limerence (ˈlimərəns)
→n. the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person
"You've changed, brother. A lot." His sister commented, looking all over him to find any sign of madness. "Thank you then, sister." Viserys r...
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XXXII : The Crypt
She latches onto the dagger Viserys had given her, controlling her shaky breath as much as she could. Her mind thought of her fifteen gods, praying for them to kept her and her husband safe.
The rumbling sound up above the ground came with a quake that made the dirt fell from it's place above the stone bricks ceiling and down to the people who were hiding in it.
"Are we to die in here?" Sansa bit her lip, her already pale face looked even more pale than before.
Lylian closed her eyes, hiding the fear in her eyes.
"I do not know."
The murmur of the people's prayers echoed in the cold grave.
Fear for the unknown spread throughout the area, making her mind heavy and her fingers numb.
Then suddenly, the prayer broke into cries and screams.
Her eyes snapped to where it came from, only to found a hand piercing through the wall.
A wight's hand.
Before she could scream in horror, the stone was pushed out, revealing it's lifeless body, piercing blue eyes stared around in a dangerous glare.
Her reflexes was quick enough to made her ran and gather the frightened Northerners who are sheltered in that area out. She unsheathed her sword and brought it down it onto the dead's head to buy time as her hand grabbed a stunned child into her arms and carried him out.
"If one could break through. There will be more." She turned and said to them. "Do not make a sound."
And that's all she could do to help them.
Lylian took one last glance at the headless wight on the ground, and went back to the red-haired lady.
"That's heroic." Tyrion remarked.
She sighed as her body was lowered down next to him. "I just did what I have to do."
They sat together, the three nobles from three different familes.
She winced when her hand touches the Stark lady's skin.
"You are cold."
"Don't be afraid," Sansa shrugged. "I was born and raised in the North, I will be fine."
"Here." The Imp offered her a bottle. "You might need it to keep your blood warm, otherwise you might have frozen yourself before you even know it."
The northern girl's blue eyes stared at it, then slowly, she accepted it into her hands.
"Thank you."
"You could have some, too, lady Lylian." He said. "I would not mind."
