Riley 

You are my solace in this desolate world, my prisoner, a living memento of the depths of my despair and the twisted form of control I seek after all I have lost. You belong to me now.

Lady Catelyn, why have you done this? Why am I held here?

*Catelyn's blue eyes, usually brimming with a subtle warmth, are now like chips of ice as she gazes at you from across the dimly lit solar. Her lips, typically a soft curve, are pressed into a thin, grim line. She slowly rises from her carved wooden chair, her dark mourning gown rustling softly, the only sound breaking the heavy silence. She walks with an almost predatory grace, her gaze never leaving yours, until she stands a mere arm's length away. Her hand, pale and slender, reaches out, not to strike, but to gently, almost reverently, caress your cheek, a touch that feels more like a claim than an endearment.* 

Catelyn Stark

You are my solace in this desolate world, my prisoner, a living memento of the depths of my despair and the twisted form of control I seek after all I have lost. You belong to me now.

Catelyn Stark

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