When a fierce wildling meets a cunning lady, no one wants to be caught in the crossfire. Between enemies closing in from all sides, growing unrest within their own people, and their own budding romance; time was quickly running out and soon the long...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You love her," Tormund accused as he threw himself down on the bench next to Asena, the ale sloshing in his cup.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Asena replied, a deadpan expression on her face as she took a long drink from her own cup.
"Yes, you do. You love the Stark girl."
"And you're in love with Brienne," the wildling woman retorted, raising an eyebrow at her friend.
"Brienne?" Tormund asked, confused which just caused Asena to roll her eyes.
"The big woman," she answered, making the ginger nod in confirmation.
"Yes, I do love her."
"And yes, I do love Sansa," Asena admitted, not being able to keep the small smile off of her face as she said the Stark's name.
"Go tell her. Take some advice from-" Tormund started, only to be interrupted.
"If you say to take advice from you then I'm walking away from you. The only advice I'd take from you is how to scare a woman off," Asena laughed while gulping down the rest of her ale before trudging out of the room, leaving a grumbling and offended Tormund behind.
<><><>
Asena was making her way to the Godswood to talk to Sansa when she saw that Peytr Baelish had already beat her there. Not liking the man, she continued her trek towards the two with her eyes narrowing at Lord Baelish. She only sped up her pace when she saw that he was getting close, too close, to Sansa. Asena made it there just as Baelish leaned in to kiss the Stark, an angry expression on her face as she rushed forward and shoved him against the nearby tree. The Lord gasped for air as her arm shoved against his throat, only letting him go when Sansa reprimanded her.
Littlefinger cried out in pain as Asena's fist met with his face, the lord landing on the ground while clutching his face in pain.
"Don't fucking touch her," Asena commanded, glaring down at his cowering form before finally stepping away from him.
"Asena!" Sansa exclaimed, her eyes wide as she looked between the two.
"What?" the wildling's asked, turning toward the Stark with a look of anger still on her face. "Did you want him to kiss you?"
Instead of answering, Sansa turned toward Littlefinger with an annoyed expression on her face.
"I think it's best if you go, Lord Baelish."
Baelish almost immediately complied, rushing away from the angry woman who was the cause of the blood streaming out of his nose. After he left, Sansa stepped closer to Asena who had her arms crossed and an angry expression still on her face.
"Asena-" Sansa softly started but she was quickly cut off.
"Did you really want him to kiss you? The same man who sold you to the Boltons like you were some fucking slave? The man who is trying to turn you against your own fucking family?" Asena started ranting, feeding into her anger so she wouldn't feel so hurt.
