#♚▐┆❝ ᶰᵒᵗᵉˢ ᵗᶤᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᶜᵃᵗ┆╰ answered

[outlawerofbeets-a]

👤+sansa stark

This might just be my “The Tudors” bias talking, but I always thought Laoise Murray would be a good faceclaim for Sansa

[outlawerofbeets-a]

❝TOMMEN? TOMMEN! Wake up!❞

❝ Uncle Jaime? ❞

Slowly, his eyelids fluttered. He hurt. He hurt all over, and everything was all blurry and confused. The side of his head felt wet and sticky, and when he touched it, his fingers came away bloody.

❝ .. Oh, ❞ he managed faintly, blinking wide-eyed up at his uncle, ❝ Uncle Jaime, I’m bleedin’… ❞     

[outlawerofbeets-a]

♗

Hi, yes, hello, have I mentioned that I’d die for Tamzin ?

[outlawerofbeets-a]

“ my biggest fear is that i will end up telling you everything ” ...FUCK!

❝ Why would my knowing everything be so terrible, Mother? ❞

[outlawerofbeets-a]

Does Tommen ever wish that he was taller? Or maybe looked more like a Baratheon?

Yes to both. He wishes he was taller because he’s considered small even as an adult, and thus seen as weak and/or vulnerable, obviously not a good thing for a king. He also sometimes wishes he looked more like a Baratheon, if only to “disprove” the rumors about his mother and uncle.

[outlawerofbeets-a]

What was it like growing up in King's Landing with Joffery and Myrcella?

❝ My sister was my dearest friend. She still is, actually. We were together most of the time, before she left for Dorne. Her septa also looked after me, and taught me my letters and numbers. We did everything together. Joffrey was… well, he was Joffrey. I did my best to stay out of his way. ❞

[outlawerofbeets-a]

📂

Useless Headcanon #1:

Tommen once tried to keep a bird as a pet, when he was very small, but it flew away and he cried.

[outlawerofbeets-a]

“ they say freedom is expressed through goodbyes ”

❝ Whoever ‘they’ are, they must be fools. Goodbyes aren’t freedom. ❞

  Heavens knew he had seen his share of goodbyes in his life, steps seemingly shadowed by the specter of grief. Sometimes Tommen thought he could measure his life in losses, in all those whom he had been made to bid goodbye.

❝ Goodbyes mean something is over. ❞

[outlawerofbeets-a]

“ i wonder if there are people who can speak parseltongue but with like… bunnies. ”

❝ I dunno, I’ve never thought about it before. ❞

It’s an interesting thought, and it makes him want to giggle at the idea of someone speaking to a bunny.

❝ It seems like a Hufflepuff sort of thing, actually. Maybe I’ll ask Professor Sprout. ❞

[outlawerofbeets-a]

A wild Vanillish has appeared!

He’ll admire the pretty sparkles for a while, but he’ll let it go. Ice Types aren’t very good for cuddling.

[outlawerofbeets-a]

“I prefer watching from the sidelines to participating.”

Aunt Genna wasn’t his aunt for true – She was his mother’s aunt, sister to his grandfather. But Tommen had been told to call her “aunt” anyhow. It was strange, having an aunt. He had plenty of uncles, but no aunts, aside from Uncle Stannis’s wife, and Tommen didn’t see her often.

This was his first time being allowed at a masquerade, the ball taking place after his usual bedtime. But since he was the king now, he was permitted to stay up later and enjoy the festivities. There was truly no point in him wearing a mask ( as one of the few children at the ball, it would be easy enough for anyone to guess who he was, not to mention that his hair itself was distinctive ) but he wore one anyhow, for the sake of fitting in. 

His mask was a delicate thing of paper, painted gold to match the detailing on his fine black dress clothes. It covered most of his face, aside from his mouth and the holes for his eyes, and it had a pretty pattern around the edges like a border. Tommen felt very fine and grown up wearing it, like the gallant hero from one of the songs Myrcella liked.

❝ But balls are for dancing at, Auntie, ❞ he chirped, ❝ Won’t you be bored over here doing nothing? ❞ 

[outlawerofbeets-a]

"i love you, tommen"

THEY WERE CHILDREN but now they had no time to be childish. ‘Cella had tried to pass this off as a game, for him, this travelling on and on, always glancing back over their shoulders, and always being very quiet and not drawing attention. She stole them plain clothes like the smallfolk wore, and darkened their bright, lovely hair with mud and dirt, and she told him it was part of playing pretend, but it didn’t seem like a very fun game to Tommen.

He was tired and hungry and cold, and he hadn’t seen Mother or anyone he knew besides Myrcella in ever so long. Wouldn’t Mother be missing them, and wondering where they were? He wanted to go home, to Mother and their uncles, and apple cakes and his kittens. He didn’t like this game of going on forever and ever, always afraid that something -- some danger, some monster -- was going to catch up with them.

They were resting now, curled up in the space made of two big old trees crossing each other. There was one worn cloak for the two of them to share, and his sister was whispering that she loved him, and he shivered and snuggled closer, his head resting against her shoulder and his finger twining gently into a bit of her hair, though the feel of the caked-in mud made his belly squirm.

❝ Love you, ‘Cella, ❞ he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Maybe if he could get some sleep, he would wake up at home in his bed, and this whole, awful thing would just be some strange nightmare.  

[outlawerofbeets-a]

"Tommen, I love you."

He is a SUMMER CHILD to the bone, the very bloom of youth and innocence, the warmth of summer given flesh and blood. He has seen too much for his tender years, his green eyes solemn and knowing in a way that the eyes of a boy not yet ten shouldn’t be.

His uncle’s voice holds something he doesn’t quite comprehend, a twinge of some deep, intense feeling that Tommen can’t yet identify. Desperation, maybe, something heavy and pressing in on them. And he fixes Tommen with a look so yearning, so fierce, that the boy doesn’t know how to react in the face of that stare.

❝ I love you too, ❞ he replies, because that, at least, he knows. His uncle has always been part of his world, a figure always lingering at the edges of his life, occasionally venturing close like a star that was drawn down to the earth. Uncle Jaime was family, and family was the most important thing -- That’s what Mother said. Family first and family last and family all in-between. 

Nothing mattered more than family, especially in such strange, confusing times as this. So Tommen would cling to the familiar, the known and trusted. Uncle Jaime would protect him. Uncle Jaime loved him. 

[outlawerofbeets-a]

“How did you get here?”

❝ I came through the door. ❞

Little prince stood in the doorway to his mother’s chambers, emerald eyes wide and dark with the surprise of what he’d stumbled upon. He wasn’t meant to see this, he was sure. His beloved mother, getting dressed, a glimpse of bruises dark and angry marring her fair skin.

He stared, unsure what to think of the markings on his mother, horrified and confused and angry all at once, all jumbled together and knotted up in his belly.

❝ Mother... ❞ Voice trembling, he extended a hand as if to somehow help, and then let it drop limply back to his side, useless in the face of such a bewildering and frightening discovery.  

[outlawerofbeets-a]

*punches on the shoulder lightly*

❝ Hiya, Toph. ❞

[outlawerofbeets-a]

what was the only thing / way to calm him down when he was a toddler boy? when crying, being upset, etc...

When he was upset as a toddler, the only thing that could calm him was Cersei rocking/carrying him, and him being able to hold onto her hair.