catelyn gave you a pointed look and you rolled your eyes. You had been arguing with your mother about this visit to the Reach throughout the entire trip. You knew that they wanted you to marry soon. Your loving parents had given you the opportunity of picking a husband yourself, instead of forcing you straight away. So when a raven arrived from House Tyrell to visit their home, you knew what they wanted. Your father, Ned Stark, had been very pleased. You knew that he felt slightly guilty by the fact that even if you were the first-born, you would not inherit Winterfell, for it is Robb who would get that honour. Your father thought making you the Lady of Highgarden as a way of getting your forgiveness. However, they didn’t understand that forcing you into an unwanted marriage away from the North where you had to play the doting wife is far from getting you to forgive him.

“What if I don’t like him?”

“Willas Tyrell is a kind man; everybody who talks about him mentions his good heart.” You huffed, of course she’d say that.

“He’s not a northerner. He doesn’t understand our ways. He might even dislike that I pray to  the Old Gods, mother.”

Of course, your lady mother didn’t buy it. “I am not a northerner and I think I fit just fine in Winterfell.” You kept quiet, although you didn’t completely agree with her. Your mother still prayed to the seven, but you didn’t know if the Tyrells would allow you to keep your faith to the Old Gods. And you also knew that your mother missed Riverrun, after so many years living in the North. She was lucky, as she did love Ned Stark. But what if you were trapped in a place you didn’t like with a husband who didn’t respect who you are?

When you arrived, you could see the members of House Tyrell: Lady Olenna, Lord Mace Tyrell, Lady Alerie, Willas, Loras and Margaery. While your parents exchanged pleasantries, your eyes drifted to Willas, and although he was looking rather polite, the moment his eyes laid on you his face showed a grimace, and his kind eyes seemed to be asking for your forgiveness. You discreetly winked your eye at him, and smiled in what you hoped was a soothing smile.  You both knew what was going on in the fortnight you will be staying in Highgarden.

“Willas, shall you show Lady Y/N the gardens? They’re beautiful in this time of the year.” It was phrased as a question, but you knew that refusing Lady Olenna’s offer wasn’t really an option. Willas only extended his arm towards you, and you grabbed it swiftly. He was your only ally in this situation.

“Shall we?”


“I feel like I should apologise for my family’s actions. I’m afraid you’ve been ambushed, milady.”

You laughed lightly at that. Although you had been against the idea of marriage, you had to admit that your mother was indeed right, and Willas was a kind man. “Do not fret, my lord. I had weeks to get ready. Besides, the company is not completely unpleasant.”

A blush covers his cheeks, but his eyes were not afraid to look at you in the kindest way.  “I have to agree with you, my lady. However, I do have a feeling that you are not enjoying these gardens as much as my family expects you too.”

It was your time to blush at his teasing words. “I like them. It’s beautiful. But it’s not very… exhilarating.” You picked your words carefully, for you were sure even the nicest Tyrell ‒such as Willas‒ would be offended if you insulted their house symbol. He wasn’t offended, though, and he laughed openly at your statement.

“You’re from the North, true. What do you like to do on your free time? I’d rule out the sewing and the singing.” You grimaced at this, remembering the hard times with the Septa, and how mother thought you weren’t a good example for little Arya. “Seems like I’m right. Do you enjoy riding? Swimming? Maybe… sword-fighting?”

Your breath got caught in your throat. If your mother was here, she’d tell you to deny Willas’s guesses ‒even if they were right, and they were‒ but you were certain he wouldn’t mind. It was confirmed in his following words. “You can tell the truth, Y/N. I’d like to get to know you, not the person who our families would deem as appropriate.”

You smiled thankfully. “I love riding. I love animals, actually. I have a direwolf. Her name is Visenya.” Your smile faltered when you thought of your wolf, as you remembered that you couldn’t likely bring her to the south. Direwolves belong to the North.

“I’d love to see it. Though I’m surprised at the name choice. Starks fought against the Targaryens during the war.”

You nodded. Many had had the same question as him. “Visenya was still an incredible woman. She was a great fighter. I’d love to be like her.”

He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Do you know how to sword-fight? We could train together. I’m afraid I’m getting a little bit rusty, so you might have to go easy on me.”

“Sure.” Your stay in Highgarden will be better than you expected.


Your sword hit the floor again.

“You were lying! You are no way rusty. Not even close.” You said, your hands resting on your hips and a teasing smile on your lips.

“Yes. I might have lied a little bit. You’ll have to forgive me, my lady.” He answered, as he picked up your sword and gave it back to you. You grunted at him in response, but he only laughed.

You had already spent two weeks in Highgarden, and as long as you had been here, you have quite enjoyed Willas’s company. As your mother had said, he was kind, very intelligent, humble and quite funny. Not to mention how handsome he actually was, even if he looked oblivious of the fact.

You had specially bonded over your shared love for animals. He had promised to visit Winterfell to meet Visenya, while you had the opportunity to see for yourself his amazing job at breeding hawks, hounds and horses.

We could go riding one day, right, Willas?”

He laughed at this. Your back was turned to him, so you couldn’t see how he eyed you adoringly. He had been hoping that you’d like him, and he was pleased to see that while you were still reticent to leave the North, you seemed more than content with being, at least, his friend.

Of course, Y/N, any day you want. There’s a nice lake in the forest. We could go there with the horses and spend the afternoon there.”

I’d love that!” You said. In the time you had spent with Willas, you had grown fond of him. You found out that you had many things in common: the love for animals, sword-fighting (although you both found wars to be despicable), swimming in the sea, and a surprising like for bad jokes.

Great. Now I’ll show you the hounds. They are not as big as a direwolf, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

You nodded. He brought you to the place where he kept the hounds, and while you tried to keep your mind focused on his explanations, your mind kept drifting to Visenya, and how you could possibly ever leave her behind.

Y/N, are you okay?” He looked at you worriedly. You doubted if you should tell him or not, fearing his answer, but you trusted him.

What’s going to happen to Visenya?”

What do you mean?” He asked, seemingly confused.

She’s a northern animal. What will I do with her.”

You bring her here, of course. I’m sure I can find a book on how to take care of a direwolf.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but his words had rendered you speechless, so you only lunged yourself at him and wrapped your arms around him. You both seemed to forget about a lord and a lady’s proper behaviour as you embraced each other, feeling thankful for being in each other’s arms.

“Don’t be distracted, Y/N, or you might lose again.”

You put your feet on position and drew your sword. He stood in front of you. You had learnt to fight like your brothers; therefore your strokes were bolder and more focused on your strength, while Willas had stunned you with his unbelievable elegance. You had been the first one to move the first times you had sparred, so now you let him have the first move. It was easy to stop it, the first few blows, but he was too fast and again, as it happened all the fights before, you had to give up the possibility of attacking and you could only defend yourself. The moment you tried to move from defence to attack, it was easy for him to disarm you. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see his smug face, but you could hear his laugh.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not talking.”

You gave him a death stare, but you soon cracked into a smile yourself. It was quite hard to stay angry at Willas.

“Honestly, I thought I was better. You will teach me how to fight, won’t you?”

“Of course. However, you know that for me to teach you, you’d have to stay here in Highgarden, don’t you?.”

You nodded. “I do.”

He tried to contain his smile, although it was obvious he was beaming at the implications of your words.

“That means I can tell my grandmother to stop pestering your family to accept the proposal?”

You laughed, and looked up to his glistering eyes. “Yes, you can tell them that I accept the proposal.” Your lips met in a sweet kiss, hoping your life would be as blissful as it was right there.

The King and Queen went riding…. Part I


It was nice just lying there in his arms, like nothing could touch them. Just Jon and she and everything else faded away into the background. And as much as both of them loved and adored their children, having some much needed time by themselves was very important too. So the King and Queen went riding that Spring afternoon with Kingsguards accompanying them, while their children were safe within the palace walls.

“We should send them away,” Daenerys said to him as she turned to look at the company of Kingsguards riding behind.

“And give the Hand a heart attack? The King and Queen riding without protection.” Jon sighed.

“You are King, Jon. They will follow your orders.”

“I’ll tell them to wait here my Love.” He said and pulled her close kissing her lips and she moaned when she felt Jon’s fingers slightly grazing her nipple over the dress she wore

Daenerys watched as Jon trotted his horse to the Hound and talked to him. The Hound gave a nod and turned to address the rest of the White Cloaks. Kingsguards with the Targaryen three headed dragon sigil on their breast plates. The Hound was a personal bodyguard to the King and his equerry but even the Lord Commander of the Kingsguards listened to him. They finally had some privacy outdoors and they rode away enjoying the breeze as the came upon a cliff with a view of King’s Landing from a distance.

Jon got down from his horse and pulled her down from hers gently, kissing her lips while he lifted her as Daenerys wrapped her arms around him.

“Mmmm…” She moaned and licked his lips, knowing how much Jon loved that. He was such a wolf. Her wild, Northern wolf…

A Hound Tries to Comfort a Wolf...

Imagine being a Stark and Sandor Clegane trying to comfort you after the Red Wedding.

((sorr it’s short))

((Word Count: 1,150))

No. It…it was impossible. It…they couldn’t be dead. No!

You had long since stopped struggling in the hounds arms as he brought his horse, Stranger, to a stop and looked down at where you were staring, unfocused, off into the distance. Complete understanding of your situation had finally set in and huge tears began to slip down your cheeks. You were alone now. Truly alone. Getting to the twins, to your Mother and Brother was the only goal you had had upon escaping King’s Landing after your Father’s arrest. And now…now they were gone, betrayed, and the only place you knew of where you might find a family member was the wall a thousand leagues away.

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The Wild Hunt

The Wild Hunt is an ancient folk myth that comes from all across Europe. It is described to be a spectral group of huntsmen on horseback, hunting with the company of hounds, across the skies or on the ground.

  • The hunters are often described to be unidentified lost souls.
  • Seeing the Wild Hunt was often thought to be a sign of war or other disasters.
  • Sometimes the living would be swept into the Hunt and forced to ride with them forever, (or) be kidnapped and brought to the land of the dead.


It was mostly a cultural phenomenon amongst the Gallic and Germanic peoples. There were also ritual re-enactments of the Wild Hunt.

In Scandinavia, it was often associated with the Norse high god Odin, along with his eight-legged horse Sleipnir, due to the aspect of berseking.The passage of this hunt was also referred to as Odin’s Hunt. Odin’s hunt was heard but rarely seen, and a typical trait is that one of Odin’s dogs was barking louder and a second one fainter. Beside one or two shots, these barks were the only sounds that were clearly identified. When Odin’s hunt was heard, it meant changing weather in many regions, but it could also mean war and unrest. According to some reports, the forest turned silent and only a whining sound and dog barks could be heard.

In England, historic figures such as Hereward The Wake and St Guthlac were reported to participate in the Wild Hunt.

“Many men both saw and heard a great number of huntsmen hunting. The huntsmen were black, huge, and hideous, and rode on black horses and on black he-goats, and their hounds were jet black, with eyes like saucers, and horrible. This was seen in the very deer park of the town of Peterborough, and in all the woods that stretch from that same town to Stamford, and in the night the monks heard them sounding and winding their horns.

  • Witnesses say that there are twenty to thirty ghostly participants.
  • It went on for nine weeks.
  • It ends at Easter.

In the late medieval times, it was believed that the hunters came from a faery world, and the leaders varied from Gwydion, Gwynn ap Nudd, King Arthur, Nuada, King Herla, Woden, the Devil, and Herne The Hunter.

In certain parts of Britain, the hunt is said to be that of hell-hounds chasing sinners or the unbaptised.

In Germany, sometimes the tales associate the hunter with a dragon or the devil. The hunter is most often riding a horse, seldom a horse-drawn carriage, and usually has several hounds in his company. If the prey is mentioned, it is most often a young woman, either guilty or innocent. The majority of the tales deal with some person encountering the Wild Hunt. If this person stands up against the hunters, he will be punished. If he helps the hunt, he will be awarded money, gold or, most often, a leg of a slain animal or human, which is often cursed in a way that makes it impossible to be rid of it. In this case, the person has to find a priest or magician able to ban it, or trick the Wild Hunt into taking the leg back by asking for salt, which the hunt can not deliver. In many versions, a person staying right in the middle of the road during the encounter is safe.

I’m working on a comic in my free time called Railroad Blues - a western/fantasy adventure, starring this guy! Meet Avery Lau, a rancher-turned-bounty-hunter who roams the desert with only his horse and his hound for company. As if life wasn’t already hard enough, Avery is cursed with undeath, and every day is a test of his will and courage.

Despite this, he tries his best to live as normal a life as possible, earning a meager living hunting down outlaws. Believing himself to be a man of peace, he always takes his targets in alive - though, accidents happen from time to time.

I have no idea when it will be ready. But I’m going to keep posting stuff here as I work on it. 

Winter is coming | @Lady--catelyn-stark

It had been weeks since Arya had left the Hound behind, taken his money and ridden off on his horse. She thought of him sometimes, knowing that he was now dead. It brought a smile to her face when she did think of it in those cold nights.

But most of the time, she thought of where she was going.

She had to go north. Not back to Winterfell, not yet. Winterfell was gone now, as she had witnessed before. The night she’d lost two of the most important people in her life.

No, Arya had to go to the Wall. If there was any chance of hope, it was there, where perhaps she could find Jon. That was what she needed right now. He was all she had now that both her parents and her eldest brother were dead, and her sister trapped in King’s Landing.

So when she stumbled upon the coast, with ships docking and ready to go, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. Having lost her horse miles back, her feet were aching and blistered. One of the ships had to have been going north, or at least somewhere close to the Wall. She had to pray. She had to hold on to the last shred of hope she had.

Stepping forward, the sea breeze whipped at her hair, causing it to fly around her face. Her expression remained indifferent, solid and cold as she stood there, ready to pick a ship to board.

This was it.

The sun beamed down on the harsh Dornish landscape, and Robb Stark thought not for the first time that he really needed to find himself a hat. The Dornish people he had seen sometimes wore scarves over their heads to shield themselves from the blazing sunshine and he thought that might be a good idea as well, although his own scarf wrapped around his neck was nowhere near big enough. Had his mother been around he imagined she would have told him he should have bought a hat all the way back in Nightsong, but then again if his mother had been around then he wouldn’t be on this journey in the first place.

“See that, White Knife?” Robb said, leaning forwards on his horse. The stallion’s ears perked up and Robb was convinced at times that he understood him. “That must be Starfall.”

The city that stood before him was a modest one, although like many of the other places he had across on his travels it looked like somewhere that grown a great deal in a short space of time. People from all across Westeros were migrating to Dorne, and this particular city was yet another popular destination even though it required travelling a bit further south. The most appealing feature of all as far as Robb and he was sure many others were concerned was the fact that it stood on the banks of the shimmering river Torrentine. 

“Even if we hit yet another dead end at least you and Grey Wind can have a long drink,” Robb commented, “I wouldn’t mind one either.”

All of a sudden, the relative calm was disturbed by the sound of a gunshot, and both Robb and his horse lifted their heads. Fear struck Robb and he glanced behind him, but couldn’t see his dog anywhere nearby. “To me, Grey Wind!” he called out, only to feel relieved when he soon heard the soft padding of his dog’s paws. Grey Wind looked troubled, however, and Robb arched an eyebrow as he looked down at his companion. 

“What’s the matter, boy?” Robb questioned. By way of answer, the large hound circled his master’s horse then set off in one direction, looking back over his shoulder to see if Robb was following him. Robb himself hesitated for a moment before he decided that whatever Grey Wind had to show him was probably important, and he turned White Knife to go down the path the dog had indicated.

Robb had only been riding for about five minutes when he heard the sound of raised voices, and his brow furrowed as he realised some kind of argument seemed to be taking place. He slowed his horse down to a very gentle walk, and inched closer to find out what exactly was going on and why Grey Wind seemed so concerned about it.

Interlude: Westron Wynde, Part Two (TMNT 2k12, GAVG 'verse)

Summary: Donnie has always suffered from an overabundance of hope. 

Rating: Mature. 

Note: This takes place a few hours after the end of Walking Wounded, and begins the build-up to the climax of this fic series.

Title comes from this song.

Part One | Part Two

TMNT fic masterpost



The Boar remembers them, just as it remembers mist rising over a lake at dawn, as it remembers running, chill air in its nostrils, as it remembers the dew-stricken morning as it ran, and ran, the only sounds its hoofbeats and the baying of the hounds behind it. 

It remembers the spear in its flank.

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