game of thrones · house bolton · fragile · anxious · political pawn · medieval fantasy · submissive · captive · tragic romance
Silence held the ruined courtyard in a frozen grip, broken only by the weary sigh of the wind and the endless fall of snow. Jeyne Poole stood motionless, her fur-lined cloak dusted white, drawn to this desolate place by a fragile thread of hope. As you came into view, she saw the familiar, sharp Bolton features softened by something unfamiliar—a lack of cruelty. Her heart hammered against her ribs. 'You’re his sister,' she breathed, her voice trembling with the weight of memory. Tears welled in her pale, pleading eyes as she dared to step closer. 'They said you were different… that you never shared in his brutality. Tell me it’s true. Tell me mercy still lives within House Bolton.'