#eddard x Cersei

[dr3adlady]

February 2024 Romance Drawing Challenge

Day 2: Eddard Stark and Cersei Lannistere

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[uluthrek]

au in which robert, the starks and the lannisters play monopoly instead of going hunting and pushing each other‘s kids from towers.

tyrion implements a tax system to make things more interesting and fights cersei over the cat for a solid ten minutes.

around thirty minutes into the game, catelyn realizes that she has free will and stops paying taxes.

arya and sansa haggle over new york avenue, which ends up being bought by theon. this causes the two to completely cast aside their differences, ally and subsequently start doing everything in their power to make theon‘s life hell.

theon himself is quite severely stoned the entire time throughout.

ned enters horrendous debt pretty much immediately and, after two hours of being financially sucked dry by both cersei and his tax evader of a wife, decides to just place his figurine in jail and never leave.

jon, playing the dog, controls the railroads and makes jaime, playing the ship, go completely broke within minutes. being beaten by a bastard and officially the first to lose the game makes jaime so mad he spends the rest of the evening perched on the family‘s ancestral armchair eating flaming hot cheetos and stifling sobs.

cersei is holding onto her last two dollars and her one house in atlantic avenue like a maniac and evades taxes like it‘s an olympic sport. she claims ownership of kentucky avenue on the grounds that red is her house‘s color at least twice. after three hours, she‘s consumed enough vintage red to kill a large mammal and keeps quoting the art of war. fascinatingly enough, she never goes completely broke.

robert, just as broke and drunk as his wife but not nearly as ferocious, proposes marriage for tax advantages to bran, who is in possession of the boardwalk and lets him dangle on his proposition for two rounds before accepting and feeling like a benevolent god.

sansa sees this and immediately proposes to arya, who accepts, only for them to be sued by their mother for public indecency („you‘re siblings, jesus christ!“). arya argues that this is just a game and that one could argue that robert‘s and bran‘s marital alliance is just as if not even more inappropriate, considering that bran is seven and robert thirtyseven. sansa countersues her mother for tax evasion, who promises she‘ll drop her lawsuit if her daughters let her keep hoarding perverse amounts of wealth. „love wins!“ arya says, which causes jaime, still perched on the armchair but now eating old nan‘s home made whiskey truffles, to hysterically sob. cersei stares him down.

robb, in a rare moment of almost prophetic foresight, excuses himself one hour in and goes on a very, VERY long walk with grey wind.

tyrion, whose tax system has spectacularly backfired in his face, proposes marriage to catelyn, jon and cersei in rapid succession, who all turn him down. „i wish i was the monster you think i am. i wish i had enough poison for the whole pack of you. i would gladly give my life to watch you all swallow it.“ he screams before he leaves the table.

at that, joffrey, who has refused to participate and instead sits on the couch playing doom on his nintendo ds, starts hysterically laughing. tyrion turns on his heel and awards his nephew with the bitchslap of the century. this causes cersei to completely abandon the game and chase after him with a broom. catelyn makes sure that everyone is distracted by the lannister antics and then reaches across the table and bags cersei‘s money and properties.

with a heavy heart, myrcella trades arya and sansa one of her limited edition bayala schleich unicorns for park place.

at this point, the game is between the tycoons that are catelyn and jon, the bran-robert alliance, the arya-sansa-alliance, and ned, who is still in jail and watching ice hockey on his phone under the table. that is when catelyn hears rickon gagging and discovers that he, in the absence of tyrion, the self declared bank manager, has managed to eat all bank notes from the box.

rickon gets his stomach pumped, cersei and tyrion have both been arrested, theon is still stoned, arya, sansa and myrcella have wandered off to go play schleich horses, and jon remains at the table, alone, content, and quietly considering himself the winner.

[thefreypie]

Ned touched her cheek gently.

"Has he done this before?"

[snake-berry]

ship drawing challenge day 2: nedsei!

posting 3 days in a row wow thats so unlike me... anyways despite my status as a nedcat warrior i also happen to love nedsei so yayyyy im so happy i got to draw them finally.

this is like au where they were somehow betrothed (hence the winterfell background and younger versions of the characters). my young ned looks so much like how i envision jon <3

[sare11aa11eras]

Cersei and Ned in the Godswood

Ned touched her cheek gently. “Has he done this before?”

“Once or twice.” She shied away from his hand. “Never on the face before. Jaime would have killed him, even if it meant his own life.”

-Eddard XII, A Game of Thrones

[dalekofchaos]

GRRM's original outline

Other what if scenarios that I ran out of space for. Add your own if it didn't make the cut

What if Lyanna lived and became Robert's Queen?

What if Myrcella was born first and was betrothed to Robb

What if Robb and Margaery are betrothed?

What if Rhaella survived childbirth with Daenerys?

What if Joanna Lannister didn't die in childbirth?

What if Arthur took Lyanna/Jon to Dragonstone and fled with Rhaella, Viserys and Dany and regrouped with Jon Connington?

Jamie took the throne for himself after killing Aerys?

What if Elia and her children escaped to Dorne?

What if Balon died instead of his sons?

What if Jon Arryn had a son and was raised with Ned and Robert?

What if Theon did what Asha recommended and kidnapped Bran and RIckon and burned Winterfell to the ground and this leads to Theon becoming the Iron Prince and a strong contender for the Kingsmoot.

What if Rhaegar and Robert died in the Trident and Ned became King?

What if Viserys met and married Arianne Martell?

What if Domeric Bolton lived and never met Ramsay?

What if Rhaenyra won The Dance Of The Dragons

What if Arya revealed herself to Roose Bolton

What if Rhaegar married Cersei instead of Elia?

What if Ned and his brothers talked sense into Robert and he swore off his ways to be good for Lyanna and Lyanna fought in the rebellion because Aerys kills her father and brother(because Southern Ambitions)

[paristapita]

day 2: Ned x Cersei I'm late again, but here I leave the drawing

Organizade by: @dr3adlady

I was going to do a simple drawing, but I really liked it so I decided to draw it in my normal style. I never thought I'd draw Cersei and Ned but they look really cute together.

[gulnarsultan]

Ned Stark to Cersei: “Your children are not Baratheons, they hab golden hair instead of the dark. Tell me, my Queen, did something happened between you and your brother Jaime. Because I’ll tell Robert about it.

Modern Reader appears right behind Cersei: “Lord Eddart Stark, I also realised that your children Sansa, Robb and Bran have ginger hair and not the dark hair like it supposed to. Starks have dark hair and Tully have ginger hair. Tell us, Lord Stark, did something happened between Lady Catelyn and her brother Edmure Tully? Are Sansa, Robb and Bran bastards?

Ned Stark:……

Modern Reader: “Do you realise that what you said was idiotic and insulting? I never thought that an HONORABLE man like you could say that.

Ned Stark starting to feel uncomfortable and he explains that all Baratheon children have dark hair. Meanwhile Modern Reader explains that the children have features of both of their parents, also Reader brings up children from House Baratheon that didn’t have dark hair, the reason why no one knows about it is because the children were daughters of the family. Modern Reader explains that Cersei had first child with dark hair, who unfortunately didn’t make it.

While Modern Reader explains Ned Stark about the facts and the genetics works and all. Yandere platonic Cersei is very thankful for Modern Reader for saving her and her children.

I’m not sure whether the first child survives or not, but I think Ned Stark with Jon Arryn wouldn’t have suspected anything, because the first child has Baratheon features and other children (Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen) just resemble their mother and that’s it. Also I think Modern Reader would know the truth, but won’t say it in order to protect her family. I guess after that explanation Ned Stark would probably live and he won’t die.

What do you think about it? I’d like to hear your thoughts. Imagine Ned’s reaction and probably Jaime’s

Ned notices reader, who is the protective mother chicken for Cersei who comes upon him.

Ned : 😳

Reader : 😡

This moment is sure to live. But reader will never let anyone insult his brothers. 😅🤣😂 I would like to see the shape of Ned's face. He had never imagined that his own family would be accused of incest and treason. I think Cersei and Robert's firstborn will survive. Thanks to the information that the reader knows, the baby is saved. Moreover, we know that Cersenin had Robert's baby aborted at least once. I think the reader will not allow it. So Cersei and Robert will have two children. Jaime collapses from laughter when he hears it. He laughs so much that he can't hold back his tears. Ned's face grows old as he can't see the forensic shape. Ned is shocked by what he hears. The questions directed against his family cause him to get angry. I think he understands that he shouldn't be buzzing anymore. The Crown Prince has the full Baratheon look anyway. Most likely, Ned won't die and there won't be any wars.

[hiatuswhore]

𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 — ɢᴏᴛ

A/n: So I am watching Game of Thrones for the first time and I always knew it would be an emotional commitment but damn. The Red Wedding put me in SHAMBLES. I know I’m super late to this fandoms but I’m currently on season six and could not get this fic out of my head until I wrote it. FEEDBACK please! So I’m gonna go watch some more episodes and then email therapist, thanks:)

SUMMARY: Oh to be young and in love. Foolish really, in the Game of Thrones there’s no room for love. Only life and death.

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNING: Season 3 spoilers and Season 4 spoilers.

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The cries that leave her lips are unlike anything Jon has ever heard from her before. He grabs her arms, steadying her as her legs wobble beneath her weight. The cry of the twins drowns into nothing as Jon listens to her sobs in his arms. Samwell coos at the children to ease their sorrow, but they mimic their mother.

“(Y/n), you must gather yourself for your children,” Jon says as she buries herself into his shoulder.

“They have every reason to weep. If anyone learns who they are, who I am, Jon you know we will never be left in peace,” The room stills as Samwell calms the children. His smile falters at (Y/n)’s words, the giggling of the children filling the silence, “Jon?”

He says nothing as he waits for her to speak. Instead, she stares at the twins for several seconds. Eddard’s eyes twinkle as he giggles at the sight of his mother but not his sister. Raina stares as if she understands the news her mother receives, the blue of her eyes and the pull of her eyebrows reminding the world of her father.

“Where’s his body? Where is Catelyn’s body?” Jon inhales sharply, his body tensing as (Y/n) observes him. He tries to assure her that she does not want to know, “Please. I will never get closure if I do not know.”

“They—“He takes a deep breath, glancing at the twins again. Robb shines in his daughter’s eyes as his son wears his gentle stare. Jon’s gaze shifts to (Y/n), pulling her into a sudden hug before he speaks, “They stripped Catelyn naked and threw her body in the river. Robb was beheaded, and they sewed Grey Wind’s head onto his body.”

(Y/n)’ s eyes flutter shut as she grips Jon tightly. The two say nothing as they hold each other. After seconds? Minutes? Hours? (Y/n) pulls back, her voice thick with tears, “Robb always did say I have a pesky habit of being right.”

“(Y/n), you’re back!” Arya rushes to her side, nearly tackling the transient to the ground. “How long are you staying this time? I’ve been practicing what you showed me with shooting arrows. If my father says yes, will you teach me swordplay and hunting like you?”

“Arya, slow down, (Y/n) just arrived, and you crowd her,” The young Stark girl pouts as Robb cuts her short.

“Quite frankly, it is you who crowds me,” (Y/n) crosses her arms, joining Arya’s side, who grins devilishly. Robb closes the space between himself and (Y/n), ignoring his younger sister entirely.

“The seconds I take my eye off of you, you find yourself gone by the fortnight usually less,” Robb says, flicking your necklace holding a Stark sigil pendant, “Nothing has changed. I still intend to marry you.”

His face mere inches from her, she ignores how Arya stomps away, grumbling about her brother. (Y/n) studies his features as she wets her lips with her tongue. Robb watches with his mouth ajar as his eyes focus on her lips. She leans in painstakingly slow with a smirk tugging at her mouth. The moment their lips meet, hers take his own fervently, and she pulls away without warning.

She speaks in an enchanting whisper, with Robb clinging to her presence, “We will never wed, my wolf.”

“You were going to marry. Robb loved you more than anything,” Jon runs his hand down her arm before retreating entirely.

“It does not matter. We did not, and now I raise bastards that the crown will want dead. Descendants of a traitor and usurper,” Eddard calls out Mama holding up his hand to show nothing but slobber and dirt. A weak smile takes her lips at her children, but tired eyes plague her.

“They are Starks, and so are you. Smart and Resilient. The grandchildren of the honorable Eddard Stark, the hand of the King. Son and daughter of Robb Stark, King of the North,” He watches as her eyes do not leave her children. Raina’s unwavering stare, just as intense as her mother's. (Y/n) chuckles wryly, looking off at nothing—her mind elsewhere.

“Are you going to marry my brother?” Sansa asks the second her mother leaves the room. (Y/n) laughs asking if all the Starks await her answer.

“Of course we do. You are perfect for each other; you must be together!” The young girl exclaims, unaware of how cold the real world can be. (Y/n) smiles softly, stuck between pitying and envying the beautiful young Stark.

“You love, love stories, Sansa?” The question pulls an enthusiastic nod from the young girl, “That is the thing, Sansa, they are only stories. Marrying your brother and becoming a Stark is a big decision. Much larger than just love.”

“But one day, you’ll be the Lady of Winterfell. You’ll make little Stark Lords and Ladies. You’ll be happy here,” Sansa’s hopeful smile spreads like a contagion. (Y/n) offers a weak smile, requesting a moment alone in her chambers. At the shut of her door, she stands in front of her mirror, hand on her necklace, allowing a long sigh to pass through her.

“What am I to do, Mother? What would you do?” Her hand on her necklace, running her finger over the pendant she added a few years back.

"I should have heard the advice I tried to teach Sansa. Love stories are merely stories,” She runs her hands over her face as Jon mulls over the past few years. He frowns, unable to phantom the thought of all she must have endured leading up to their reunion at Craster’s Keep. Jon’s sure she was not alone with her children, as she claims.

“You’re wrong,” His voice is low and gruff with a hint of a matter-of-fact tone as Samwell lulls the twins to sleep. She narrows her eyes at the stoic man with skepticism in his eyes.

“Not a chance Jon Snow lectures me on love,” She says, failing to see how Samwell quietly listens in.

“The last time I spoke to Robb, he grinned ear to ear after announcing the betrothal. When we all thought Theon had killed you I sent out a raven but I never heard back from Robb. People say he was devastated. Just because it ended in tragedy does not change the fact your story was one of love.”

She peeks up at Robb as he leans on his elbow, carefully tracing a finger down her spine. The fire and furs keep the room warm as the two lay bare and tangled. Robbs' eyebrows pull together, focusing intently.

“What is on the wolf's mind?” His traces halt before he meets her gaze, a smile painting his lips at the sight of her. The firelight makes her eyes shine, only adding to the features he already finds mesmerizing.

“My father is the hand of the King, so I must assume the responsibilities of Lord of Winterfell,” Robb speaks in a low hum as he studies her face. A sardonic smile takes her lips as a glint shines in her eyes.

“Oh no, Lord of Winterfell! The horror!” (Y/n) rolls away, giggling as Robb playfully grabs her. She struggles beneath his weight until his hands pin her wrists above her head. The following pause consists of heavy panting as she smiles at him. Robb’s smile softens as he catches his breath. The look in his eyes far different than his usual longing stares.

“Sansa is set to marry the Prince. Arya will likely marry some high Lord, and Jon is taking the black. Things are changing (Y/n). I want this, us. Lord and Lady Stark. One day Warden and Wardeness of the North,” Robb loosens his grip on her wrists as he near begs. (Y/n) made sure to steer clear during the arrival of the King and his family. The King, Lord Stark, and the girls were set to leave for Kings Landing and Jon for Castle Black in the morning.

“Why are you so certain in us?” She speaks barely above a whisper as Robb joins her, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Because I know you, and I can make you happy. A simple life in Winterfell. Name a better match than us,” He challenges, saying his parents' names; the two of you chuckle quietly. The two falling quiet as she imagines the life Robb envisions for her in the North.

She does not dwell on the matter for long; staring up at the ceiling at his side, she cannot deny enjoying his presence. (Y/n) breaks the silence with amusement lacing her tone, “Your family is going to kill us for announcing this just before everyone leaves.”

Robb's head snaps in her direction as if she will disappear when he takes his eyes off her. She bites back her lower lip to reel in the giant smile that threatens her features. It takes Robb a few seconds to process her words before he cups her face. He grins like a madman as he captures her lips into a hasty kiss.

“Let’s marry with all your family in attendance,” She breathes in between kisses as he smothers her with his own lips.

“Our family,” He murmurs against her mouth as she places a gentle hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“You’re rather eager,” She teases; leaning close, he studies her thoroughly. Before holding a mocking tone and wide smile that glimmers in the low light, “We have a very serious responsibility of creating little Lords and Ladies of Winterfell.”

“Oh really?” Her playful smirk and soft chuckle erase all worries of the Starks heading to King's Landing.

“Of course, my Lady. When we have a girl, we shall name her Raina after your mother,” His words make her smile falter, her hand shooting to her necklace, “When she gets older, you can pass your necklace to her.”

“And if we have a boy?” Her eyes mist over as she covers with a gentle smile at his excitement.

“When we have a boy, little Robb Stark, will be second of his name!” Robb’s eyes twinkle as she rolls her own.

“Absolutely not,” She says, rolling to her opposite side, back facing the smirking Stark. He carefully kisses the crook of her neck, journeying up to the shell of her ear. His voice low and raspy, “I’m not done with you yet, Lady Stark.”

The door flying open makes the three rise to their feet. Ser Allister yells at Jon and Samwell that the Wildlings are coming. (Y/n) lifts the twins quickly, managing to not rouse them from their slumber, her sword dangling on her hip.

“Follow me. You can stay with Gilly and Little Sam,” Samwell says cheerily despite the circumstances as Robb exits the room first. Samwell follows behind Jon, and she walks behind them both. At the touch of the crisp North air, (Y/n) pulls the twins a little closer to her chest. She expertly navigates, walking downstairs, holding the two without looking down. At the bottom, Samwell turns left as Jon turns right, leaving (Y/n) to stare at Jon’s retreating figure. Her voice almost catches in her throat before she manages to call out his name. Jon halts, turning to find her staring with furrowed eyebrows and misty eyes.

“I—I can’t take another loss. Truly I am drained.” Her voice wavers as Raina snuggles further into her shoulder. She blinks back tears as Jon approaches her with a look she cannot figure out in his eyes.

“I’ll return to you soon. I promise,” Jon runs his hand gently over Eddard's face. The boy leans into the touch, blissfully unaware of the severity of the situation. (Y/n)’s face pales at his words as she fails to get insight on what the only other person she has left thinks.

“Robb made the same promise. I never saw him again,” Jon meets her weary gaze, sighing deeply at his promise. A promise that can very well be empty, one he cannot guarantee, at the sound of yelling from above marks the end of the conversation. Jon shakes off her words as ensuring she and her children not dying at the hand of Wildings becomes a top priority. Jon leaves her without another word, disregarding the haunted look in her eyes as she watches him walk away. Her eyes linger in his direction for several seconds before Samwell pulls her away.

(Y/n) sits with Brandon on his bed. Her days consist of helping Robb keep Winterfell afloat with both Lord and Lady Stark gone. Besides that, she spends her day keeping the little Lords company. The days seem almost ethereal as if (Y/n) and Robb hold all the happiness in the world.

Like a smokescreen before destruction, word of Lord Stark's arrest brings a halt to (Y/n) and Robb's domestic fantasy. She says nothing as Robb says goodbye to Brandon first. Waiting outside the door, she fidgets with her sleeve. Robb steps out of his brother’s room in full armor, appearing at ease.

“Let me come with you. You’ve seen me with a sword. You know I can handle myself,” (Y/n) pleas, stepping closer to him. He kisses her as if she’s made of glass taking her hands in his own. She sighs as he rubs patterns with his thumb on her palm.

“Exactly why I need you here with Bran and Rickon. In my absence, I gave word that my betrothed is the Lady of Winterfell to aid Bran. So when I return with my father and sisters, we will wed that very night,” The optimism in his tone does little to curb the uneasiness that boils in her chest. He moves to turn down the corridor, but she holds his hands a little tighter. A chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls her into another kiss, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” She mutters, and he smiles, saying the three words he has told her since they were small children.

“Don’t worry. I’ll return soon. I promise,” Robb says, walking with him to the gate. She lingers back as Robb and Theon speak. Grey Wind whines at her hand, begging her to pet his head which she obliges, muttering for the dire wolf to bring Robb home. At the sight of Robb climbing onto his horse, her mouth dries. Grey Wind runs toward the gates ahead of Robb, who slows and looks back. She wants to say something, anything really, but she does not. Robb flashes her a hopeful smile before riding off. She watches the gates long after Robb disappears from sight, unaware of what he takes with him and all he leaves behind.

[nerajaana]

ARYA STARK VALENTINE’S DAY CHALLENGE

|| Day Three: Headcanon ||

306 A.C- Prince Aegon, son of the disinherited Hand of the King Rhaegar chose to marry not his sister but his half brother Jon Waters and his lady cousin, the she wolf of Winterfell, Arya Stark who’s said to resemble her aunt Lyanna Stark to an uncanny degree leaving the Seven Kingdoms shocked beyond measure.

[residentzero2028]

So, I got into game of thrones a month ago, and while I was snooping around in the Fandom, I discovered an interesting ship Ned and cersei. When I found out about this ship, my mind bombarded me with ideas like the one I'm about to tell ya'll now. Though Ned and cersei have been married for a few months, Cersei is still adjusting to her life in winterfell, northern customs, her marriage to ned, being away from jamie, and the cold climate. One day, while hunting in the woods, ned finds a wolf pup abandoned by its mother. Ned decides to bring the wolf pup home as a gift to cersei but that obviously doesn't go too well at first. Over time cersei warms up to the little wolf pup, that she names lady, and carries her around wherever she goes. Until she gets bigger that is lol. Imma write this fic one day after i finish my limitless pile of WIPS. 😣😣😣😣

[wolfmxther]

tags.

x. visage ; a maid as red as autumn with sunset in her hair

x. musing ; give me cersei lannister and you will see how gentle a woman can be

x. aesthetics ; the terrible fire of old regret is honey on my tongue

x. threads ; i do not frighten easily

x. answered ; i want to weep

x. house tully ; family duty honor

x. house stark ; winter is coming

x. eddard stark ; not my hair. ned loves my hair

x. robb stark ; king in the north

x. sansa stark ; she will grow into a woman far more beautiful

x. bran stark ; wouldn’t it surprise her to see you ahorse

x. arya stark ; as wild and willful as herself

x. rickon stark ; the small wolf howled for his pack

x. prompts ; always open

[aelenavelaryon]

Robert Baratheon x Reader (pt.2)

Summary: in which the Queen gets her revenge on her husband

The return of dragons came to a surprise for the realm. It was unexpected yet a blessing, especially for Rhaenyra. Finally, dragons returned to the world. Robert was not on board with having them in King's Landing at first but after watching Rhaenyra be happy after the loss of their child he agreed. Robert, despite marrying her without love came to enjoy her company as the two enjoyed making children.

Rhaenyra choose to let her dragons roamed free in a place where they were all away from people, to avoid harming innocent people. Prince Daemon was born in the year 283, near the end of the year. His brother Orys came days after his first name day in 284. In the year 286 came the twins, Aemon and Aemond. Just a year later in 287 she lost a child, it was then that Dragons were reborn.

By 290, Rhaenyra's dragons had grown a lot. The year prior they disappeared and when they returned they were the size of an adult dragon. So, for the first time in centuries a Targaryen finally took to the skies on dragonback. Balerion, the dragon she rode flew her to a part of the Keep that was abandoned and where he kept dragons eggs.

Rhaenyra brought Dragon Keepers to the Keep to help with the dragons and their eggs. The eggs, which were enough to give to each one of her children and brother, were kept warm and ready in the children's room. Finally, after five years of trying for a daughter, a girl finally came. Well, more like two. Rhaena and Helaena came during the summers of 290. By then, her children all had dragons eggs. Prince Daemon had claimed Caraxes, while his brother's hatched their eggs. Orys named his Eros. Aemon named his Moonfyre and Aemond named his Meraxes. Princess Rhaena and Helaena's dragon eggs hatched the same day of their birth.

King Robert threw a feast in honor of their first name day. By then, queen Rhaenyra had given him four sons and two daughters. Princess Rhaena was said to be as wild and defiant as her mother in her youth. Rhaena had the Targaryen hair and eyes, while her twin, princess Helaena had black hair and blue eyes like his father but she was as quiet and calm as her late grandmothers, queen Rhaella and Lady Cassana Baratheon. Robert was a decent king who took the input of his queen. They had a quiet a decent marriage.

Since the day they married Robert kept to his wife's and his own chambers. He slept with no other woman that was not his wife. Some had said he changed for the better and Eddard Stark could attest to that. Rhaenyra's life was good. She had no worries. Everything was just perfect.

The news reached her a few weeks later. Robert Baratheon had slept with Cersei Lannister or so she claimed. Cersei was a girl of three and twenty. She was yet to be married as her father hadn't found her a good match yet. Rhaenyra when she heard said nothing. Robert even thought she hadn't heard but she had. She knew, thanks to her little birds that Jaime was Cersei's lover. So, her plan was to take Jaime from Cersei. It was her goal to make him loyal to her.

Her plan began the very next day. She had asked Robert for a new guard. Stating that with six children it was better for them and her to have extra security. The king agreed. She smiled and acted as if nothing was happening. When Cersei was forced to move the keep by her father's order, Rhaenyra was forced to confront her husband.

Robert entered their shared chambers. "Nyra" she looked away. Rhaenyra was two and twenty. She had given her husband six children. She never complained nor did she cause him any problems. She simply did her duty, ever the dutiful her mother used to say. "I have never asked anything of you, nor have I ever caused you trouble or any problems. I have stood by you for the last seven years. I married you despite everything. I am no saint, nor have I ever been. I brought a son into a marriage that was not yours. You loved him and took care of him as if he was your own. And in return I gave your four sons with your blood and two daughters with your blood" there was a brief silence. "Where our children not enough?" she asked. "Was I not enough?" she asked.

Rhaenyra had never been insecure. How could she? She was a Targaryen, their beauty seemed to be god like and now, with her dragon being a god seemed far more possible than before. "I love you, Robert. But I will not be the person you treat like a common whore. If Cersei gives you a bastard child I will give you one too. And if she gives you another so will I" she said. Robert was too stunned to speak. She gave him on chance to speak before she left their shared chambers, Arthur and Jaime following behind.

Rhaenyra knew Cersei's greatest love was Jaime, and she rarely even allowed him to wonder far from her. Jaime didn't mind, watching over her gave him some sort of relief as he felt guilty for killing her father years back. He also wanted to keep her safe as he could not keep Elia and her children. Jaime was also avoiding his sister, as much as she would try to find him but he would walk the other way or ignore her pleas to talk. Over the months the good relationship between the queen and king perished in the blink of an eye. King Robert returned to his drunken and whoring ways.

Cersei Lannister gave birth to a son who she named Joffrey Baratheon, a boy with black hair and green eyes, he seemed to be all his father but the eyes. A year later, in the year 292, queen Rhaenyra gave birth to a son, a boy she named Rhaegar Targaryen and a daughter who she named Rhaella. The boy had blonde white hair. His eyes were the same eyes of princess Alyssa Targaryen, wife of Baelon Targaryen. One green eye and purple. Her daughter, princess Rhaella had a her grandmother's looks. Ser Jaime Lannister was the first one to hold his two children. A little princeling he used to call him and his little baby girl. Jaime and Rhaenyra were the ones who picked the names.

Robert knew but he said nothing as the guilt of returning to his old habits returned. Prince Jacaerys came four years after his sisters, then, a year after him came Lucerys. Princess Rhaenyra had always loved those names and had always wanted to name one of her sons like them. Prince Jacaerys had dark brown hair and purple eyes, his brother Lucerys was just like his brother. Queen Rhaenyra bore thirteen children at the short age of thirty. Her last two children were girls. Daughters. Visenya and Daenerys, daughters of Ser Arthur Dayne.

Eddard Stark never married, instead he served his queen Rhaenyra his entire life. And of course he took care of their two sons. Ned had became her closest companion alongside Arthur and Jaime Lannister. She had no other allies at court but them. At least, she didn't trust anyone else but them. Cersei gave Robert three more children. Tommen, Myrcella and Joanna but they were known as bastards since they were not married.

On the queen's name day, a thirtieth name day celebration was made in her honor. Every house in the realm attended, including Dorne, Driftmark and the North. By then, Prince Jaehaerys was nearly six and ten, Daemon was five and ten, Orys three and ten, Aemon and Aemond were one and ten, Helaena and Rhaena were eight, Rhaegar and Rhaella were nearly six, Jacaerys was four, prince Lucerys three and his sisters had just turned one.

Queen Rhaenyra, despite birthing thirteen children looked far better than most, she was grateful, she also took care great of her figure, she wanted to preserve herself as much as she could. Robert knew that seven of those children where not his. Jaehaerys had been claimed as a Targaryen despite Tywin's insistence to keep him as a bastard. Rhaenyra did not wish for her son to bear the name Baratheon or Stark. Brandon had written to her often wanting to know about his son but he not once had asked for the boy to visit him nor to be claimed as a Stark. She knew Catelyn did not like the idea of Brandon's bastard sons being in their home and possible taking Robb's birthright.

During the Queen's name day celebration things are said and revenge is plotted. They say when you play the game of thrones you win or you die, there is no middle ground. Queen Rhaenyra is going to win, no matter what. The question is, will she succeed or will she fail?

[amber-laughs]

Ned and Lyanna's Pale Blue Roses

There is so much yet to be revealed from the Tower of Joy but the most notable missing detail is Jon Snow himself. He has no place in Ned’s memory of Lyanna’s death. Ned explicitly says only he and Howland Reed left the Tower of Joy alive that day, but we know this can’t be true. They left the tower with another living breathing human being and Ned knows that too. So what gives?

“I might mention, though, that Ned's account, which you refer to, was in the context of a dream... and a fever dream at that. Our dreams are not always literal.” - George R.R. Martin. Not only that but Ned himself admits there is much he simply blacked out from “They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Ned could recall none of it.”

and may I remind you “A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness” A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV 

I think Ned’s mind, through his trauma, grief and determination to leave the past behind, has altered his memories. I think Ned has mentioned Jon almost everytime he mentions the scene in the tower. I think Jon is the blue rose petals from Ned’s memories.

"Eddard!" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death. A Game of Thrones - Eddard X 

If Lyanna’s voice was as damaged as Ned claims “The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper” and yet he could hear her calling for him, surely he could hear a baby crying. Surely Ned knew the Kingsguard would never let him, a rebel whose cause had just murdered Aegon and Rhaenys in cold blood, anywhere near Rhaegar’s last living son. So as Jon’s cries blow across the blood streaked sky Ned knows what comes next.

“The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black.” A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

So was Jon just lying on the floor of the tower? He had to have been somewhere? His mother’s arms? Until her muscles gave out and fell to the bed she laid on maybe.

“But Jon isn’t dead, the rose petals are dead.” True but the petals Ned claims he saw in the wind weren’t dead either. Jon Snow isn’t dead but Lyanna’s son is. He never existed. Rhaegar’s children are all dead. Only Ned Stark’s bastard remains.

"The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna." Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

Cersei is currently speaking of Lyanna but make no mistake, this conversation is wrapped around Jon Snow. 

Ned thought, If it came to that, the life of some child I did not know, against Robb and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon, what would I do? Even more so, what would Catelyn do, if it were Jon's life, against the children of her body? He did not know. He prayed he never would. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

He doesn’t list Jon with his biological children but Ned’s saying he’d react with the same paternal instinct and, unlike Catelyn, he wouldn’t save them at the expense of Jon. That’s why he shifts to it to her, she’s the unknown variable in this. Ned doesn’t need to wonder because he’s already done it. He’s chosen Jon’s safety for fifteen years knowing the Starks could be executed over his secret.

What do you take me for? You've a bastard of your own, I've seen him. Who was the mother, I wonder? Some Dornish peasant you raped while her holdfast burned? A whore? Or was it the grieving sister, the Lady Ashara? She threw herself into the sea, I'm told. Why was that? For the brother you slew, or the child you stole? Tell me, my honorable Lord Eddard, how are you any different from Robert, or me, or Jaime?" "For a start," said Ned, "I do not kill children. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

Cersei asks a few questions here that in large boil down to “Who is your bastard’s mother?” Ned’s only response is “I do not kill children.” He’s given her his answer. Probably the most answer honest he ever gave about Jon. All he wants to do for Cersei is keep her children from the same fate as Rhaegar’s. He’s done it successfully once before, that his blueprint here. But of course he won’t allow his mind to go there. He never dwells on Jon’s parentage, not even in the privacy of his own mind. “(…) and he whispered Lyanna." Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep.” He thinks of pale blue roses, of the innocent children at stake. Of the death of his sister and how she died and he wants to weep.

The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. "Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XIII

They are angry with him, the Kings of Winter, Lyanna, there is something he didn’t do. In Jon’s own dreams it’s the Kings of Winter he sees on his way to his mother’s grave. They try to tell him. They scream he’s not a Stark, they want him to know just as much as she does. Her pale blue roses still haunt him while she cries for the promises they both know he can no longer keep. When he slept, he dreamed: dark disturbing dreams of blood and broken promises. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

Ned Stark reached out his hand to grasp the flowery crown, but beneath the pale blue petals the thorns lay hidden. He felt them clawing at his skin, sharp and cruel, saw the slow trickle of blood run down his fingers, and woke, trembling, in the dark. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

For certain only Ned and Howland Reed knew the truth. A good argument for Benjen, who Ned’s heard is dead beyond the Wall. No he’ll never tell Jon the truth no matter how much he wants now wants to, “The thought of Jon filled Ned with a sense of shame, and a sorrow too deep for words. If only he could see the boy again, sit and talk with him…”  Secrets hidden beneath pale blue petals never to be revealed. 

[perkqularkreashions]

Take the Black |Sandor X Reader|

Part One: Unconditional

I know this doesn't follow the plot exactly, but just roll with it. So, I had some suggestions from mutuals to lowkey make it a Jamie X Reader for her survival... What y'all think?

WARNINGS: unwarranted affection [kissing without consent], Jamie projecting his trauma on the reader, mentions of murder, murder [Ned Stark], SMUT [wrap it up!], Joffrey being Joffrey

AS ALWAYS CHECK YOUR TRIGGERS.

You hated the fresh smell of the air, the cool wind wrapping around you softly, brushing against your exposed skin. You spent many days in the library running your fingers against the spines of the books, taking hold of one in secret as you shoved them into your sack. Books that you read underneath the moonlight, books that only slightly drove your mind away from the King's landing, your father, your sisters, and Sandor. You missed your home, the chilled walls of Winterfell dragging you in as you roamed through, your fingers intertwined with Theon’s in secret, your head resting against his shoulder as he spoke of nonsense. You would just listen; you missed the simplicity of life, and now everything seems muddled with confusion and Lannisters. 

You gasped as you felt a hand wrapped against your upper arm, tugging you away from another book that would soon be a part of your collection. Your eyes followed the man; Ser Jamie stood tall before you. The brightness of his hair reflected in the illuminating sun, his hair mimicking gold. His touch softens in the realization of who you are. His lips play in a soft smile as he watches you, taking in your soft, doe-like features—the surprise written on your face, the paleness of your face, and the claminess of your hands. “So you’re our book thief. For months, you have evaded all the guards.” Jamie was impressed; it was a harmless crime and brought no real attention to the drunken King’s radar. He slurred out a command and had Eddard follow up on the missing books. “Intelligent little wolf,” Jamie hummed in thought; he let out, causing you to stumble back; you hadn’t realized that you had placed all your weight against him. 

You reminded him of Cersei in her youth, not physically but mentally, the way you chewed on your lips when in deep thought. The way you studied people intently before answering. But you weren’t like Cersei, were you? You were kinder and spoke with a gentleness when you spoke with him. Maybe he was attracted to the thought of you possibly being Cersei. Jamie thought about you often; maybe he was projecting his traumatizing relationship with Cersei onto your budding relationship. Jamie sighed for a moment, deep in thought. 

Your voice broke him out, “Just…a little entertainment for myself these days. The castle grows boring,” Jamie hummed, his fingers dancing along the book's spine. The words slightly faded, and the book would crumble at the touch. The pages are a brittle brown color. 

“Entertainment in the decrepit ?” he raised his brow, watching you closely. A nervous laugh escaped your lips, and you clutched the book tighter against your stomach, your hands strumming against your sides, the anxiety cementing in your stomach as you nodded. “I see.” Jamie didn’t take his eyes off you, examining all your features, the strongness of your brow, the silverness of your eyes, the darkness of your hair, and your slim face. You reminded him of Eddard, Bran, and even Jon. Despite your femininity, you were a spitting image of your father; no trace of your mother itched its way on your face. His hand gently grabbed a strand of hair, pushing it away from your face, his thumb tracing against your cheek to the tip of your chin. You were boyish and lanky but held a certain beauty. “Tell me, wolf, what amuses you then?” 

“The cold,” you quickly responded; Jamie let out a laugh, a genuine laugh, something that he hadn’t felt in so long. It was unusual for someone not to find something that piqued their interest in the King’s Landing, whoring, welding, swordsmanship, ladyship, or lordship. Sansa wanted to be a princess, Arya wanted to be a swordsman, more or less, and yet you had no place in King’s Landing. “I miss my pup; surely Robb knows nothing of Luan,” Jamie hummed once more as he watched you closely. 

“I see,” silence washed over you both; it was comfortable. You bowed gently, trying to walk past him. He grabs your arm, “Be careful, little wolf, it’s dangerous here at night.” His grab loosened, allowing you to walk away, stuffing the book in your sack. You walked back to your room, your thoughts muddled with the handsome knight, his tall brow, and the subtleness of his lips. He was more gentle than you remember him to be. You recall your passing moments with the knight at Winterfell, rarely staying for the festivities but always within reach from Cersei if needed. Your eyes stumbled ahead, watching the maidens move around you, whispering gently before returning to their task. The knights march about, hands placed on their swords for comfort. 

𓃥𓃦𓃨

As the days stumbled into night, you had seen less of your father and sisters; you’d been confined in your room, your nose nuzzled in a book. You were carefully absorbing every word, noun, verb, and sentence. Slamming your book shut, your eyes flickered to the door. You sat against Sandor’s chest; he had been sleeping for the past couple of hours—he spent his stolen spare time with you in flights of passing moments, reading a book, fucking, or simply lying together on the terrace. His snores lightly salting the air as he adjusted against you. You had started to read the novel to him, but he cursed, waving his hand about in proclamation. “Aye, I would’ve stayed with the Imp if I wanted to hear someone read.” 

“Tyrion.” you corrected as you passed a glance out the side of your eye. He scoffed, rolling his eyes for a moment. “His name is Tyrion.”

Sandor fixed himself against you once more, taking his hand and wrapping it against your waist, tugging you closer, his lips close to your ears, breathing out gently. Shivering, you relaxed against him. He didn’t say anything, though you knew he would make some idiotic remark about you correcting him on another man sooner rather than later. Arya made her way closer as she hesitantly stepped in. She calls out your name softly before shouting it more confidently. 

“Out here,” you finally responded, Arya's face drained of color as she rushed to you. Her hands shakingly moved to your wrist, yanking you into a hug. You could feel her tremble against you as she silently whispered your name. “Arya, what’s wrong?” 

“Dad, they took Dad away. Sansa… I don’t know– something is going on,” she whispered; you nodded, unsure of what to make of this information or how to react. You needed to find Sansa. You pulled her away, your eyes watching over her. You whispered, “Go pack your things, stay calm and easy.” Hesitantly, she nodded, your hands resting against her shoulder as she moved away. Sandor grabbed your arm, his face filled with worry, tightening his grip as he tugged you closer. He slammed his lips against yours, which you now take as his way of kissing. You flinched as your teeth bagged against your gums, and you poked your lips drastically, allowing his deformed ones to mold into yours. He pulled away, your bodies still close, as he looked down at you. “You find the girl, and you come back here. If there is any trouble, you come back here. Aye?” You nodded.

Now, you set out to find Sansa. You held your head high as you moved through the corridors, eying everyone who passed without saying a word. Her door was guarded; you watched the men for a moment; their eyes remained forward as they watched those who passed. 

You gasped softly as you felt a hand grab at yours, yanking you back into a secluded corner. Your chest slammed against your chest as your body was pressed against the chilling wall. Your eyes fell against the Lannister Knight, who eyed you suspiciously—a soft smile toying on his lips. You felt a sense of relief wash over you, something you didn’t know you could feel when next to a Lannister. “What is going on?” was all you could whisper out, your hands trembling as you reached for his elbow. “Where is my father… why are there guards outside of my sister’s chambers?” He stared at you, nothing being spoken between the two, your breath smacking against the air as your chest heaved with each passing moment. 

“He is going to die.” You felt lightheaded; you could feel yourself falling and slipping as your grip tightened against him. His hand wrapped against your waist, keeping you as you rested against him. 

“Take me to him,” you begged, your voice barely escaping. “Please,” Jamie didn’t like to admit, but you reminded him of an innocent Cersei if she ever was to be. The softness of your voice, your gentle touch, the way your lips parted when you spoke, and the way your eyes held so much and yet so little emotion. Jamie moved away from you, keeping his hand on your waist as he nodded. He moved away from you, and you quickly followed behind him; the more you traveled, the colder it began. The darkness surrounded you every few feet; the torches would burn bright until they dimmed behind you. You stayed close to the knight, praying he would protect you if anything unsavory happened. You entered a long, narrowing hallway, one torch placed directly beside the stoned cell and one small window in the uppermost corner of the dungeon. Jamie’s head motions, and you follow, moving slightly as you dip your head slightly to look closely into the cells. 

You paused, seeing a man hunched on a bed of straw; his head pressed against the stone wall as he sucked in a deep breath. His face was only slightly revealed by the torch.

“Father!” you whispered, stumbling to the ground as he grabbed your hands. His face sunken in as he pressed his head against yours, thankful. “Are you—what is going on?” His eyes weakly moved to Jamie, holding his gaze as Jamie watched over you for a moment. Before moving his attention ahead of him, his hand gripping the sword’s pommel, shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath. He knew you had a few moments before someone would catch you in here; he was not afraid of the consequences for himself; just the thought of being at odds with Cersei was motivating enough not to be down here. Your hand gently rubbed at your father’s face, trembling at the sight. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“You do nothing.” He spoke, his voice calm and confident. “Keep your sisters safe; know I always love you, my wild wolf.”  He pulls away, sinking into the darkness. You felt Jamie’s hand on your upper arms, tugging you up gently. You were stunned, your eyes widening as you gently shook your head. Your mouth gaping open, your throat swelling emotions as your mouth soon became dry. You didn’t have anything to say; you wanted to scream at him– you wanted the truth about why he was here. You found yourself on your feet, leaning against Jamie as he escorted you out of the holding cell, the fresh air overwhelming you, and bile soon rose in your throat. You swallowed thickly before snatching yourself away from him. 

“You will be the safest with your sister; for the moment, she has Joffrey’s favor,” Jamie spoke behind you, his voice muddled in the daze that rushed over your mind, the haze that clouded you. You spun around, eyes low and drained of emotion. Jamie was stunned, his mouth slightly gaped open as he watched you. He quickly recovered, shutting his mouth as he tried to find the right words. He hated–no loathed Eddard Stark, they contrasted–their values and beliefs vastly differed. Eddard knew from Jamie felt like the deepest part of him had been unearthed, and he dishonored him. Jamie grew frustrated. You finally look at him, taking him in. Your lips never said a word, but your eyes spoke for you. He felt vulnerable, the only kind that he felt with Cersei; she stripped him bare and made him feel worthless but loved. He grabbed your shoulders, yanking you closer to him as he pressed his lips harshly against yours. 

You remained frozen, eyes widening as you watched him, the harshness of his breath fanning against your upper lip. His hands tighten around your shoulders, bringing you closer. Jamie pulled back; his chest riled with emotions as he watched you closely, taking in your features—the redness of your cheeks to the salvia dripping on your bottom lip. You were the second woman he had kissed other than Cersei; he stumbled back, the emotions weighing on him. “Accept my sincerest apologies,” Jamie mumbled. You nodded, unsure of what to say or how to feel. 

Now, you both walked silently, your hands resting in front of you as he escorted you to Jamie’s room. Eyes washing over you both, taking in the scene. You felt his hand gently grab your arm as you reached Sansa’s chambers. “Stay safe, Lady Stark.”

𓃥𓃦𓃨

Here you sat confined with Sansa, Lilly, and Jeyne Poole; the girls' faces were puffy from crying. You watched as Sansa stumbled to button the dresses. Sansa begged and pleaded with everyone who came into the room, face flushing with emotions as she begged to speak with the Queen and Joffrey. “Please, Please, I need to speak with the Queen! Prince Joffrey! It is important! She will want to see me! I know it!”  You groaned as they flushed out of the room, leaving you with a sobbing Jeyne, a frantic Sansa, and an aggressive Lilly. Sansa looked at you, eyes full of despair and desperation. She tugged on her bottom lip, tears streaming down her face. She wept, colliding with her older sister. 

“It’s okay,” you mumbled against her head. “Well, see father soon and gone from this hellish place.” she nodded against your bosoms, not genuinely believing your words… and neither did you. Night fell upon Kings Landing quickly; you grew irritated with the weeping of Jeyne and Sansa. She stirred in her sleep, mumbling of Joffrey. She cuddled into your side, smiling gently at the comfort she hadn’t felt since she had been there. She wanted so badly to be back home with her mother, brothers, and sisters back in the coldness of Winterfell. You finally could lull yourself asleep, dreaming of home and Sandor. 

Ser Boros burst through the doors, awakening the girls with fright. You stared at him, taking in his features. He was a short man with broad shoulders and stubby legs. His hair was grey and thinning. Sansa greeted him with a smile, bowing gently as she approached him. “You look handsome this morning, Ser Boros.” You stood behind her, watching the knight flush at the compliment before escorting them back to the Queen. You admitted you were nervous to see her; you hated being in her presence. It was heavy and full of darkness. You sucked on your bottom for a moment chewing off the dead skin. Finally arriving at the royal chambers, you watched Cersai at the head of the table. 

Ser Boros bowed, “I brought the girls.” Your heart rushed excitedly as you could climb through your throat, yet you remained stoic. Lord Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle, and Lord Varys were dressed in black at the table. So the king is dead. 

Cersai grew a smile on her lips; you thought of it as feigned and full of mischievous. The smile did reach her eyes. “Sansa. My sweet girl.” Sansa smiled in pleasure; she watched the Queen; she thought it was the sweetest smile she had seen. “I do apologize for not seeing you sooner; things have been unsettling–I trust my people have taken care of you…both.” her eyes flicker to you as you stand still, soaking in her words. 

Sansa said politely, bowing. “Thank you for asking; everyone has been pleasant.” Their attention turns to you, waiting for you to sing the praises of her gracious treatment. You remained emotionless, eyes glaring at Cersei. The conversation droned on, Sansa frantic in concern for the steward girl and her father. You hated the feeling that her anxiety gave you.

“Sit down,” Cersei finally pronounced, patting a chair directly to her left. “ I want to talk to both of you.’ You stayed where you were, not being able to move your feet as you felt dread course through your body. Cersei’s eyes flickered to yours, a harsh expression taking hold of her face before softening. Cersei’s attention turned back to Sansa, who was laying a soft hand on her wrist and speaking. 

“I do hope you know I love you, and so does Joffrey.” Her eyes lit up, her positioning straightening as she leaned closer to her, grasping every word. 

“You do!” The queen nods as she continues spinning gold yarn for Sansa. Her words are calculated and precise, knowing what exactly to say to manipulate the young Stark. You knew Cersei was a witch, something never to be trifled with. Her power and presence weighed more than Robert’s. Her actions were cunning, meticulous, and precise with her words—also ten steps ahead of everyone else. 

“Your father is a traitor,” Vary’s words cut through your thoughts as you tried breathing, your fingers clenching at your side as you pushed out shallow and sharp breaths. “He is a traitor to the crown; he has besmirched the name of King Joffrey. Claiming that he is not the rightful heir to the throne.” You became dizzy and faint, wanting to reach the table and grasp on it. They were going to kill him; that is why he was in the cell, decaying as he awaited punishment. Jamie knew that’s why he took you to see him—one last time. You were also warned of the dangers of speaking against the Lannisters, constantly wary of making one wrong move in front of them. They watched the weak but always preyed on the strong. You swallowed thickly, watching them continue. 

“I am not like Arya.” Sansa blurted, capturing your attention, “She is of traitor’s blood! I am good. Obedient! I only want to serve Joffrey, to be loyal to the throne and him!” Cersei wickedly smiled, watching you for a moment; Baelish and Vary's attention was now on you. You straighten your posture, tightening your trembling lip as you observe them. 

“What of you? Mm? Little wolf?” Baelish questioned, his eyes running down your body. You wanted to cower away in fear, run into her father’s arm, and wish him to protect you. But you were grown– a woman now. You hand to stand on your own. “You look like your father, dark and brooding. Dark wild hair like your father. Eyes as hard as a stone, just like your fathers’, Unlike your sister, who is a spitting image of Cat when she was her age. You are the twin of the proclaimed “King of the North.” He continues; you watched the Grand Maester tug at his beard in thought. You remained silent, unable to form any words. Sansa tried to speak for you, Cersei shushing, comforting her in the thought that she needn’t speak more. “Are you of traitor’s blood?” 

“I wish to see my father.” Was all you muster out, yet your voice was stern and commanding. Baelish stared at you for a moment, chuckling at the sight. “If he is what you call a traitor, then I wish to know for myself.”

“Do you not believe me?” Cersei begins, and Sansa shakes her head rapidly. 

“That’s not what she’s-”

“No, I don’t, and I would like to hear it from my father,” You commanded, sternly looking at her, watching her cat-like eyes churn with an unrecognizable emotion. She sat back, turning her attention back to Sansa. 

“No. You will not. Is that understood?” Cersei commanded, her posture straightened and her eyes a dancing sage color. You found no words, found nothing to object to her decree. You stood there emotionless. With no further acknowledgment, you looked down, fighting back the tears and the rage that built-in you. “If you don’t trust my word, what are you to trust?”

“The devil, preferably,” you whispered as you sucked in a deep breath, masking your words as her eyes snapped towards you.

𓃥𓃦𓃨

Months have passed, and Jamie has only taken to see your father two more times. You begged him to help you free him—to speak with Joffrey and Cersei, but he remained silent. You marveled at your efforts but knew that they were futile. He would confess his sins and take the black. Cersei had soon caught on to this, whispering of Lady Stark and Jamie Lannister. Anger pitted in her stomach as she assigned one of her ladies to gather intel. She was never too far from you, her eyes catching every glance at Jamie and turning at you. The whispers in secluded corners, your hands grabbing at his, pulling him close. Jamie never pulled away, sinking into your warmness. He knew that you were using him, just as Cersei was. But you were different…sincere. But soon Jamie left, taking all the chances of Ned escaping with him; he was off to fight the war against your twin, Robb. You prayed that Jamie would day at the hands of your brother, his sword taking his life as he looks up for his last moments. He wouldn’t see his family, but he would see Robb and prayerfully see you. 

𓃥𓃦𓃨

You were excited for this day, for your father to take the black and your sisters to escape back to Winterfell. You wrote to Robb secretly, updating him on the little things in the code; you sent a trusted guard from Winterfell who rode with you. Soon, those letters would stop as the Royal Guard intercepted them; Cersei would drag you into the throne room, her hands holding the letters in fury. Her lips pursed in anger as she watched you, waiting for you to tell the truth. She waited for you to repent and beg for forgiveness just as Sansa did, but she knew you weren’t like Sansa. You were silent and studied the room before speaking; your brows furrowed in thought before relaxing. It was hard to read you; it was hard for anyone to read you. Cersei knew punishing you would damage what had been damaged, so she dismissed you, keeping her guards around you at all hours of the day and night, ensuring that you were not planning a coup of her authority.

You snapped back to reality; you stared at the bell as it toweled, echoing through your body, signaling you to follow the crowd; you wandered, pushing through as emptiness settled in your stomach. Your eyes landed on your father. He was dressed in a rich grey-colored doublet with a white woven on his shoulder. He was thinner, his face sunken in and eyes shrouded with darkness, given that it had been roughly three months since you had seen your figure as much. All he had to do was confess; he would spared. Your heart filled with terror as he spoke confidently, his words carrying into the wind. Sansa whimpered as they shouted obscenities and taunted him. He would take the Black and be reunited with Jon; he would be alive, and you would be rid of this place. He would take the black. 

“My mother… bids me to let Lord Eddard take the black! Sansa begs for her father’s life. That delectable wolf, Lady Stark, has offered no sentiments on her father’s behalf, just silence. Strong and just that one, not pleading like these women. They have soft hearts. As long as I am your king, no treason will go unpunished, Ser Illyn, bring me his head!” You pushed through, your hand pulling and tugging as you drowned in the crowd. You screamed for Father, “Please! No!” You could feel your knees growing weak as you pushed through the crowd, the man’s longsword glistening. Your chest aching and soon caught his eyes. He smiled, his lips mumbled, and you couldn’t catch it.

You felt someone yank at you, “Here, you!” your vision was clouded in darkness. You screamed, yanking yourself away from the familiar comfort. “Don’t look, little wolf, don’t look,” You sobbed hysterically as you felt him grab your body, tugging you away from the crowd. You hissed in discomfort, watching Sandor, his face full of grief and worry. “Aye, I thought something happened to you! I thought something- I couldn’t find you. For months, they kept you locked away from me.” He grabs your face harshly, bringing your attention to his. “You are alright!”

You sob, tears blurring your vision, and your mouth gaped open as you tried calming yourself down. “Please, tell me–” Sandor brought you close, wrapping his arms around you, letting your sobs rattle through his chest. He didn’t speak much of your father’s death; he dragged you away from the screaming mob, the roar of the crowd, the profanities that hung from their lips.

Sandor returned you to your chambers; you moved through the empty halls. You felt nothing; you could feel nothing. You wanted to cry, but it pained you even to blink. You flopped on your bed, and your body spread erratically across the perfectly made duvet. It was a soft red color decorated with gold flowers, and you hated the color and the scent of warmness it gave. You missed the frigid air of Winterfell, the thick blankets that pilled on your bed, and the dullness that surrounded you. The colors overwhelmed you, and the people overwhelmed you. You felt Sandor tuck you, gently stroking your hair out of your face and leaving you with the Lannister appointment maidens. Gripping one of the women by her dress, he dragged her close. She yelped, startled by his aggression. “If anything happens to her, I will kill all of you.” 

It has been days since anyone has seen you; Sansa grew worried as the maidens wouldn’t allow anyone into your chambers other than the King and his appointment men; Joffrey was worried that you were of traitor’s blood and wished for you to be confined to the four walls of your room against his better judgment. He wanted to behead you and send you to Robb, but Cersei had commanded against it. You were to only speak with Lannister appointment maidens, to be escorted by Ser Meryn and, on occasion, Ser Clegane. Joffrey, to much dismay from his mother, grew fond of you; he sat in your chambers, speaking of how he was going to behead your brothers and offer to you as gifts; accepting this gift would be the only way that you would genuinely be renounced as a traitor. In fear, you agreed softly, nodding along to every sick and psychopathic demand. He enjoys your presence; you say so little, unlike Sansa, who seems to say the wrong things, and his mother, who thinks she is now the King. You were more enjoyable than Sansa. He entered your room, now guarded by knights; his eyes scanned your chamber. Nothing had been touched or moved since the last visit. That was two weeks ago after showing Sansa the head of her traitor father. You didn’t move, but you knew it was Joffrey; he was the only person who came to see you. Your eyes shifted to him as he made his way around your bed. You mumbled out, shifting in the bed slightly, “Your Grace.” 

Lilly bowed gently as Joffrey as he walked away, a smirk resting on his lips. He knew that you recognized his rightful claim to the throne. He knew you were more intelligent than his sister; most importantly, you were Robb’s twin sister. A great show of dominance was fucking his twin sister; he needed to bed you. Get you pregnant; be his mistress. He knew you bleed; he asked the maids to check, and your moonly cycle had just ended. His hand holding the sword's pommel, his eyes scanning over you. “Please make yourself presentable. Once completed, one of the knights will escort you to the throne room. I wish to speak with you.” He walked away, stopping for a moment. Anger was building inside of him as he waited for a response. 

“As you wish, Your Grace.” He heard you shifting in the bed, and with a smile, he was gone. 

You were dressed in a backless black dress, exposing your perky bosoms; despite the rancid looks, you still mourned for your father; embroidered on the right collar was a wolf that Lilly had stitched to all of the gowns given to you by the Lannisters. You thank the maidens before moving with Ser Meryn to the throne room. You said nothing, acknowledged no one. 

You bowed gently at Joffrey, his eyes stalking your body, taking in the sight of your breasts, arms, and face. At his side, Sansa. Her eyes widened, and her lips trembled as she straightened her posture; she missed your touch's warmth and the gentleness of your words. She felt she betrayed you; she didn’t have time to think after the Father’s death; she just wanted to survive. 

“I want you to bear my children, rightful thrones to the heir!” he announced. You said nothing; you continued gazing at Sansa, praying that she was alright and praying to the Old Gods that the light cast shadows on her face instead of the bruises. Your hands clenched at your side as you watched her flinch at each movement made by Joffrey. “To fuck the traitorous blood out of you! Send the babes’s head to your brother, maybe send yours, force him to bend the knee, and submit to me.”

You simply answered, “No.” His face sunk, his eyes widened as his lips tightened, and his jaw clenched in frustration. You heard the footsteps of the knight, his armor rattling against each other. You watched Meryn, his decrepit face glaring into you. 

“Meryn,” he called out, his hand waved in his direction. 

You felt a hand glide across your face, your head snapping from the force; he struck you repeatedly. You remained still as the knight was instructed to hit you again if you didn’t accept his offer; Joffrey grew frustrated at your resilience. You felt blood dripping from your eyes, burning, blinding your vision. “You lay another hand on her, and I kill you.” you heard a knife unsheathing or maybe his longsword. Joffrey cackled; it settled in the throne room. You felt the uneasiness of the air and how it settled in your bones uncomfortably. 

“You want to protect this bitch! Your bitch! You know… I should make you fuck her, fuck the beast until you bear his litter of pups.” Joffrey tossed his hands in the sky, a wicked smile grew on his lips. “Why don’t we feast? A wedding between a wolf and a dog! You want her to fucking bad, have her! Make litters of animals. I’ll behead them and you. We will send them to your traitor brother,” he spits, his cackles once more as he claps his hands in excitement like a child. You squeezed your eyes closed, your face searing in pain; you heard him pushing past Meryn and Clegane, his hand grabbing my chin as he brought it closer to my face. ‘What do you say, wolf? Mm? Want to marry this ugly mutt?” You stared at him, disdain dripping from your lips as you tightened them. His Lannister eyes dull into you; for a moment, you are frightened but realize he was just a little boy playing King. He was a sadistic little boy. You retracted your thoughts, fearing that he might be able to hear them. You didn’t speak; you didn’t acknowledge him. Only turning your head out his hand. 

“This can all go away, and you don’t have to marry this ugly dog if you bear my children. Don’t you want to prove that you aren’t a traitor to be loyal to the rightful King,” he whispers into your ear, feeling your trembling skin with his finger. You calmly replied, remaining solid in your ass. He hisses in dismay, tossing your head back, causing you to stumble around. Sandor’s gently grabbed at your back. “A perfect alliance! You two mutts belong together! Soon, your head-”

“Enough!” you heard Cersei call out, her voice commanding the silence, causing Joffrey to stumble back. His face widened, and for a moment, you saw a child being reprimanded by his mother, a child who needs to be punished. His face grew slightly red, his lips tightening with embarrassment. 

Cersei dismissed you. Walking away, you rushed out of the throne as you felt the emotions run through; you wanted to cry, you could feel the tears building in your throat, and yet nothing. Numbness washed over you as you mindlessly moved back to your chambers… You needed to get out of here. You let yourself stumble into your chambers, greeted by Lilly, the only thing that reminded you of home. You collided with her, remaining silent as you listened to the constant beat of her heart. “It’s a’ght, M’lady,” she murmured. You flinched at the sound of the door; you could feel his presence filling the room. Lilly released you, bowing to Clegane as she stumbled out of the room. You didn’t dare move; you didn’t want to look at or think about him. 

His voice was strong, “Let me see you.” You obeyed, turning your gaze to him. You noticed he had a grey-ish clothe in his hand. In one stride was in front of you, dapping your face gently. You never thought he could be this gentle with you. His thumb caresses your chin as he huffs angrily, his face contorted slightly, causing his lip to twitch. He was in deep thought and wanted to kill Joffrey, behead him just as he did your father. He wanted to prove to you that he was not his loyal dog. “Stupid girl, why didn’t you marry him,” He cuffs your bruised face, bringing you closer to him. “Why didn’ya accept the offer?”

“Sandor,” you mumbled weakly, his name bringing joy to his ears. You didn’t have an answer, nor did you want to provide him with one. You simply let yourself rest against him, feeling the cold sting of his armor. It was nothing like the chilling sensation of the North, but it brought you a sense of comfort. Sandor sat stiffly, allowing you to rest against him. 

“You’re a stupid girl,” he whispers. “My stupid girl.” His lips pushed against your head, mumbling insults to you.

𓃥𓃦𓃨

It was Joffrey’s nameday; you grew tired of the insipid celebration of the arrogant and cruel King. Your body leaned against the railing, the calm winds blowing against you as you were in deep thought. You could hear Lilly calling out for your name, but you ignored her, knowing that it must’ve been Joffrey who once again offered his seed to you and offered you an out for the marriage with Sandor. His hand would grab at your throat, snatching you closer to him before pushing you against the wall. His other hand yanked your hair down, and you croaked as you clawed against his hand. Your whimpers barely escape your throat. Soon, as he grew tired of your squirming, he let go, watching you gasp helplessly. Your body fell limp to the ground as you clutched the dress that pooled at your feet. This became routine for the last couple of weeks, but you were hoping on his nameday, he would leave you be. 

You peered over your shoulder, seeing Sandor aggressively march into the room, his eyes capturing yours; a small smile rode on his lips. You returned your attention ahead of you, taking in the pastures of green and the ant-like bodies walking about. Everyone and Everything was loud in celebration of King Joffrey. You could feel his gaze on you; it was heavy and needy. Roughly, his armor fell against the floor, clanging and being kicked to the side. He could him slightly cursing and fumbling to move closer to you. You relaxed against him, feeling his warmth against your backside. “I need you.” You could feel him stiffen against you, his hand roughly grabbed at your waist. “I miss you…I’ve missed you for some time now.” You grind yourself gently against him, your ass grazing the tip of his throbbing cock. “I just—I want you inside of me.” 

“You don’t know what you are asking for.” he hums, his hands tightening on your waist as he guides your movements slightly. His hands roughly yanked at the back of your dress, exposing you, his fingers gently caressing your ass before moving to your opening. You hiss as he drags his thick finger over your wetness, his finger tracing at your glistening pearl before inserting his finger; you gasp, grabbing at the rails as you let yourself fall against it. He was rough and sloppy, thrusting in an erratic pattern before slowly retracting his finger. You hum in pleasure, your stomach churning with the familiar euphoric sensation as he pounds his finger into you; Sandor is growing impatient. He wanted to fuck you, to make you scream out his name for all to hear. His cock ached and pulsated as he watched your leaking cunt, dripping his fingers against the cement. Irrationally, he became jealous of the bugs that would taste you and the air that kisses you. He admires your soft kitten-like moans, how they purr against his ear gently, the soft meows of his name as he rams his finger into you. You quickly turn to face him, startling him for a moment. His finger was slipping out of you–your face flushed with color as your chest heaved harshly. The material tightened against your chest before retracting as you watched Sandor. Sandor turns away in disgust of himself; your hands inched to his face, tugging at him. 

Slowly, he returns his attention to you. His eyes glared at you. Quickly, he grabs at you, pulling you off of your feet; you gasp as you feel your back pressed against the cool brick. Quickly,  your legs around him, steadying yourself as you watched him fumble with the ties that held up his trousers. You watched him, your eyes taking the scars that riddled his face and the solemn look that marked his lip. His face grew in frustration; he shut his eyes briefly, insecurity shattering him as he tried not to think about your judging eyes. You heed his direction, shutting your eyes as you watch the darkness that clouded you. You flinched at his unexpected softness, his fingers touching your face and lips. His hands move to your thighs, squeezing at your flesh as his hands move to your ass. You could feel the pressure building inside of you as you felt the tip of his cock rest against your entrance, pocking and sliding against your wetness. 

The air is stolen from her as Sandor’s hips meet yours. Your eyes flickered open as you moaned loudly, your hands wrapping against his neck as you lazily pulled him closer to you. He stumbled closer to you, your breath mingling as Sandor’s head rested against your clavicle. He gently gnawed at you, his lips gliding against your skin before resting against your neck. Rapidly, he thrust inside of you, your heat tightening around him as you moaned out his name, the pace of this thrust was ruthless as he cursed at you, using his grip on your hips to yank you further down on his throbbing and needy cock. He pulls away from your neck as he watches you chant his name over and over. “Sandor, Sandor–oh Sandor, Please—Sandor.”

He stops, taking the time to watch you squirm underneath his touch. His nose brushes against your cheek as he kisses it; quickly, you turn your head to face him. He watched your eyes slowly prying open as your doe-like eyes overtook him. Your face contorted in pleasure as he continued to thrust into you. Your fingers danced back to his cheeks, cuffing them in admiration. You slam your lips against him, tasting the bitter wine on his tongue. Your tongue dipped into his mouth, gathering everything before sliding back into your own; you moaned against him while his hips picked up in pace, the slaps echoing into the air as you cried out a moan on his lips. You pull back as a slew of words fall from your lips. “All mine, you’re all mine,” he growls through his runts and your rants, his words falling upon deaf ears as you call out his name through your orgasm. His dick twitches inside of you; he could feel himself approaching his high, his seed jutting out as you whine out his name. Your cunt clenches against him as you feel his cum flooding inside of you, his hips still moving at the painstakingly harsh pace, fucking himself through his orgasm as he pushes himself against you. He retracts slightly, letting his cock slide out, exposed to the cool air. He rams himself deeper inside of you, shoving his seed into you. “You take me so well, little wolf.”

You felt him pick up pace, his jerked against you, his head resting against you as he grunted out your name. Soon, all of his seed was slammed into you, dripping around his cock and your soaking cunt. He pulls back swiftly, his eyes watching as silence veiled over you. Your mouth parted as you tried catching your breath, your hands lazily cuffing his neck as your thumb stroked his jawline. You peeked at his lips, still feeling his cock twitch inside of you. “I missed you.” You repeated, the words lazily falling off your tongue. Sandor had no words; he couldn’t think around you. You left him in a state of wanting—needing more. He pulls himself out of you, causing you to take intake quickly. You weren’t like the whores that he paid to fuck, the needy and whining pleas as he rammed his cock into them, their eyes squeezed tight when laying on their backs. He recalls one time, paying the woman handsomely to moan out his name; she nodded shyly, her eyes never meeting his face that she did, her voice coarse and full of emotion. “Sandor Sandor Sandor—- you fuck me so good, your cock fills me so well.” He hated it, the way her auburn hair bounced, the way her hands grabbed at his chest, the way her teets moved about as she bounced on him, the way her mouth horridly gaped open as she screamed out his name, and everything that falls out of her mouth was scripted and unreal. She came undone, jumping off his lap and taking his manhood into her mouth, soaking up all his seed as she smiled brightly. With a grunt, he pushed her off, irritated by her presence. For months, it went on as such, endless whores that never pleased him.

He regretted it every time, especially the nights he came to you, gentle with your words and touch. You lay with him, letting your hands caress him. You were patient with him, understanding his anger and outbursts; he never understood it and loathed the feeling that rose when he thought everything was feigned and a part of his imagination. 

Here he stands, watching you glistening in the sweet sun’s rays, your skin dewy as you happily watched him. Your touch gentle, your words pure. He never felt like this with any woman. Insecurity knocked into him, and he turned away from you, allowing your feet to slap against the ground. He was once again towing over you. He gathers himself, leaving you alone. You adjusted yourself in your garment; his seed was sticky against your cunt and uppermost inner thighs. You pushed your hands across your face, returning to your chamber as you removed your clothing, readying yourself for today’s affairs.

[horizon-verizon]

List of Non-Targ Westerosi In*cest Marriages

Tywin Lannister x Joanna Lannister (1st cousins)

-- Issue: Cersei, Jaime, and Tyrion

Rickard Stark x Lyarra Stark (1st cousins)

-- Issue: Brandon, Eddard "Ned", Lyanna, Benjen

Cregan Stark x Lynara Stark (just says "distant cousins")

-- Issue: Jonnel, Edric, Lyanna, Barthogan, Brandon

Serena Stark x Edric Stark (uncle-niece)

-- Issue: Cregard, Torrhen, Arrana, Aregelle

Sansa Stark x Jonnel Stark (uncle-niece)

-- Issue: NONE

Paxter Redwyne x Mina Tyrell (1st cousins)

-- Issue: Horas, Hobber, Desmera

Samantha Tarly x Lyonel Hightower (previously step mother-stepson)

-- Issue: 6 unknown children, all illegitimately born before their marriage

POSSIBLE CLOSE RELATIONS (exact degrees unknown)

Jon Arryn x Rowena Arryn

-- Issue: NONE

Shella Whent x Walter Whent

-- Issue: 4 unknown sons & 1 unknown daughter

Benfrey Frey x Jyanna Frey

-- Issue: Della & Osmund

Alys Frey x Jared Frey

-- Issue: Tytos & Kyra