hippie ● stoner
writer ● librarian
sea bitch. an unapologetic narcissist with a queen complex. i love asha greyjoy more than myself. i read a lot of books, especially a song of ice and fire. i wish i were a viking. aesthetics are important to me. i don't care for misogyny. ● about me tag.
● appearance tag.
asoiaf au: rickon is crowned king in the north and lord of winterfell
(+ older!sansa always by his side, protecting her baby brother)– as requested by anon
he follows me around all day, clutching my leg and crying.
His baby brother had been wild as a winter storm since he learned Robb was riding off to war, weeping and angry by turns. He’d refused to eat, cried and screamed for most of a night, even punched Old Nan when she tried to sing him to sleep, and the next day he’d vanished. Robb had set half the castle searching for him, and when at last they’d found him down in the crypts, Rickon had slashed at them with a rusted iron sword he’d snatched from a dead king’s hand, and Shaggydog had come slavering out of the darkness like a green-eyed demon. The wolf was near as wild as Rickon; he’d bitten Gage on the arm and torn a chunk of flesh from Mikken’s thigh. It had taken Robb himself and Grey Wind to bring him to bay. Farlen had the black wolf chained up in the kennels now, and Rickon cried all the more for being without him.