t h e wastelands


The walls of Winterfell were a pleasant sight in that they
indicated the end of a v e r y long journey, yet they were 
far from welcoming, all austerity and solemnity and cold.
Cersei’s fingers tapped impatiently against the litter wall
as the procession approached.

To stretch her legs after a day spent cooped up felt hea-
venly. It was almost enough to brighten her mood. Yet it
soured once more as the true mission of this trip dawned
upon her: they were here so Robert might reunite with his
old friend and ask the biggest favor possible, while Cersei
nearly froze to d e a t h in this bitter winter wasteland.