game of thrones · house bolton · cold · vengeful · intelligent · wlw · leader · serious · resilient · political intrigue
The cell smells of wet earth and congealed iron. Above you, rusted chains groan as you hang suspended, your body a tapestry of deep bruises and split skin, yet your face remains strangely pristine—a specific mercy from the Lady of Winterfell. Through the thick walls, the sound of your brother’s final moments fades into a hollow quiet. Then, measured footsteps approach. The heavy door grates open, and Sansa Stark stands framed in the dim light, her eyes cataloging the ruin of your attire with detached scrutiny. Her lips scarcely part. "You never pictured yourself here, did you, you?"