#lady cole

[writingsofwesteros]

Lady Cole wakes up in a daze on her side, assuming she really only dreamt that night of debauchery.

After all, she woke up alone. Or so she thought.

A soft groan from behind her and a long arm wraps around her waist. She’s pulled flush against the Prince who had snuck into her rooms the night before.

“Was I too rough, Lady Cole? I hope you can forgive me. I was… excited.”

Aemond's hand moves to her sweet, soft breast to hold onto whilst burrowing into her neck. His bare body was pushed against her as the cold, morning breeze came in.

"My Prince..." She was still shocked he was here at all as he only hummed into her ear in response

[lotussgrl]

andrew garfield, lady gaga and lily cole for vogue, photographed by annie leibovitz (2009)

[theboleyngirlx]

guinevere and lancelot coded

[writing-intheundercroft]

Ser Freckles // S. Sallow

Rating: T

WC: 2,743

Summary: As heir to the throne, the princess takes appointing her sworn protector very seriously.

A/N: Submitted as part of a writing challenge because I'm a glutton for starting AU projects. inspired heavily by HOTD (I've been looking for an excuse to use the name Gawayne). Much love to the pals who keep Knight!Seb living in my brain <3

“Now that you are of age, and officially the heir to the throne, it’s time you appoint your first sworn sword.”

She looked up to Fig as they walked down the stone stairs, the excited chatter from the courtyard echoing off the walls.  Fig had been her tutor all her life, and only now did she realize her lessons with him had a greater purpose.  She was the only daughter of the king’s dearly departed brother, a king who lacked any heirs of his own.  And now that she’d turned eighteen, with no hopes for a male cousin in sight, she had been formally invested as the heir apparent.

Fig was no lowly court tutor, she realized. He’d been placed with her from her youth, preparing her for what had seemed like a distant possibility that she might one day become queen. Lord Eleazar Fig, a member of the King’s Counsel, had been priming her to take power all along.

”I’m not sure why I can’t keep Lady Singer,” she mumbled, kicking her skirts as they continued their descent. “She’s been my guardian for as long as I can remember.”

”Lady Singer is a governess,” Fig reminded her. “And in no way capable of being your sworn protector.  The young man you choose today will become a knight, sworn to your king's guard.  Can you remind me what the function of your king's guard is?”

”My queen’s guard,” she snipped, emphasizing the word, “will protect my counsel and me from harm, as well as my future heirs.”

“Precisely, Princess.” Fig smiled. “It’s largely a symbolic role considering the relative peace our realm has seen this past one hundred years, even more so with the city watch taking guard of the castle.  But the king—er, queen’s guard is a deep rooted tradition each house takes very seriously.  The gentlemen we’ve assembled today for your selection come from some of the great houses of the realm.  Others have been lauded for their bravery and skill in the battlefield.”

The princess and Lord Fig walked to the balcony, the crowd below falling into silence. There were six men (boys, she observed, especially considering she’d grown up with four of them around court) standing in the courtyard below.  They all wore gleaming armor, save for the last, wearing a dull set without embellishments.  Each had a pennant with their house sigil, members of their families standing behind them. The animals on each pennant were embroidered with gleaming metallic thread–lions, eagles, badgers, and snakes taking center, representing the great houses each family bowed to. 

Lord Fig took her hand, helping her stand on a stool to catch a better glimpse of her future knight.

”The first proposed candidate is Ser Leander Prewett,” Fig stated loudly. “Ser Leander is the second son of Lord Lyonel Prewett.  He is a fine duelist, trained by one of the land’s most notable swordsmen.”

She cocked her brow, observing the redhead below.  Tall, lithe, with a glorious mane of red hair.

”And rather shit on a horse,” she muttered under her breath. “Did you see him in the last tourney?”

”Horsemanship is not a requirement of a knight, Princess.” Fig muttered.

”He truly had no idea if he was facing the front, or the back.” She joked. 

Lord Fig concealed his laugh in a cough. He waved his arm, and Leander’s gleaming smile vanished into a rather sour expression as the next option stepped forward.

”Ser Garreth Weasley,” Fig announced. “The third son of Lord Gwayne Weasley.”

”I know Ser Garreth well,” she smiled demurely. “Is it not one of the oaths as my queen’s guard to take no wife, have no children, and to be sworn to uphold the duties of the crown until death or dismissal?”

”It is, Princess.”

She clicked her tongue. “I know very well my dear friend Lady Natsai would be quite upset if I took her beloved to my service.  I’d rather see the two of them happily married than split apart by duty.” She waved him backwards, knowing Natty would be pleased.  Garreth stepped back, cheeks red, but a relieved look on his face.

“The next option is Ser Amit Thakkar,” Fig looked down at his notes. “Son of the Dowager Lady Tara Thakkar. No notable tourney experience, he’s been—“

”Away for his studies in the new world,” the princess interjected. “I know Ser Amit quite well. Tell me, Ser, how was your research on the skies?  Anything new to report?”

“I’ve identified at least twelve constellations once lost to our maesters,” Amit announced excitedly. “And I do look forward to finding more.”

She tilted her head to Fig, eyebrows raised. “I do believe Ser Amit’s talents are better used with the college of maesters, rather than as a member of my queen’s guard.”

”Moving on,” Fig tutted. “Ser Duncan Hobhouse, son of—“

”No.”

”Okay, on to the next.” Fig winced, letting the young Duncan Hobhouse step back with a sigh. “Next is Ser Isaac Cooper. Son of Ser Tristan Cooper, the Lord Commander of the city watch.  Strong, steady, and good with a lance.  Ser Isaac has topped the tourney lists, specifically winning the tourney of Aranshire this past spring. ”

The princess chewed her lower lip as she appraised Ser Isaac.  He stood tall, black hair cropped closely to his head. His parents stood behind him proudly bearing the badger on their sigil.  Isaac gave her a beaming smile, followed by a rather obvious wink.

“I look forward to serving you, my princess, in all ways you see fit.” Isaac said loudly, followed by a showy bow. A gaggle of young ladies on the upper balcony giggled audibly, Ser Isaac blowing a kiss to his admirers.

The princess gagged, wrinkling her nose as she turned back to her tutor. 

”A tourney knight,” she huffed. “Tell me, Lord Fig, do any of these knights have real combat experience?”

Fig sighed deeply, beckoning forward the sixth option.  It was the knight in plain armor; unlike the others, he did not have a large gathering of family members behind him.  A thin, peaky girl stood by his side, wobbling on her feet as their sigil shook in her hands. The green velvet of the flag looked worn, but a silver snake had been embroidered into the fabric with metallic thread, red beads for eyes.  Behind them was a stern looking man, beard peppered with silver hairs.  

The boy paid them no attention, standing forward with his head bowed to her. 

“Ser Sebastian Sallow,” Fig cleared his throat. “The nephew of Ser Solomon Sallow, a former knight of the city watch.  He was dismissed from his post after the death of his brother, taking on the stewardship of his young niece and nephew.  Ser Solomon and his nephew Sebastian have taken the responsibility of patrolling the lower highlands, protecting their hamlets from ashwinders and poachers.”

She leaned forward over the railing, interest piqued by the humble knight below. “Tell me, Ser Sebastian, of your experience fighting against the ashwinder rebellion.”

He lifted his head, big brown eyes framed by an explosion of freckles. He had a round, boyish face for eighteen, thick brown hair descending in waves. A blush took over his cheeks as he dipped his head once more.

”I have fought against the ashwinders for the past five years, Princess.  For as long as my uncle has allowed me.” He said, tipping his head back towards the stern man. “The lower hamlets rarely see reinforcements from the city watch, so it is up to the residents themselves to gather arms.”

“And when did you become a knight, Ser Sebastian?”

Sebastian turned briefly to look at his uncle, who merely nodded. “The Lord Commander of the city watch was passing through our hamlet when he witnessed me apprehending a cohort of ashwinder assassins.” He adjusted his grip on the helmet in his hands, metal clanking as he shifted.  Unlike the others, there were no grand decorations, no feathery plumes attached to the helmet.  It was practical, well-worn steel that had seen battle many times before. “He knighted me on the field, after the battle.”

”One boy against twenty ashwinders,” Fig whispered in her ear. “Quite a feat.”

She braced her palms against the stone ledge, hair falling over her shoulders. He looked up at her intently now, eyes wide.  even with his armor on, she could see his throat bobbing, swallowing down his nerves.  

“That settles it for me. I choose Ser Sebastian Sallow.” 

The hall descended into loud whispers; the girl holding his sigil gasped with delight, while the man behind her dropped his mouth open in shock.  Sebastian knelt, but kept his gaze fixated upon her.  It was as if the chocolate brown orbs were burning into her, somewhere between admiration and curiosity. 

Fig gave her a knowing look. “Ser Sebastian it is.”

”I’ll leave the details to Ser Sebastian’s investiture to you, Lord Fig.” the princess said, stepping down from the stool. Her heels clattered against the floor, hands folded behind her back. “And measure him for new armor.  Something befitting my sworn protector.”

”The customary armor, of course, with your sigil on the pauldron.” Fig noted.

She paused, turning one last time towards her counsel.

”Don’t forget his snakes.” She reminded him. “Silver with ruby eyes.”

Fig tried to conceal his smile. “Yes, princess.”

“You know we’re not allowed in the armory,” Poppy hissed, trying to tug on her skirt. “Lady Singer–”

“Lady Singer can kiss my arse,” the princess declared, enjoying the way her lady in waiting’s cheeks flushed. “I would like to supervise the fitting.  Will you join me?”

“I think not,” Poppy lifted her nose. “I’ll be off to the library to meet with Imelda.  You should stay out of trouble.” the brunette warned.

The princess pulled open the heavy door of the armory, grinning at her friend. “Trouble is my middle name,” she sang, waving goodbye as she entered the room.  The normally bustling armory was quiet at midday, with most of the knights standing guard.  She stepped past the rows of white cloaks, all hung under their corresponding owner’s name.  Weapons were stacked against the wall on wooden racks; she wouldn’t dare go near the spears, swords, and morningstars for fear of tipping them over.  Her slippers pattered against the flagstone floors as she walked deeper into the chamber in search of her new knight.

“There you are,” she declared, seeing him standing on the pedestal. Ser Sebastian Sallow stood in his freshly tailored white breeches and shirt, half dressed in his new gilded armor.

“Princess,” the armorer bowed his head quickly, stepping away from Sebastian. “I did not realize you were coming in to supervise the fitting.”

“Is it not tradition?” she asked, circling the pedestal with an approving nod.

“It is,” the armor rubbed his hands together anxiously. “For the king.  But you are a young lady, it’s hardly appropriate for you to be in the armory with a knight in a state of undress–”

“Ser Sebastian is my choice,” she pointed out. “So I will supervise the fitting of his armor and his sword selection, just as my uncle did for his sworn swords.”

“As you wish, princess.” The armor nodded. “I’ll fetch his sword at once.”  He bowed, walking backwards out of the room.

“Are you always so commanding?” Ser Sebastian asked, a hand on his hip.

“Only when they’re so formal.” she grinned, crossing her arms. “The armor looks good on you.”

Sebastian’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you.” he stammered. “And thank you for honoring my house.” he gestured to his pauldron, decorated with the Sallow family sigil. Instead of the crudely carved 

The armorer returned, holding a glimmering sword with a checked handle. “His sword, your grace.” he handed it to her for inspection. “I shall return shortly with his cloak; the seamstress was just finishing the hem.” He backed out of the room once more, leaving the pair alone.

The princess bobbed her head as she held the sword in her hand, testing its weight. “Good balance,” she mused, tossing it from one hand to the other.

“You’re trained with a sword?” Sebastian asked, eyebrow cocked.

She gave him a toothy grin, swinging the sword from side to side. “My uncle thought it best that I was taught the same as any other prince of the realm.” 

“I certainly agree,” Sebastian offered. “I trained my sister as best as I could before coming to the capitol.”

“Well then, should we practice for your investiture?” She asked. “On your knees, then.”

Sebastian sank to the floor, beaming up at her obediently.  He tipped his chin upwards, right hand resting over his heart. 

“Do you swear to uphold the code of the kingsguard?” she asked, trying her best to remember the vows Lord Fig had tasked her with memorizing.

“I do,” Sebastian echoed.

“Do you swear to guard the king with all your might, and give your blood for him and his heirs?” She recited the words slowly and thoughtfully.  The sword was beginning to feel heavy in her hands, but Sebastian didn’t budge.  He stayed, knelt below her on the ground, closed fist bound to his chest.

“I do.”

“Do you swear to take no wife, father no children, hold no lands? Do you swear to guard your king’s secrets, obey his commands, defend his name and honor?”

The princess blinked down at her chosen knight, hovering the blade over his shoulder. His big, brown eyes stared back at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  She hadn’t noticed the freckles on his lips; then again, she’d never been so close to him before.  He looked both like a knight and a boy all at once–his armor was unfinished, missing the pauldron on his left shoulder that would bear her sigil.  Sebastian’s messy hair stuck up in the back, and the princess felt the strong urge to pat it down.

She instead remained steady, blade in hand.

“Do you swear, Ser Sebastian?” she asked.

“I swear to take no wife, father no children, nor hold any lands.  I swear to guard my queen’s secrets, obey her commands, defend her name and honor. For as long as I breathe, my life is my queen’s.” Sebastian gave her a coy look, eyes glittering with mischief; he aimed to flatter her, charming the princess with his change in verbiage.

Two could play that game, she thought. The princess lifted her sword, tapping it on both of his shoulders.  “By the grace of the future queen, I name you Ser Kiss Arse.” she declared dramatically.

Sebastian choked, and the princess laughed.  Her whole body shook with her giggles, and Sebastian pouted. 

“No fair,” he complained. “Pick a better name.”

“Fine,” she wiped a tear from her eye. Feigning composure, she straightened her posture and gave him her best queenly glare. “By the grace of the future queen, I name you Ser Freckles.”

“You’re making a mockery of it,” Sebastian whined.

“We’re practicing, remember?” She snorted. “I promise, I’ll be much more official during the actual ceremony.”

Sebastian huffed. “Fine then.  But if I get a nickname, then you get one too.” he warned. “Princess Picky is what I’ll call you.”

The princess scoffed, backing away. “Who called me picky?”

Sebastian gave her a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his neck. “Everyone at court, actually. They thought you were too picky with your requirements of the kingsguard.  The public is fairly certain you’re making a mistake in picking me as your sworn sword.” his smile faltered, a wave of doubt crashing over his face. “My family has no riches, no influence at court.  I have nothing else to offer you.”

The princess chewed her lower lip, dragging the sword behind her as she leaned down to face her knight. “It is no mistake,” she murmured, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “You are the most deserving of the title.  I chose you. And if that makes me picky, so be it.”

Sebastian touched her wrist; the gesture shocked her, eyelashes fluttering from the surprise embrace.  But she did not move her hand–the princess kept it on his uncovered shoulder, her hair falling in her face as she looked down at her sworn protector.

“Princess Picky and Ser Freckles,” Sebastian joked. “An eclectic pair.”

She gave him an earnest smile. “I’d have it no other way.”

[manicpixiedepressedwitch]

mother at the hotd paris premiere

[stargiirl27]

how I'm gonna meet the loml

[lunasglow]

“Honor and decency shall prevail”

“We light the way”

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

the greens every other scene:

[thatscruelsummer]

quick alicole sketch (w baby daeron ♥)

[writingsofwesteros]

It’s been a minute since I thought of Lady Catrin Cole. But I’m thinking about her.

Thinking about Criston being different when he returns from Rook’s Rest. Watching men turn to ash, roasting in their armor. His dear sister tries to take care of him as she always has.

She draws him up a bath in her rooms and lights candles, “Rest, Criston. Please.”

He allows her to undress him completely. As much as he tries to fight it, the feel of her hands is enough for his cock to harden. He says nothing. Not even moving to hide it. Catrin was on her knees, pulling down his breeches when his length bobs in her face. She gasps slightly, looking up at him. Neither of them say anything. She continues to help him out of his clothes and leads him into her tub, trying hard not to look at his half-hard cock.

The water feels good, but her hands on his shoulders feel better. Such a good woman is his sister. She rubs his shoulders and hums songs in his ear. If he turned at the right moment, he could kiss her… drag her into the water, push her skirts away from her sweet cunt, impale her on his throbbing length and give her a reason to sing.

Criston shoots upright in the tub, had he been dozing off? Gods, he’s fully erect in the water. He’s so hard it almost hurts. “Sweetling— Catrin. Leave me, I… I need some quiet.”

She leaves him to go start a kettle for tea. Catrin is fighting hard to pretend she didn’t notice his arousal. It’s only a physical reaction, she tells herself, just as the wetness between her thighs is a reaction.

“Catrin,” He calls for her.

Lady Catrin hurries towards to the bathroom, “Are you well, Criston? Criston?”

His head is leaned back, lips parted. Catrin feels her thighs clench as she sees the water move with his right hand hidden in the bath. Criston was… touching himself.

She rushed back to her kettle. Confused. He had called her name, hadn’t he? Had it been for help, or for pleasure… why would he do that?

LADY COLE !

Criston was so heartbreaking when he had returned from Rook's Rest, poor thing!! :(

The picture of her on her knees as she undresses him for his fat cock to bob near her face. She fought to contain herself whilst gently cleaning her brother.

She fights to ignore what she heard; clearing those thoughts as Criston gracefully moved from the tub. His bare body on full display

[pandorainabox]

Here are some more screenshot edits! I'm going to work on some more tomorrow since these are literally so fun to do!

[spinjitzuladykaia]

frinedly reminder thats from canon comic series,cole CANNONICALY called kai hot

[writingsofwesteros]

Something I noticed about Larys this season that I find funny in light of Lady Catrin Cole:

He absolutely had a glow-up. This man is shaved, hair slicked back, outfits on point. I'mm just gonna pretend he's putting in more effort for Lady Catrin like: "Hey, you see this drip? You see how clean I look right now? Bet you want this face on you, don't you?"

And she's just like: "Oh shit, he does look pretty fresh right now..."

Ser Criston watching them eye-fuck in total disgust jealousy.

ITS SO TRUE!!

Ser Criston watching them eye-fuck in total disgust jealousy. Oh for sure, poor Criston !

Larys enjoying this all too much

[fallen-faerie]

[bietrofastimoff23]

ep5: I've never seen a more boring episode. this is the first time I've had to skip scenes. incompetent stretching of timekeeping, monotonous babbling without any disclosure of the characters, chopped bland dialogues that do not advance the plot in any way, prolonged glances. the councils continue to spin one sexist hurdy-gurdy, as if Rhaenyra and Alicent are unable to rule because of their gender, and not because one of them is inactive while the houses of her supporters are defeated, and the other has not offered anything during all this time and has released the enemy, and demands as a "reward" for this to herself the title of regent. those close to them are fighting for their monarchs not because Rhaenyra or Aegon are capable leaders or they support their claims, but because "well, Viserys wanted it that way," "my grandma fought and I will." the enemy actions in the show are not seen as attacking, but as a bad omen for the greens (Meleys broke through the floor and killed thousands of people, but she was definitely a "beloved dragon" and everyone is very worried about her"). we continue to be poked in the face by hanged rat catchers, and this act is given more time than any crime of TB, also the fact that hotd shows more longing for the killer of the child (the dog that continues to follow the body of the former owner) than for anyone else makes the situation worse. and this is only the first thing that caught my eye, in fact, there is still something to complain about.

the only interesting thing left after the charred Aegon is Daemon's trips and Larys's equanimity (and Criston Cole's attempts not to commit s@icide a second time, fight me. well, his dynamics with Gwayne too).

and finally, the absolute GOATs of ep5:

[felassan]

BioWare on Twitter: "We know that our fans are creative and talented, and we want to celebrate your hard work on Fan FriDAys! Every week we'll share some of our favorite artwork, cosplays and other creations. If you want to participate, use the tags #DragonAge and #FanFriDAys when you post." [source]

[greenaswildfire]

"She's saved my life, twice. Once from the headman's axe, once from myself. Since then, she's been the beacon I follow."

Ser Criston Cole, S02E08

No matter what you say, this line is the only one that could rival Aegon's "The queen is an enduring mystery".