#tommen baratheon x sansa stark

[helaenarts]

‘Such a restless girl, our little queen. She seldom let more than three days pass without going off for a ride. Some days they would ride along the Rosby road to hunt for shells and eat beside the sea. Other times she would take her entourage across the river for an afternoon of hawking.’

Cersei VI A Feast For Crows

[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.

[claymoresword]

Wild Nights

Margaery Tyrell x Baratheon Fem!Reader

Summary: Margaery Tyrell has a long term secret affair with the King's oldest sister.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, g!p reader, alpha/beta/omega dynamics if you squint, breeding kink, cheating, penetrative sex, blow job, porn absolutely no plot

Note: ok this is totally self indulgent and literally no one asked for it but i've had the idea floating around in my mind since i finished GOT literally 9 months ago but i finally found the motivation to sit down and write so here it is...

not sure if anyone is gonna even click on this tbh but if you're here hi! enjoy!

Just as you are about to drift off into a slumber, you're jolted awake at the sound of knocking on your door.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you glanced at the window, it was still pitch black out, as you were well into the hour of the owl.

For a moment you wonder if you had imagined the noise, but when you hear the same knocking again, you climb out of bed.

"Who goes there?" You asked as you approached the door but you received no response.

Curiosity gets the better of you, with a firm hand on the knob you pull the door open slightly, your expression immediately relaxes once you realize who it was standing on the other side.

"Hello, y/n" Your sister in law greets you.

The Queen stood with her arms wrapped around herself, her robe clearly not providing her adequate warmth as she shudders.

The fireplace alight in your chambers being the only reason you aren't affected by the piercing chill of the night.

You find yourself taking in Margaery's appearance; only in her nightgown and robe, her hair loose and unkept. You study the charming curve of her lips as she gazes at you. Even in the dead of the night, she remains breathtaking.

"Your Grace, is everything alright?" You ask with real concern, the expression the other woman gives you in return is sheepish.

"I could not find sleep." Margaery admits and your stare turns incredulous, but you remain unmoving.

"May I come in?" She asks after a beat and you remain silent but you finally pull your door open wider, allowing her to enter.

**

As soon as you shut the door, Margaery is on you.

She kisses you, heavy and desperate, her body flush against yours. It shocks your entire system, however, the feeling quickly morphs into a wave of arousal as her tongue enters your mouth.

You feel your cock beginning to harden in your breeches as you rest your hand on the small of her back before moving it to grip her waist.

"Wait–" You say breaking the kiss, Margaery makes no attempt to hide her fervor; she chases your lips, before halting to meet your gaze.

"Shouldn't you be in bed with your husband?" You taunt, although already knowing the response.

Since they've gotten married Margaery has shown no true interest in Tommen. It was you she wanted from the start, you she would have chosen to wed if the matter of union was up to her.

The glint in Margaery's eye as she prepares to answer only works to excite you further.

"I don't want my husband." She responds, capturing your lips for another searing kiss, this time you chase her lips as she pulls away.

"He is clumsy and inadequate." Margaery quips, kissing you again. She leans back slightly to playfully tug on your bottom lip with her teeth.

Once again you feel blood rushing directly to your groin, your cock now throbbing as your breath shallows.

Margaery notices immediately as the hardened bulge remains pressed up against her thigh. A shiver runs through you as you watch her smirk grow.

"Whereas, you always know where to put your hands.." She explains, tilting her head to plant a lingering kiss on your jaw before moving to your neck.

You feel her hot breath against your skin as she reaches down to boldly palm you over your breeches.

"You know exactly where to kiss me." Margaery whispers before placing an open mouthed kiss on your neck, you have to fight the urge to grind your member into her hand.

"You know how to make me feel good." The Queen adds, her mouth now lingering over your ear, she plants a wet kiss against it and she moves her hand so she may begin unlacing your breeches.

"Fuck–" You say, already so unbelievably aroused, your cock straining almost painfully.

You reach down to assist her, hastily undoing the laces before pulling down your breeches.

Margaery merely chuckles darkly at your impatience.

You pull down your pants, finally revealing your cock, hard to the touch and already dripping with your seed.

Margaery's eyes remain on the length in between your legs, her expression betrays a raw and primal hunger.

You grab a handful of her hair, pulling her close for a sloppy kiss, one she reciprocates eagerly, you don't pull away until you are both panting.

"Get on your knees, sweet girl. I want to feel your pretty mouth around my cock." You order with a firm hand still gripping a handful of Margaery's hair.

The Queen obeys with no protest, you watched as she kneeled before you.

Margaery swipes her thumb across the head, lubricating it with your own release. She then wraps her fingers around your girth, stroking it with purpose and dexterity.

Her hand felt good, but it was not enough.

With your hand still firmly on the back of her head, you guide her face closer, desperate to feel her mouth.

Margaery decides to give you what you need, she runs her tongue down your length before finally wrapping her mouth around the tip. She takes in a deep breath, lowering herself, soon she has all of you in her mouth, her tongue flat against your cock as she sucks.

"Fuck– You mouth feels amazing." You praise through pants, and Margaery lets out a moan in response.

Her mouth continues to work towards your pleasure, she lowers her head further, you let out a groan as the tip of your cock comes into contact with the back of her throat.

"I'm close–" You say, and Margaery continues her steady pace, sucking your cock like her life depended on it.

You shut your eyes as you rest your head against the door. Soon you are unable to focus on anything beyond the feeling of Margaery's talented mouth as she brings you to your release.

You empty yourself in her mouth, the Queen makes no effort to pull away, placing a firm hand on your rear to hold you close as she swallows every drop.

You release your grip on her hair and the other woman finally pulls away, your member falls out of her mouth as she does.

You swiftly bend down, crashing your lips against Margaery's as she rises, your tongue enters her mouth shamelessly and without reserve, tasting your own release.

In just a few moments you feel your cock return to its hardened state once again.

You pull Margaery closer, until her body is flush against your own, you wish to ravage her, worship her, wreck her, just to put her back together again.

"My turn." You breathe out against her lips, swiftly pulling her robe off her body.

**

You kick away your own breeches that were pooled by your feet before lifting your nightshirt over your head.

You attempt to do the same with Margaery's nightgown but she stops you with a hand on your wrist.

"Is something the matter?" You ask, even though Margaery's face indicates nothing of the sort.

"No, nothing is wrong. I just wish to go slowly, if you don't mind." The other woman says, biting her lip.

"Ofcourse, anything you want." You reassure, and Margaery grins.

"Good." She says, getting on her tiptoes to kiss you again, she begins leading you to the bed.

The back of your knees hit the bedframe and Margaery nudges you by the chest slightly, gesturing for you to take a seat.

You watched intently as she kicked off her footwear before moving her hands to the laces of her nightgown.

However, her movements are tantalizingly slow, and you are only growing increasingly mad with need.

Your mouth remains agape as you observe her and Margaery has to purse her lips, stifling her amusement.

Then it finally occurs to you; Margaery doesn't want to go slowly for her own benefit, she only aims to torture you.

"My love.." You plead.

The other woman merely smiles, feigned innocence.

"Hm?" Margaery says as she finally grabs the hem of her nightgown, but she's still not moving fast enough.

Your cock remained unbearably hard, standing at attention.

You take it upon yourself to start stroking your length, in an attempt to take advantage of the sight before you and douse the burning heat at the pit of your stomach.

Margaery is finally naked, she soon steps closer, lifting your chin before capturing your lips with hers. She then reaches down to grab your hand, pulling it away so you would stop pleasuring yourself.

Before you get a chance to protest, the other woman finally climbs onto the bed, situating her legs on either side of your lap, languidly straddling you. Your mouth continues moving against hers with intensity and desperation.

Margaery's hands remain on your shoulders as she steadies herself, and you prepare yourself, but much to your dismay, the Queen makes no effort to make you enter her.

As her lips leave yours, your expression is almost pained but Margaery only seems to thrive off it.

"Do you want me?" She asks, grinding her heat against the length of your cock, coating it with her arousal.

"I do– please." Your voice trembles with need, as you grip her waist firmly attempting to guide her, but the other woman does not budge.

The tip of your cock is now prodding her entrance, you can feel just how wet she is, but Margaery's composure doesn't falter.

You decide to take a different approach.

"I want to feel your tight cunt wrapped around me. I want to stretch you out until you're all sore, until you have trouble walking and sitting down on the morrow." You say, and it works to break her resolve.

Margaery's gaze visibly darkens as she grips the base of your length, holding it place as she lowers herself onto you.

You both throw your head back at the initial sensation, Margaery lets out an unrestrained moan and you respond with a groan.

Her cunt felt so warm and wet, it made you see stars. As she begins to move her hips, the Queen moans again, loud and unapologetic.

You were certain in the quiet of the night, the entire Red Keep would be privy to her blatant calls of pleasure, but neither of you cared.

Margaery's fingers threaded through your hair before she roughly grabbed a handful of it. You wince at the sensation, but the pain quickly dissappears within the immense pleasure you feel as Margaery picks up the pace.

The Queen's gasps are broken and incoherent, the feeling of your cock repeatedly hitting the right spots within her, stretching her out in the best way, makes it impossible for her to catch her breath.

You lean forward to swipe your tongue across one of her nipples before wrapping your lips around it as you begin sucking.

Margaery lets out a wretched whine at the feeling, she moves her hips harder as you turn your attention to her other breast.

"Does my cock feel good, my love?" You ask, a firm hand against her jaw so she's forced to look at you.

"Yes– so good– You always make me feel so good." Margaery admits in between pants before throwing her head back once again.

You can tell her release is approaching as her movements grow inconsistent, her walls clenched tightly around your girth.

Soon Margaery comes undone on your cock, her moans reverberating through your chambers as the orgasm rips through her.

She goes slack on top of you from the sheer force of it, resting her head on your shoulder as she attempts to catch her breath.

"Seven Hells." Margaery says, you feel her breath against your neck as she does.

**

The Queen is still trembling when you decide to flip your positions, the other woman lets out a gasp as you expertly lift her up before carefully laying her down onto the mattress.

You don't allow Margaery time to question it before you begin your thrusts, your cock still hard, hitting a spot deep within her.

"Oh, Gods– y/n" She moans, her hands find your back, her nails continue digging into your skin as you moved your hips, hard and fast.

With every gasp and moan from Margaery, you retaliate with grunts and groans. Her cunt feels so tight and wet around you, every thrust pushes you closer to your release.

You lean down to kiss the other woman and she kisses you back, open mouthed and messy.

You then tilt your head to do the same to her neck. You sink your teeth into her skin, leaving an ugly bruise just above her pulse point.

Margaery lets out a low groan at the sensation, pulling you closer by the back of your neck.

As the coil in your stomach tightens, you forcibly hold yourself up by your forearms, slowing down your thrusts in the process but keeping them just as deep.

"Shall I release my seed inside of you, sweet girl?" You ask, planting a chaste kiss against Margaery's cheek.

"Make you fat with my child again, would you like that?" You add, your fingers sinking into the flesh of her hip as she keeps her legs firmly wrapped around your waist.

Margaery nods, eager and ready, her own orgasm slowly creeping up on her.

"Yes– please– y/n, fill me with your seed. I wish to bear a dozen of your children, only yours." The Queen says, and it pushes you over the edge.

The coil finally snaps, and you release your seed deep inside Margaery's wanting cunt. At the same time, you feel her walls tighten around you as she lets out a loud moan, the Queen climaxed for the second time that night.

You collapse on top of her, unable to support your own weight any longer. Your bodies now slick with sweat, both of your chests heaving as you ride out your peak.

Margaery gently threads her fingers through your hair as you attempt to regain your strength.

"I love you." The Queen admits earnestly, just above a whisper, and your heart pounds and constricts with adoration for the other woman.

"I love you more." You respond, lifting your head to look at her.

[insonniacaotica]

Jaime Lannister and I spend our days trying to make his and Brienne's relationship work.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62265413/chapters/159297593

[vhagarslasttargyrider]

CASTING— STARKS

part 1

castings & masterlist | starks pt 2

EDDARD “NED” STARK played by SEAN BEAN

The Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, husband to Catelyn (Tully) Stark, and father of 7 kids.

CATELYN STARK played by MICHELLE FAIRLEY

The Lady of Winterfell, loving mother of 6, and the faithful wife to Eddard “Ned” Stark.

ROBB STARK played by RICHARD MADDEN

First born son to Eddard and Catelyn Stark, The King in the North, and The Young Wolf.

[mitzukiyapping]

A Dragon Queen’s Court - Masterlist

Summary: Aera Targaryen. First daughter of the Mad King. The Targaryen that was left behind. The Princess who refused the throne. Raised by Baratheons and Lannisters. She became what no one expected. The woman that the realm needed. A princess that walked amongst the folk and wasn’t afraid of speaking her mind.

Pairing: Oberyn Baratheon x fem!targaryen!oc x Renly Baratheon

Prologue

Part I. (2.8k) - After being imprisoned in her ‘room’ for three weeks, she was finally given her old room back. Not out of kindness, that’s what she knows. During the wedding of the new king, Robert Baratheon, and his new wife, Cersei Lannister, she got company by funny visitors. Together the three went on a mission to gossip about the lords that were in the castle tonight.

Part II. (2.5k) - The queen is pregnant. So, Aera made it her mission to help her, to ease her worries. And so, it was also her duty to overlook what she’s eating, that wouldn’t harm the baby.

Part III. (2.5k) - This time Aera decided it would be a great idea to supervise the king, Robert Baratheon. As well as testing the Kingsguard.

Part IV. (2.8k) - The prince is born. Everyone is glad that everything went well, but it didn’t take long for disaster to strike for the Targaryen Princess. The news have spread as quick as the wind, and didn’t take long before the whole castle knew.

Part V. (2.3k) - The feast for Prince Joffrey has started, but Aera still felt down. So she retreats to the lake in the godswood. There she gets found by the queen, Cersei. After going back to the hall, she meets the young Baratheon, Renly.

Part VI. (2.9k) - It is Aera’s Targaryen fourteenth names day. For once she wishes for peace, but when are her wishes granted. Especially with the Baratheon-Lannister children around. Let’s not forget the drunk king.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

I mean, yes. Pretty much all Westeros noblewomen are boymoms by definition. They have to be. It's a patriarchy, and frequently your only access to power after your husband dies is through your son, your husband's heir. And thus you would have to compete with your son's wife for his love and attention if you want to keep that power. And in the case of royalty like Cersei, it's all the more so.

Though Cersei's particular obsession with her sons is more fucked up than even this fucked up usual, because of her incestuous relationship with Jaime, and her consideration of her children as the perfect union of herself and her "other self". The children also serve as her revenge on her husband and abuser Robert, by cuckolding him and secretly thwarting his legacy.

And of course Cersei's specific hate and fear of any of her sons' wives or betrotheds (Margaery, Sansa) is because of Maggy the Frog's prophecy that another queen would come, "younger and more beautiful", that would lead to Cersei's children's deaths and her downfall.

But yes, to anyone who doesn't know all these details, Cersei would simply come off as an extremely stereotypical boymom.

Boymom Cersei?

[godjustkys]

╰┈➤ ❝ masterlist ❞

SUPERNATURAL ;

- Dean Winchester

perv dean . . .

hate sex with dean . . .

dean smut drabble . . .

older reader x dean smut drabble . . .

older reader x dean smut drabble pt2 . . .

jealous silly dean . . .

passionate car sex with a pathetic dean . . .

dadbod!dean winchester headcanons . . .

fucking dean dumb after a looong week . . .

male reader x dean drabble . . .

male reader x glasses!dean drabble . . .

even more hateful sex with dean . . .

dean’s a bit too big for you . . .

dean winchester x male reader drabble . . .

dean thought you were dead . . .

- Sam Winchester

sam being a total sub . . .

older reader x sam smut drabble . . .

sam with a biter bf . . .

fucking sam while he’s reading . . .

top sam winchester x male reader drabble . . .

- Castiel

cas really wants to please you . . .

male reader x castiel smut drabble . . .

male reader x clingy!castiel drabble . . .

- Andy Gallagher

- Robert Singer

- Crowley MacLeod

fucking crowley on his throne . . .

- TFW

smut headcanons . . .

tfw realize you’re their gay awakening . . .

- MSLNS

male reader x destiel drabble . . .

male reader x destiel smut . . .

HOUSE MD ;

- Gregory House

smut drabble (hj) . . .

frotting with house . . .

- Lisa Cuddy

male reader x lisa cuddy drabble . . .

- James Wilson

- Allison Cameron

- Robert Chase

denying the accusations whilst taking it up the ass (smut) . . .

soft sex with chase after a long day . . .

- Eric Foreman

THE WALKING DEAD ;

- Rick Grimes

- Carl Grimes

- Michonne

- Negan Smith

- Daryl Dixon

gentle sex . . .

- Eugene Porter

- Rosita Espinosa

- Maggie Greene

- Glenn Rhee

- Carol Peletier

- Gabriel Stokes

- Dwight

- Simon

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE ;

- Tony Stark

- Peter Parker

- Bruce Banners

- Thor Odinson

- Loki Laufeyson

- Steve Rogers

nsfw headcanons . . .

- Natasha Romanoff

- Yelena Belova

- Stephen Strange

- Wanda Maximoff

- Clint Barton

- Bucky Barnes

bucky wants you. he wants you, bad . . .

- Sam Wilson

- Wade Wilson

- Peter Quill

- Nebula

- Eddie Brock

- Matt Murdock

- Frank Castle

male reader x frank castle drabble . . . (PLOT.)

- Franklin Nelson

TEEN WOLF ;

- Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski

sex with Stiles . . .

- Scott McCall

- Melissa McCall

- Derek Hale

- Allison Argent

- Lydia Martin

- Isaac Lahey

- Jackson Whittemore

- Peter Hale

- Malia Tate

- Liam Dunbar

- Theo Raeken

- Christopher Argent

MERLIN ;

- Merlin

- Arthur Pendragon

- Morgana Pendragon

- Guinevere

- Lancelot

- Mordred

- Gwaine

- Percival

- Elyan

- Leon

STRANGER THINGS ;

- Mike Wheeler

- Nancy Wheeler

- Will Byers

- Jonathan Byers

- Joyce Byers

- Jim Hopper

- Jane 'Eleven' Hopper

- Lucas Sinclair

- Dustin Henderson

- Steve Harrington

- Eddie Munson

- Robin Buckley

- Maxine Mayfield

- Dmitri 'Enzo' Antonov

- Billy Hargrove

putting billy in his place. (LONG) . . .

ALL; stranger things headcanons . . .

GAME OF THRONES ;

- Ned Stark

breeding the fuck outta the lord of winterfell . . .

- Catelyn Stark

- Robb Stark

- Jon Snow

- Theon Greyjoy

- Sansa Stark

- Arya Stark

- Tywin Lannister

- Jaime Lannister

- Cersei Lannister

- Tyrion Lannister

- Tommen Baratheon

- Joffrey Baratheon

- Daenerys Targaryen

- Sandor Clegane

- Margaery Tyrell

- Brienne of Tarth

- Jaqen H'ghar

F.R.I.E.N.D.S ;

- Rachel Greene

- Phoebe Buffay

- Monica Geller

- Ross Geller

- Chandler Bing

sfw + nsfw headcanons . . .

- Joey Tribbiani

sfw + nsfw headcanons . . .

HARRY POTTER ;

- Harry James Potter

- Hermione Granger

- Ron Weasley

- Fred Weasley

- George Weasley

- Draco Malfoy

- Luna Lovegood

- Neville Longbottom

- Severus Snape

- Sirius Black

- Remus Lupin

FANTASTIC BEASTS ;

- Newt Scamander

- Jacob Kowalski

- Tina Goldstein

- Theseus Scamander

- Aurelius ‘Credence’ Dumbledore

- Albus Dumbledore

BROOKLYN NINE-NINE ;

- Jake Peralta

- Amy Santiago

- Rosa Diaz

- Ray Holt

IT ;

- Richie Tozier

- Eddie Kaspbrak

- Beverly Marsh

- Bill Denbrough

- Stanley Uris

- Ben Hanscom

- Mike Hanlon

DEAD POET'S SOCIETY ;

- Neil Perry

- Todd Anderson

- Charlie Dalton

- John Keating

SHAMELESS ;

- Fiona Gallagher

- Philip Gallagher

- Ian Gallagher

- Debbie Gallagher

- Carl Gallagher

- Liam Gallagher

- Mickey Milkovich

- Mandy Milkovich

SPIDER-MAN UNIVERSE ;

- Peter Parker (A. Garfield)

- Peter Parker (T. Maguire)

- Peter B. Parker

- Miles Morales (Earth 1610)

- Miles Morales (Earth 42)

- Miguel O'Hara

- Hobie Brown

THE BOYS ;

- John ‘Homelander’ Gillman

- Benjamin ‘Soldier Boy’ Hargrove

- Annie ‘Starlight’ January

- William ‘Billy’ Butcher

- Hughie Campbell

- Serge ‘Frenchie’

© godjustkys ©

[s0urw00lf]

Bound

“Lion” and the wolf

Jon snow x reader

Summary: you meet Jon snow and immediately take a liking to him

A/N: may be a series may not be i don’t know yet. I hope it is because I’m hyperfixated on game of thrones right now and there’s only 10 episodes per season. Also is it just me who finds season 1 Jon just adorable?

Divider from @thecutestgrotto

When your father informed you that the king, the queen, and their close relatives including you were to accompany him to winterfell to name lord Stark as his new hand after Jon Arryns passing your first initial reaction was shock, they’d never really considered you a part of their family. Cersei was all about blood relation unless married into the family and you were neither. Therefore casting you to the furthest end of the Lannister/Baratheon family tree. The only ones that really accepted you was your father, Jamie and tommen. Joffrey was way too cruel for his own good, there was no doubt in your mind that it is going to be the reason he ends up dead.

”Must I go father, you and I both know me and Cersei around one another for any extended amount of time is not good for anyone within mere miles of us.” You asked, looking at him through the mirror in your room as your handmaiden braided your hair.

”Yes you must, the king has ordered it” he replied in his usual nonchalant tone. You rolled your eyes “when are we to set off?” You asked.

“By sunrise” he replied “I’ll leave you to sleep you’re going to need it”

your father exited your chambers and soon your handmaiden helped you get settled into your nightwear.

Sleep had not come easy to you. The thought of being in a compressed space with Cersei and Joffrey you’d go as far as to say it gave you nightmares. You are a well behaved lady, you know when and when not to speak and how to butter anyone up. But when it came to the queen and her eldest son you always managed to be sent off with the threat of your head on a spike.

Most of the ride to winterfell was spent bickering with Joeffry, somehow the young prince hadn’t learned how to respect anyone outside of himself, it got so bad that you’d ended up calling him an arrogant bastard which resulted in a slap from Cersei and you riding in the back with your uncle Jamie. Only when you were outside of the walls built around winterfell did you place yourself inside the carriage so you could present yourself as the “perfect family”.

You were introduced to the Stark family after your cousins, you’d heard stories of the bastard boy of Eddard Stark who looked more like a Stark than the eldest Stark boy. He was attractive, Robb. Any woman with eyes could see that, his striking blue eyes stood out against his dark curly hair and pale face. But as you searched more carefully you couldn’t find the other eldest boy. Next to Robb stood Lady Sansa who you knew was the eldest girl but there was one missing between them.

You tapped your uncles shoulder discreetly, he hummed without taking his eyes from in front of him. “There’s a boy missing, the second eldest. Why is he not in lineup with his family?” You questioned silently, watching the king and his old friend reunite, knowing their loud voices would drown out you and your fathers whispers. “Lady Catelyn is not fond of the bastard boy, he's seen as a burden to her. Look beyond the lineup” he answered just as quietly. You frowned at that, you knew what it was like not to be wanted by your family. Blood or not, but your father always made sure you were known as his daughter proudly. He wouldn’t ever dare to hide you no matter how high or low born your guests were. How can you hate a child before he even does anything to deserve your hate?

You took your uncles advice looking beyond the line up, and that’s when you saw him, what they say about him is right, he does look more of a Stark than Robb. He was handsome both brothers were but Jon carried himself differently. Like he was waiting to be seen, accepted. His dark eyes met yours and your heart skipped a beat, he looked to be observing you much like you were doing him. Your long held eye contact must’ve been caught by your uncle who light nudged you. “Careful little lioness” he warned. With that you broke your eye contact with him to look at your uncle. You weren’t sure what he meant but you knew it’d resurface later on.

Cersei greeted the lord and lady after the king, though it wasn’t as warm as his, Cersei had a way of making every moment more tense than it had to be. “Where’s the imp?” The youngest Stark girl said catching you and Cersei’s attention, she turned around and walked toward you and your uncle “where is our brother, go find the little monster” she said to your uncle. You suppressed an eye roll, though your father was your father he still felt to revel in his younger years, though you weren’t sure how he was able to slip passed everyone and escape to whatever it was he was doing.

Later that evening at the feast you were sat alone, much like always unless your father was near. You made effort to search for Jon, and was quickly dissatisfied when he was nowhere in your sights. A loud shriek broke you from your thoughts “Arya! It’s not funny she always does this” you looked over and almost snorted when you saw lady Sansa with food on her face. Your best guess was Arya decided to use her face as target practice.

You weren’t blind to the looks she and your cousin had been sending each other and you guessed the little Stark was feeling mischievous. You caught sight of the oldest Stark boy cutting his laugh short due to the look his mother gave him, he got up walking over to Arya picking her up from her seat and muttering “time for bed” he met eyes with you and sent you a friendly smile, you returned his smile with nod in acknowledgement.

Farther into the night you found yourself wandering around the castle after dinner and ended up on the training grounds. A low grunt caught your attention, you were sure everyone was readying themselves for dinner who would be at the training grounds this late. It was a boy. “So its you” you spoke, catching his attention, he paused his actions turning towards you with a confused expression before he straightened himself up, “My lady are you lost, i can esc-“ you shook your head “i am not lost lord snow-“ ”excuse me My lady, i am not a lord” he put his head down.

You tilted your head at him “you are more of a lord than i am a lady” you told him truthfully. He stared at you in silence, you looked around not noting anyone else “you are alone?” You questioned. He nodded “yes My lady.” He answered. “Would you mind accompanying me, My Lord?” You tilted your head at him giving him the slightest doe eyes. He hadn’t given you a reaction you expected but you did see the blush littering his cheeks. “Of course My lady, where are you off to?”

”I'm just out for a night stroll, it's good I found you, from what I’ve heard you're handy with a sword so I needn’t be on high guard anymore” you told him as you resumed walking. He followed right next to you “do you not have a guard” he questioned looking around to see if there were any men far behind “much to the dismay of my father, no. I can take care of myself but I don't always like to.” You said moving your cloak to the side to show the sword you have stashed.

He looked intrigued by it. “It was my grandfathers i think, my father gave it to me. He said it was the last he could find of my real family.” You frowned. “You're from a high born family, that sword is made of valyrian steel” he said pointing to your sword that was back safely hidden behind your coat. “I am not sure, father won't tell me where he found it, he says he’ll tell me when i'm ready. Anyway enough of me, what about you” you asked looking up at him. “What of me?” He asked. “Do you know your mother?”.

He shook his head “even if i did im not so sure it’d change anything” he said frowning, you hated the crease between his brows. His face showed years of neglect and hatred he endeared and you couldn’t help but to begin to hate it for him. Suddenly you felt no need to continue talking of family, you noticed he didn’t have his furs from earlier that day on anymore. “Are you cold My Lord?” You asked gently. It was as if he had just realized he didn’t have his furs as he looked down at his attire. “We can go to my chambers and warm you, its not very far from here.” You told him.

Jon blushed at the thought “no i shouldn’t it wouldn’t be appropriate, but if you would like me to escort you-” you giggled cutting his sentence short ���very noble Lord snow, yes please escort me to my chambers” you smiled, Jon nodded placing a hand on your lower back leading you further into the castle. The short walk was filled with quiet and easy conversation.

You were almost disappointed when you reached your chambers and your conversation was cut short. “Would you like to come in?” You asked, Jon paused wanting to say yes but not wanting to upset lady Caitlyn if she ever found out. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing i sent you off while your nearly freezing” you tried to persuade him. He shook his head “it would not be appropriate“ “Jon please” you begged “just a few minutes”.

Jon sighed praying to the gods hoping no one saw what he was about to do. He entered your chambers and let out a breath at the warmth. The atmosphere in the room was quiet and gentle. You removed your furs having no further need for them at the moment and placed yourself on your bed. “May i ask a question?” You asked him softly. He broke his stare from the fire and turned to you with a gentle ‘hmm’ “If you feel you do not belong here, then where do you belong?”

Jon felt weird, having never been asked that question before he felt taken aback. He lulled over his answer for a few seconds “at the wall, with my uncle and others like me” he looked down to his clasped hands, seemingly deep in thought. Your heart broke for the boy, he truly felt in some way he wasn’t welcome in his own home. “Are you ready to make that sacrifice? To never have a wife, a family. To pledge your life?” You asked.

He frowned further “No woman will wed to a bastard. My life will have more meaning there than here” He said. You tilted your head “i don't think that to be true, i think some time sooner or later your family will need you here, and if any woman is daft enough not to accept a marriage proposal from you then she didn't deserve you in the first place.”

After that Jon excused himself from your chambers, your words weighing heavy on his shoulders. But his mind was already set, he was joining the night's watch, however that didn’t stop him from repeating your words in his head.

The next morning was when you were finally able to find your father, extremely hungover. “I Missed you yesterday” you said as you came to a halt by his side. “You missed aunt Cersei's fake smiles, uncle Jamie sizing up with lord stark and even worse. Joffrey making eyes with the stark girl.” You rolled your eyes at the last bit. Your father cleared his throat “did i also miss your night stroll with the bastard boy?” He asked.

You froze momentarily, you knew your father wasn’t in a hurry to wed you off, he’d much rather you find love than be in a loveless situation with a man two times your age. But that never stopped him from teasing you about your interests even if its very rare that you have them. “He was just accompanying me to my chambers, father” you spoke looking in every direction but his. He was the only person in the world who could read you like a book. “Ah yes, was he also warming your bed for you?” He turned toward you with a small smile. “You know i would never, i just met the boy”

“love is a fast little creature daughter” he said before walking away.

[fanfictiongirlie]

A Song of Sun and Snow - Chapter One

Click here for Masterlist

Pairings: Robb Stark x Baratheon Reader

Description: You and Robb Stark hated one another. Always had, always will. As the oldest daughter of Robert Baratheon, you had been engaged to Robb for as long as you could remember. He however had always thought of you as a southern bratty princess, and you had thought him as a arrogant jerk. You had reached your 18th name day a few months ago, and in a few weeks you'd be travelling to Winterfell to marry him.

Rating: Explicit (Eventually)

Words: 1,411

P.s: Just something I couldn't get out of my head. No use of Y/N. Only description of 'reader given: the fact that she doesn't look like Joff, Myrcella and Tommen (It's hinted she truly is Robert and Cersei's child) Not much though. Like one line. I wrote this in a different style to my usual style, using 2nd person. Hope it's okay. P.s there will be pregnancy in this, the 'reader' wants to have children. Also the ages are completely different in this fic then they are in the show/book.

You and Robb Stark hated one another. Always had, always will. As the oldest daughter of Robert Baratheon, you had been engaged to Robb for as long as you could remember. He however had always thought of you as a southern bratty princess, and you had thought him as a arrogant jerk. You had reached your 18th name day a few months ago, and in a few weeks you'd be travelling to Winterfell to marry him. You were in Kingslanding for the last time, as you feasted with your family and the Starks. Robb was of course glaring at you from across the table, you noticed his eyes on you, you rolled your eyes and scoffed lightly sending him a dirty look. 

You took another drink from your goblet of wine and turned back to your conversation with Robb's little sister, Sansa. Robb chuckled loudly from his seat, a stupid smirk over his lips, driving you mad was his favourite thing to do. 

A little later into the evening, you had left the feast, you strolled through the castle, sighing softly, knowing you'd be leaving your home soon. Retreating to your favourite room in the castle, the library. Unfortunately Robb had seen you leave the dining hall and decided to follow you, he followed you, hiding within the shadows. 

Once in the library you let out a deep breath, feeling content with the books surrounding you, and happy with finally being alone. You grabbed a random book off the shelf, sat in the huge armchair and began reading. 

After checking nobody was round, Robb entered the library, he chuckled quietly when he saw you sitting comfortable in front of the fire, his feet moved quietly as he walked towards you, and once in front of you, he coughed to get your attention. You looked up at him, instantly feeling annoyed. 

"What do you want, Stark?" You ask, harshly. He looked at you, chuckling, clearly amused at your annoyed face. 

"What do I want, princess? I just wanted to piss you off a little" He answers, smugly. 

"Task achieved, now leave me be" You answer, annoyance dripping from your tone, as you looked up at him. Still dressed in his formal clothes, his hair perfect, ugh it annoyed you. 

"That easy?" He chimes "Didn't take me much effort to piss you off then" He replies with an amused smirk, as he takes a seat near you. 

"I want to be alone" You hiss, your book falling to your lap. 

Robb chuckled again, enjoying how annoyed you were at his presence here. 

"I thought the library was big enough for both of us, princess" 

"Find somewhere else then" You snap, the library was big enough, he could wander to the other end and you wouldn't even have to hear his stupid voice. You tried reading the book again, though since he walked into the room you had read the same sentence at least ten time. 

"Mmm, no, I won't" He leaned back into the chair, crossing his arms behind his head as he continued looking at you, with an amused look. "So I guess you're stuck with me here"

You rolled your eyes at him and then went back to your book. Robb smiled in amusement as he watched you read, he sat quietly watching you try and focus. After some time, he started getting bored and spoke up.

"What are you reading, princess?"

"Huh?" You said, starled from your concentration "Oh..nothing, just a book about cooking recipes" He raised an eyebrow at you. 

"Cooking recipes? The great princess Baratheon heir, is reading s book about cooking?" He asked shock, granted, the shock was warranted. You had never stepped foot in the castle's kitchen to cook, the only time you had been in there was when you and Joff once wanted to steal cakes, that didn't go well. But reading, reading was different, no matter the book, you wanted the knowledge inside. 

"Yes..." You answer him, gritting your teeth. He chuckled loudly, his voice booming through the silent library, it made you flinch slightly, why did he have to be so loud all of the time?

"A princess like you reading books about cooking? I always thought you were too high in the sky to do something as trivial as cooking" 

"You don't know me, Stark" You sneer. He smirked at your words, the fire crackled loudly. 

"Maybe not. But one thing I do know for sure, is that I'm pissing you off" He grinned smugly. 

"Can't believe I have to marry you" You huff loudly. 

"Neither can I" His tone finally matching yours, he didn't want to marry you as much as you didn't want to marry him. "Few weeks princess, and you'll be my wife" He adds, a small smirk on his lips. 

"We shouldn't even be alone" You muttered "My father wouldn't take kindly to it"

"He doesn't have to know, princess, it'll be our little secret" He smirked as he spoke, leaning slightly closer to you. 

"I'd rather not share any secrets with you" You snap, finally giving up on your book and slamming it shut. You watched the fire, watched as the flames flickered, rather than look at him. The warmth of the fire made you feel funny inside, knowing you'd soon be in the land of ice and snow. 

"Don't you trust me?" He said with a feigned look of sadness, holding his hand to his chest as if he were hurt. 

"Of course I don't trust you"

"And here I thought we were actually beginning to bond" He joked, a smirk still on his stupid face. 

"You wish" You say, rolling your eyes. 

"Maybe I do, princess. Maybe I do" He said with that same smirk, he shifted in his sea, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs, his eyes scanned over your face and body. 

"Ugh" You groan as you stand up "I'm going to bed, can't concentrate with you watching me" 

Robb chuckled as he watched you stand up, he copied your actions standing up, he towered over you of course, all northmen were tall. He moved slightly to stand right in front of you. 

"Oh, but I was enjoying the view"

"I don't care, I'm tired, and I'm ready to get this ridiculous dress off..Move Stark" You say annoyed, granted you should of gotten out the dress much sooner, but whenever the Stark's, or anyone visited the royals, you had to wear heavy dresses compared to your comfortable dresses. 

Robb laughed at your annoyed look, he stood there, staring at you refusing to move. "What, you need me to help you out of that ridiculous dress, princess?"

"Piss off" You answer, sneering at him. 

"Watch your tone, princess, that's no way to talk to your future husband" He smirked, stepping a little closer and looking down at you in amusement. His eyes scanned your face and body again, not being discreet about it. 

"I outrank you, Stark, now move" You snap, trying to step passed him. He chuckled again, his eyes darkened slightly as he took a step closer to you, your bodies were almost touching and he leans down in close to your face. 

"Or what, princess?" He asks quietly, his voice dark and low. 

"I'll scream" You say, a smirk on your lips now, if you screamed, the servants would come to your aid, maybe the guards. But Robb laughed again, enjoying the annoyance and anger on your face way too much. 

"You would scream and cause a sandal? That wouldn't be very princess like of you, princess"

You huff again, and push past him harshly, leaving you free to quickly leave the library. Robb didn't even try to stop you, he watched you figure leave the library and then smirked, amused that he'd gotten you so riled up. This marriage might be far more enjoyable than he'd originally thought. 

Once in your room, you cried softly against your pillow, knowing you'd have to marry Robb Stark, the boy you hated, the boy who hated you. 

Robb was still in the library, smiling to himself as he pictured your annoyed look. He thought of the sound of your voice and the way you'd look at him. The anger in your eyes and how your dress hugged your figure as you moved.

He realised at that moment that maybe he didn't hate you as much as he thought he did. 

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @whatelsecouldgowrong

[novaursa]

My god, it feels so weird asking you for a request when they were closed when I met you 😬 ANYWAY-

I feel like it's criminal that there's only one story about Sansa, let's change that, shall we?

Okay here goes, could you please write a Sansa x male!Reader story where he is the young fool of the court?

At the beginning of his job it was all laughter and fun, he juggled, played music, he loved to make everyone laugh with his jokes (especially King Robert's younger children), But since Joffrey became king, he was subjected to humiliation by the latter just to make the him laugh, something he cannot say no to, since, what is the word of a fool compared to that of a king? Something like:

But despite all that, he tries to keep Sansa company and try to maker her happy, knowing that she too has been through a lot since arriving in the capital, and the two begin to form a bond, trying to find comfort in each other.

An extra fact: Reader is (another) bastard son of Robert, but only a few people know it, this also makes him someone considerably tall for his age, making him stand out among the other fools.

Bells for the Broken

- Summary: A story about the lady and her fool.

- Pairing: male!reader/Sansa Stark

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial @literaturedog

- A/N: I've forgotten about that. 😂 Well, you found me and my stories. That's all that matters. 😉

The bells of the Red Keep rang sweet once, in your memory, a song in bronze that danced through the air like the echoes of a lute-string plucked just right. Back then, your days were filled with laughter—true laughter, not the cruel cackling that now echoed from the Iron Throne. You had danced in motley silks, a splash of green and orange, blue bells sewn at the seams, jingling with every bound and twirl. You had juggled apples and daggers, balanced on one foot while reciting ribald tales of knights and kitchen wenches. You had mimicked Lord Varys' whispery lisp, strutted like the Hound, snorted like Lord Renly’s prized warhorse. The children had loved you then. Tommen laughed so hard once he spat out his honeycake. Myrcella clapped her little hands until they turned pink. Even the queen, stiff-lipped as a board, allowed herself the occasional smile—if only because your antics amused her children.

But the air soured the moment Robert Baratheon died, as though the very stones of the Red Keep mourned him. The halls grew colder, shadows longer, and your motley bells didn’t chime so sweetly anymore. Joffrey sat the throne now. And your jests no longer brought laughter unless they came at your expense.

“Come hither, fool,” the boy-king’s voice cracked like a whip across the hall, and you shuffled forward with a crooked grin etched across your painted face. Your bells jingled mournfully, your knees aching as you bowed low on the marble floor. “Sing us your stupid little song,” Joffrey drawled, lounging like a drunk lizard across the throne’s arm. “Or maybe you’d rather bark like the mongrel you are. That’s what bastards are, yes? Mongrels.”

You blinked past the powder and paint, past the snickers of lords and ladies, past the blazing heat of the king’s words. You bowed again and began to hum, slow at first, a tune you once played in the Riverlands, light and lilting. But Joffrey wasn’t pleased. “Too slow,” he snapped, tossing a grape at your head. “Dance! On one leg. Like a cripple!”

So you did. You danced, fool that you were, a bastard of a dead king made to hop and jig for his trueborn son, sweat trickling down your neck under the jester’s cap. And you bore it. You always bore it.

But it was in the garden after one such day—after your leg gave out and the court erupted in laughter, after Ser Meryn’s boot met your ribs to hurry you along—that you found Sansa again, perched on a stone bench beneath the dying sun. Her hair was a river of auburn fire in the light, her hands clasped in her lap, eyes trained on some distant place the rest of you couldn’t see.

“My lady,” you said quietly, approaching like one might a sleeping bird. She turned slightly, not startled—nothing startled her anymore, not since the wolves were taken from her, not since her father’s head had been placed on a spike. “You shouldn’t speak to me,” she whispered. “You’ll only make yourself a target.”

You sat on the edge of the fountain, legs stretched before you, gingerly rubbing the bruise you’d earned earlier. “I already am,” you replied with a crooked smile. “Besides, I like talking to you. You don’t throw things at my head.”

She almost smiled, and that was a small victory. “You were better, before,” she said softly. “When King Robert was alive.”

“So was everyone,” you answered. And for a moment, you both sat in silence, two forgotten souls tucked in the garden shadows, watched only by the stone lions and the rustling of the trees.

It became a habit after that. When you weren’t forced to cavort before the throne, when your bruises didn’t scream loud enough to keep you abed, you found her. Sometimes she would read, and you’d offer voices for the characters. Sometimes she wouldn’t speak at all, and you’d tell her stories—some made-up, some half-true, some you’d stolen from drunken guards in taverns. You told her about a girl from Bear Island who could knock down grown men with a single punch. You told her about the time you stole a pie in Gulltown and ended up locked in a baker’s oven. You told her about the street mummers in Flea Bottom and how they swore one day to perform in the Hall of a Thousand Thrones.

“Did you ever want to be anything else?” she asked you one evening, her voice barely a breath.

“I wanted to be tall,” you quipped. “Turns out I am. Just makes it easier for Joffrey to spot me in a crowd.”

She laughed—an honest laugh, small and soft—and your chest ached at the sound of it. You would suffer tenfold if it meant hearing it again.

One day she took your hand. It was brief, barely more than a brush of fingers on yours, but it stayed with you through every cruel jest, every cup thrown, every bloody bruise. You were a fool, yes. But you weren’t just a fool. You were her fool. And in that, you found something worth dancing for.

You had grown used to the taste of gold—how it clung to your tongue after every jest, how it painted your teeth when you smiled before the throne. The gold of your bells, the gold of the highborn eyes that watched you like a performing dog. But none of it glimmered as much as her, and none of it weighed as heavily on your soul.

The bond between you and Sansa had become something delicate, something stolen—soft conversations beneath the shade of stone lions, laughter muffled behind gloved fingers, glances that lingered too long. You brought her a carved wooden bird once, whittled in secret behind the rookery with a dull knife and your aching fingers. She touched it like it was made of glass. “You’re very good,” she murmured, and her eyes shimmered. “Better than the poets who flatter me with empty songs.” You bowed with a flourish, then made her giggle by dropping to one knee and proposing marriage with the bird held like a ring.

Of course, the illusion never lasted. The court was poison dressed in silk and perfume, and Joffrey’s presence infected every corridor like rot beneath a painted wall. The wedding was no different—grand, garish, and grotesque. The Sept of Baelor had shuddered with song and scent, flowers in bloom and oil glistening on every marble column. You had danced as part of the feast’s entertainment, paired with a dwarf in mock armor and made to reenact the War of the Five Kings, pretending to be your own father, Robert, though no one knew. You did it with a smile painted across your face, juggling swords as Joffrey clapped like a delighted child and Sansa looked away, her mouth pressed into a line of shame.

It was after the pie—doves fluttering, blood spattering white silk—that things turned.

“More wine!” Joffrey barked, raising his cup with a leer. “Let’s see the fool do a handstand! A bastard’s trick from a bastard’s bastard!” You were already halfway through your bow when you saw it. His face, the color draining like ink spilled in water. His throat bulging with the effort to breathe. And then the clawing, the sound of choking, of gasps and gagging. A scream. Another. The goblet clattered to the floor, rolling near your foot.

You didn’t think. You looked at her.

Sansa’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide in horror, frozen like a deer on a winter road. The musicians stopped. Ser Meryn shouted something. The Queen screamed. You lunged across the floor, grabbing her wrist.

“Come,” you hissed. “Now.”

She didn’t resist. She couldn’t. You yanked her from the chaos, through a crush of stunned courtiers and clattering plates. No one noticed you at first—what was a fool and a lady next to a dying king? But you heard the shouts. “He’s choking!” “Find Maester Pycelle!” “Seize him!”

You ran.

The bells on your motley cap jangled wildly as you dragged her through the back corridors of the feast hall, servants scattering in your wake. Your heart thundered in your chest—not from fear, not yet, but from some raw instinct burning hot and red inside your ribs. Her hand was cold in yours, trembling, but she kept up. Her skirts tangled around her legs, and she stumbled once, but you caught her before she hit the ground.

“You knew this would happen,” she panted, voice wild with disbelief. “Didn’t you?”

“No,” you gasped, yanking open a wooden door that led to the scullery. “But I knew it would be our only chance.”

Steam rolled from the kitchens. You led her through the heat and fire, past spit-boys and startled cooks, pushing down the scent of roasted pork and sweat. “There’s a passage,” you said, pulling her into the shadows of a pantry. “A rat-run I used when I used to steal lemon cakes from the cellar.”

“And where does it go?” she asked, breathless, voice trembling.

“Out,” you said simply. “To the docks, if we’re lucky.”

It was narrow, barely enough for one person to crouch through, and it reeked of damp stone and rot. You went first, hands slick against the walls, ears trained for the sound of bootsteps. Behind you, Sansa crawled, her breathing ragged, her soft silks dragging against the filth.

When at last the tunnel opened, it was night, and the sky was painted in bruised indigo, the air thick with the stink of fish and the creak of ship ropes. Dock lanterns flickered in the distance. You helped her out of the hole, pulling her into your arms as she emerged, wide-eyed and shaking.

“We did it,” you said, voice hoarse. “We’re out.”

She turned to you then, really looked at you—the fool in painted face, clothes torn and smeared, the bastard of the king whose name she had once prayed to, now her savior in the dark.

“Why?” she asked, and her voice cracked. “Why would you help me? You could be killed for this.”

You looked at her, the girl who had once dreamed of songs and golden-haired knights, who now knew better.

“Because I remember what it’s like to be afraid,” you said softly. “And I couldn’t watch them break you too.”

She threw her arms around you then, sudden and fierce, her breath warm against your neck. And for a moment, the city and its lies faded behind you, and all you could hear was the water lapping against the boats and her heartbeat against your chest.

You were still her fool. And you would follow her anywhere.

[c0ffe3c4t]

❝ THE WOLF AND THE LION MAKE A RARE COMBINATION. ❞

PAIRING : Cersei Lannister x Male! Stark! Reader

SYNOPSIS : Lovers were made to defy fate, even when it tears them apart.

WARNINGS : Explicit sexual content, mentions of violence, torture, toxic relationship, attempted murder, murder, morally questionable actions, infidelity.

They say that first love is never forgotten, and the one between Reader and Cersei was one that overflowed with the inevitability of destiny. Wolf and Lion, Lannister and Stark, two forces so antagonistic that, when united, they seemed to defy all logic. Their story was more than a forbidden love; it was a bond so deep that neither the whispers of the court, nor betrayals, nor the weight of the years could undo it. Over the years, their relationship shifted from a secret, fiery romance to a silent, almost imperceptible alliance, where they no longer recognized each other as lovers, but as something more: as those who were made to be together, despite the fate that opposed them.

Though their love began in darkness, in the shadows of broken promises and unlikely alliances, what grew between them was more than passion: it was an unbreakable complicity. Cersei loved Reader like no one else. He was not only her first lover, her first betrothed, her first everything, but also the only person who ever understood the desire and fear that nestled in her heart. When her engagement was torn apart to marry Robert Baratheon, a close friend of Reader’s, her world collapsed. But that was not enough to separate them. It couldn’t, and she didn’t want it to. The passion they shared didn’t die; it grew in secret, fueled by the certainty that, despite everything, their love would endure.

Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella were the tangible proof of their hidden relationship. Bastards born from a love that no one saw, but that had always been there. As for Reader, he also came to know fatherhood with the birth of Sansa, a daughter born under painful circumstances, after the death of his wife, Cassandra Tully. He had never loved Cassandra, but he didn’t hate her either. Her death was a silent shadow that never disappeared, but Sansa filled that space with her presence. And despite the discomfort in his chest from losing the mother of his daughter, his love for her was a comfort in his heart.

Cersei, for her part, had loved Reader with the purity of a first love that neither time nor ambition could corrupt. In fact, over the years, she came to forget her desire to be queen. She didn’t care about the throne or the crown; all she wanted was him. Only him. No one else could take his place, no one else could understand her the way he did. The ambition for power faded when she realized that Reader’s love was all she needed, more than any golden crown.

Fate, however, had other plans. When Jon Arryn discovered their secret, he planned to reveal the truth to Robert, but death came to him from a sudden “illness,” and Reader was named Hand of the King. Upon arriving in the capital, his relationship with Cersei not only continued but intensified. They found each other once more, between the shadows and hallways of a palace full of lies. The walls could hear their whispers, and the servants saw the looks charged with desire, but the world would never know the truth they shared.

Yet, it didn’t matter what the world thought. Cersei and Reader, despite their flaws, were two beings destined to unite, two souls born to intertwine despite the challenges life presented them. Both were selfish, ambitious, bad people by the court’s judgment, but together, in their secret union, they were invincible. Wolves disguised as lambs, ruling with cunning and passion, while the world beyond their doors continued to ignore who they truly were.

Fate could try to separate them, but they would always, always find their way back to each other. Because somewhere in the universe, where the stars couldn’t see, the wolf and the lion had chosen each other, and there was no force in this world or the next that could break that bond.

Made to be together, they always had been. Though the world was a stage of lies and betrayals, they remained the only truths amidst the chaos. And perhaps that was the most beautiful thing of all: that their love, though veiled in shadows, was stronger than anything that could separate them.

Cersei Lannister was not a particularly affectionate woman. Her love, when she gave it, was often harsh, wrapped in thorns, camouflaged in biting words and sharp looks. But she knew Reader well enough to notice when something tormented him, when the demons of his mind swirled around him with an intensity that not even the strongest wine could dissipate.

That morning, she found him sitting by the window, a cup in his hand, his gaze lost in the horizon. The golden sunlight of King’s Landing illuminated his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw, the shadow of a thought he didn’t share with anyone.

Without a word, Cersei approached and slid a hand across his cheek, an unexpectedly gentle gesture. Reader blinked, surprised, and their eyes met. In silence, she brought her palm to her lips and placed a soft kiss on his skin.

—Since when are you so melancholic? —Cersei murmured with a hint of mockery, though she didn’t move her hand.

Reader didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he drew Cersei closer and rested his head against her hip, like a wolf seeking refuge in its lioness. Her scent enveloped him, that intoxicating mix of wine and floral perfume that felt so familiar.

—I’m not melancholic —he finally replied, his usual nonchalant tone, though his posture betrayed something else.

Cersei clicked her tongue, running her fingers through his hair absentmindedly.

—Of course not —she said with a sly smile—. You’re just clinging to me like a puppy needing affection.

Reader let out a low laugh, not moving.

—I’m surprised you didn’t call me a “dog” instead of a “puppy.”

—I respect you too much for that —Cersei replied, pretending to be serious. Then, leaning in just slightly, she whispered against his ear—. Besides, wolves are much more entertaining.

Reader shook his head, smiling faintly.

—If this is your way of consoling me, I must say it’s terribly ineffective.

Cersei laughed softly, tangling her fingers in his hair with a gesture that seemed more instinctive than deliberate.

—I don’t console —she said with her usual arrogance—. But if you want a distraction… I can offer that.

Reader raised an eyebrow, looking up at her.

—you have a very particular idea of what compassion is, dear.

—And you of what distraction is? —Cersei retorted with a mischievous smile, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

Reader sighed and, without thinking much, rubbed his face against Cersei’s fine dress, enjoying the texture of the fabric against his skin.

—Sometimes you’re so tame, did you know that? —she said with amusement and a hint of curiosity.

—You’re comfortable, beautiful —he replied, his voice muffled against the fabric.

Cersei let out a brief laugh, part amused, part incredulous.

—you could have said something more poetic.

—I could have —he conceded—, but I prefer the truth.

Cersei sighed, but didn’t pull away. Her fingers continued to slide through his hair absentmindedly, as if the gesture had become a silent habit between them. It wasn’t something she would do with anyone, not even with her own children, but Reader had always been the exception.

—Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you’d better fix it quickly —she said in her usual carefree tone, though there was a hidden truth in her words—. I don’t like seeing you like this.

Reader smiled faintly.

—Do you care about my well-being?

Cersei clicked her tongue.

—Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just saying I don’t like seeing you with that beaten-dog look. It ruins my mood.

Reader let out a soft chuckle.

—Oh, how considerate of you.

—I know —she said with a teasing smile.

Definitely, the lion and the wolf were a strange combination, two beasts who shouldn’t coexist, but somehow, they worked. In their twisted way, their love was a balance between arrogance and devotion, between mockery and loyalty. And, against all odds, they kept choosing each other. Again and again.

୨୧

The Red Keep was a labyrinth of intrigue and silence, but that night, the solitude of the walls and the flickering shadows of the candles created the perfect atmosphere for a forbidden meeting.

Cersei had entered without warning, as always, with her elegant bearing and presence that seemed to fill every corner of the room. Reader was at his desk, going through some papers, but their eyes met with the same intensity they had crossed paths with so many times before. There were no words at first, just a look, one that carried more history and desire than words could describe.

Cersei approached, not in a hurry, with a smile on her lips that reflected a mix of amusement and challenge.

—Don't you get tired of working so much, Reader? —Her voice was soft, but there was something sharp about it, as always.

—And don't you get tired of entering without being invited? —he replied, not lifting his eyes from the papers, though his tone suggested he enjoyed the situation.

Cersei walked towards him, with the confidence that defined her, and when she reached his side, her fingers lightly touched his shoulders, moving up toward his neck. Her proximity always had an effect on him, though he tried not to show it.

—Sometimes I wonder how someone as... serious as you can be so much fun. —Cersei let out a low laugh, one that was both a mockery and an invitation.

Reader finally lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting hers, and the tension between them became palpable. It wasn't the first time Cersei was in his space, and it wasn't the first time they shared such closeness. Both knew that what existed between them was something impossible, something that should never exist, but like a sweet poison, it always resurfaced.

—Maybe it's because I'm so serious that I make things more interesting for you. —His tone grew a little more challenging, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Cersei couldn't help but smile again, this time more seductively. Without saying more, she sat in Reader's lap, without asking permission. Her body adjusted easily to his, and her hands began playing with the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them with an almost exasperating slowness, while her lips brushed against his neck with that familiarity only Cersei could achieve.

—You're very confident for someone who doesn't have control, —she said, as her hands slid over his skin.

Reader, with a smile that escaped between his lips, held her hips, not with force, but with a gentleness that conveyed everything they both knew, even though they didn't speak it aloud.

—And you, very impatient for someone who has everything under control. —His voice was filled with sarcasm, but also a calm amusement.

Cersei laughed, moving a little more, enjoying the game between them. He was her challenge, her temptation, and although both knew it wasn't something meant to last longer than the night could offer, there was something about those stolen moments that was irresistible.

—We'll see who has control in the end, Reader —she said, raising an eyebrow as her lips sought his, trapping him in a kiss that left them both breathless for a moment.

And so, the distance between them faded once again, in a secluded corner of the Red Keep, where shadows danced and time seemed to stop. Without words, without promises, only the heat of their bodies and the need to give in to a dangerous, yet inevitable desire.

In the heart of the darkness, unseen by anyone, the wolf and the lion surrendered to their own game. A forbidden love, but one that always found a way to be reborn, time and time again.

The candles flickered with the night breeze, casting trembling shadows on the walls of the Hand of the King's chambers. Cersei's wine glass had been forgotten on the table, and the only thing left between them was the shared warmth of their bodies and the tension that always enveloped them when they were alone.

Cersei was still on him, with her lap as an improvised throne, Reader's hands firm on her waist, as if he were holding her there purely by instinct. She played with the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them with an almost irritating slowness, while a mocking smile adorned her lips.

—You're always so patient, —she whispered, brushing her lips against his without kissing him completely—. I wonder how much more you can bear.

Reader let out a sigh, part amused and part exasperated.

—Patience is a virtue, dear.

—A virtue you don't have, —she replied, sliding a nail down his exposed collarbone.

He raised an eyebrow.

—You offend me.

Cersei smiled maliciously, leaning in slightly to bite his lower lip softly before trapping it in a deep kiss, one that he responded to with equal intensity. Her hands slowly descended down his sides until they met the ribbon of her dress, but before releasing it, she paused.

—Doubt? —she teased, her voice barely a whisper.

—No —he answered without hesitation—. I just enjoy watching how impatient you become when you don't have control.

Cersei let out a soft, dangerous laugh.

—I let you believe you have control because it amuses me, not because it's true.

Reader smiled to the side, not taking his eyes off hers.

—Then amuse me.

The air between them grew even thicker, and this time, there were no more provocations, just the brush of skin against skin, the broken sound of their breaths, and the echo of a love that was never meant to exist... but always found a way to be reborn in the dark.

Cersei adjusted herself better on his lap, moving just enough to provoke a reaction in him. Reader didn't give her the satisfaction of reacting immediately, although his grip on her waist tightened slightly. The queen noticed and smiled, with that sly expression that had always fascinated and exasperated him equally.

—You still haven't done anything, —she murmured against his ear, her warm breath sending a shiver down his spine.

Reader let out a low laugh, tired but amused.

—Since when do you enjoy torturing me so much?

Cersei ran her fingers along the opening of his shirt, her nails barely grazing his skin.

—Since I discovered how easy it is to make you lose your head.

He looked at her with feigned indifference, though his eyes betrayed him. It was always like this between them. A dangerous game, a constant struggle for control that, in the end, they were both willing to lose.

—What if someone enters? —he asked, his tone clearly mocking.

Cersei let out a soft laugh.

—You're the Hand of the King, no one would dare interrupt you.

—Oh, what an honor —he said sarcastically, finally sliding a hand to remove her low-cut dress.

She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation, before looking at him with intensity.

—Is that all you've got, Stark? —she challenged, with a dangerous smile.

Reader smiled to the side.

—You tell me.

There were no more words. They didn't need any.

Reader, without letting go of her, lifted her with surprising ease, his hands firm on her hips. He carried her to the large mahogany desk, gently letting her fall onto the cold, polished surface. The impact made her moan, a low, guttural sound that echoed in the silence of the room. Her dress, already partially torn from their passionate struggle, slid down her legs, exposing her naked body, her breasts pressing against Reader's chest.

—Shit, Stark... —Cersei gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her full, firm breasts moved with each thrust, brushing against his skin, creating friction that sparked the fire of her desire even more.

Reader looked at her, the intensity in his eyes reflecting the passion that consumed them. With slow, deliberate movements, he began to penetrate her, his body moving against hers with a force that made her arch over the desk. Each thrust was a strike, a claim, an act of possession.

—You're a delicious whore, Cersei... —murmured Reader, his voice rough with pleasure. His hands gripped her hips, squeezing tightly, as his body moved in an unrelenting rhythm.

—Fuck... yes... more... —Cersei moaned, her words broken by pleasure. Her nails scratched his back, leaving red marks that would soon become memories of their encounter. Her breasts, pressed against his chest, moved with each thrust, the friction intensifying the sensation.

The sound of their bodies colliding, the rubbing of skin against cold mahogany, the gasping of their breaths intertwined, filled the room with a symphony of unrestrained passion. Reader kissed her fiercely, his lips seeking hers, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hungry urgency. His hands roamed her body, caressing her skin, exploring every curve, every inch.

—I want you... —Cersei whispered, her voice barely audible among her moans. The words, spoken in the middle of ecstasy, carried greater weight, an intensity that transcended mere physical pleasure. It was a total surrender, a confession of love and desire amid the whirlwind of their bodies.

Reader, overcome by passion, thrust into her with more force, his body moving with brutal intensity. Cersei moaned, her body arching, her fingers gripping his hair. The pleasure intensified, a wave that dragged them both to a point of no return. Their bodies became one, a whirlwind of sensations that took them to the limit.

—Bastard... —Cersei gasped, just before reaching climax. Her body tensed, a powerful release that left her trembling, exhausted but satisfied.

Reader collapsed on top of her, his body heavy on hers. Silence returned, broken only by the sound of their labored breaths and the rapid beating of their hearts. The heat of their intertwined bodies, the scent of their sweat, and the memory of their passion remained as an indelible mark on the cold mahogany of the desk. The wolf and the lion, united in a wild and dangerous act of love, had surrendered completely to the storm of their desire.

୨୧

Reader was not known for being a good person. His reputation was dark, tainted by the shadows of his past. During Robert's Rebellion, he had played a feared and bloody role, a man willing to capture and torture those on the opposite side of the Lannisters. Those who did not yield under the weight of his interrogations knew that the reward for their resistance was even more cruel: the torture with which he extracted secrets, breaking men down to their bones, to their souls. The stories that circulated about him said that he had even forced a direwolf, with black fur and a mark around its eye, to tear apart alive the men who dared to be loyal to the Targaryens. There was no mercy in his methods, no remorse, only the need to get what he wanted, at any cost.

Cersei, of course, was not much different. Though her name was wrapped in the gold of House Lannister and the intrigues of the court, her heart was as hardened as Reader's. She, the woman who had witnessed betrayals, murders, who had maneuvered through shadows with cunning and without hesitation, dirtying her hands with blood if necessary. She was not the protective mother she pretended to be, nor the just queen the stories claimed her to be; her ambition and desire for power were above all else, even the family bonds she so loudly proclaimed. The idea of morality was never something Cersei embraced; the end always justified the means, and her enemies were always enemies to the death.

In the context of their relationship, both Reader and Cersei understood each other in their harsh view of the world. It was not about finding comfort in each other, but about finding a unique complicity, one that only men and women willing to dirty their hands could understand. They were two pieces of the same board, willing to do whatever it took to win, regardless of what the rest of the world thought of them.

Of course, they knew they were not good, nor did they pretend to be. On the contrary, they embraced their darkness, knowing that the world they lived in left no room for the weak. In that sense, there was a palpable attraction between them: both moved through the same shadows, willing to do whatever necessary to seize power, even if it meant descending into vileness.

Reader did not expect Cersei to understand him in the same way that he understood her. Their minds were as sharp as their swords, but they shared a mutual respect for their indifference toward good and evil. There was only what they wanted, what they needed, what they were willing to sacrifice to achieve their goals. And in that moral abyss, they found each other again, seeking solace in the company of another monster, knowing that the world would not stop to judge them.

It was a dirty game, one of power, of survival, and both knew that in this game, only the most ruthless would come out victorious.

୨୧

Reader wrapped his arms around Cersei’s waist from behind, his hands gliding over her abdomen with deceptive softness. He leaned in just enough to leave a kiss on her bare shoulder, a gesture almost absent, more habit than tenderness. Cersei, with her gaze lost in the dimly lit room, didn’t react immediately. Her thoughts were elsewhere, and he noticed.

—I don’t like it when you get like this —murmured Reader against her skin, his warm breath sliding over her collarbone.

Cersei let out a soft sigh before responding.

—The boy woke up.

Reader paused his caresses for a moment. He didn’t need to ask which boy she was referring to. Bran Stark. Her nephew. The little one who, without thinking too much, had seen them kiss and halfway undress, and hadn’t hesitated to throw him from the tower. Not with hate, not even with rage, but with the cold determination of a man who knew secrets were nothing more than daggers waiting to pierce the backs of the careless.

—And he still doesn’t remember anything —Reader replied, his tone indifferent, though it didn’t quite match the tension in his jaw.

Cersei then turned to face him, her golden eyes sharp as the edge of a sword.

—For now. But if he ever does…

—If he ever does, we’ll take care of it —Reader declared, placing a hand on her cheek. His thumb caressed her skin with an unexpectedly intimate gesture, briefly dispelling the coldness of the matter they were concerned with.

Cersei tilted her face slightly, enjoying the touch. Despite everything, Reader always had that way of calming her mind, anchoring it to the present.

—We can’t afford mistakes —she whispered, more to herself than to him.

—We’ve never allowed them, and we won’t start now —Reader murmured, drawing close enough for their lips to brush in a silent promise.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she slid her fingers through his hair, gripping it as if she could extract certainty from the contact. Then, with the same calm with which they shared every dangerous secret, their lips met in a slow kiss, more possessive than affectionate.

Reader smiled faintly against her mouth.

—Don’t look at me like that —he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

—Like what? —Cersei asked, arching an eyebrow.

—Like you want to devour me.

Cersei let out a brief laugh and tangled her fingers in his hair more firmly.

—Maybe I will.

Reader tilted his head, his gaze burning.

—Do it.

And as so many times before, amidst intrigue and danger, they abandoned themselves to each other in the only certainty they had left: their own.

Reader loved Cersei, and Cersei loved Reader. It was not a tender or gentle love, but a love that was ravenous, possessive, and dark, fueled by desire and ambition. They belonged to each other, body and soul, but more than that, they consumed each other with a mutual obsession.

They understood each other on a level beyond words. Reader could read in Cersei’s golden eyes every thought, every fear disguised as arrogance. And she, in turn, knew that he would never hesitate to stain his hands with blood for her, just as she would for him. No boundaries or morals mattered, only the two of them.

—You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you? —Cersei whispered, a cryptic smile on her lips as she ran her fingers along the line of his jaw.

—You know I would —Reader replied without hesitation, leaning in to brush his lips against hers, barely a touch but full of silent promises.

—Even if it meant burning the entire world?

—On the ashes, you’d still be my queen.

Cersei smiled, satisfied with the answer, and pulled him closer, intertwining her fingers in his hair. They kissed with the same passion with which they ruled, with the same intensity with which they destroyed.

They weren’t the kind of love that inspired bards’ songs. They were the kind of love that would be whispered over wine, the kind of love that brought ruin to those who stood in their way. And yet, neither of them cared.

Because in the game of power, the only safe refuge they had was in each other.

—Maggie ☕

[cinmngirlnfr]

Masterlist

Characters:

Edmund Pevensie

Billy Hargrove

Reese Wilkerson

Juan Borgia

Padme Amidala

Draco Malfoy

Harry Potter

Dr. House

Dr. Remy Hadley

Dr. Lisa Cuddy

Dr. Lawrence Kutner

Benedict Bridgerton

Finnick Oddair

Karen Sirko

Young Coriolanus Snow

Lucy Gray

Carl Gallagher

Luke Skywalker

Anakin Skywalker

Han Solo

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Leia Organa

Faramir

Aragorn

Arwen

Eowyn

Frodo

Pippin

Sansa Stark

Jon Snow

Robb Stark

Theon Grejoy

Daenerys Targaryen

Viserys Targaryen III

Cersei Lannister

Jamie Lannister

Tyrion Lannister

Lady Melisandre

Margaery Tyrell

Tommen Baratheon

Aemon Targaryen

Jacerys Velaryon

Tywin Lannister

Alicent Hightower

Celebrities:

Nikki Sixx

Colby Brock

Roger Taylor

Izzy Stradlin

Jimmy Page

Billie Joe Amstrong

Suki Waterhouse

Emilia Mernes

Stevie Nicks

Sabrina Carpenter

Ships:

Everlarck (Peeta x Katniss)

Lucy Gray x Snow

Finnick x Annie

Hinny (Harry x Ginny)

Polin (Penelope x Colin)

Padme x Anakin

Han x Leia

[insonniacaotica]

I think that, deep down, Myrcella and Tommen would have wanted to know about their bastard sibligs/would have been curious about them.

[kingnlionhearts]

Lionheart ✶ Chapter Four

Robb Stark x Taryn Baratheon (oc)

note: happy valentine's day!

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

Taryn awoke late in the morning. Winterfell was half empty with the men having left on their hunt at dawn. Not wanting to disturb her siblings from their restful slumber when Taryn returned from her walk with Robb, which had lasted late until the feast was ending, Taryn had borrowed her little sister’s bed for the night. And while Tommen attended sparring lessons with Joffrey and the Stark boys, Myrcella and Taryn sat in on the girls’ sewing lesson.

Having had a needle poised between her fingers since she was six, Taryn had spent many hours hunched over fabric and it showed. She had the most experience and her embroidery was the best, but Sansa Stark was giving Taryn a run for her money.

Listening to Septa Mordane’s instructions, Taryn had taken a seat beside Alys, Robb’s twin sister, and her friend Elia Dayne, a Dornish girl who was even further from home than Taryn was. The Stark’s septa was sat with Myrcella, admiring the little Princess’ crooked stitches. Taryn smiled when her sister showed off her proud grin. Alys’ sister Arya sat with Taryn, Alys and Elia too, to get as far away from her sister Sansa as possible.

Arya gave a sudden huff, frowning at the crooked stitches she had made. Taryn looked down at the Stark girl. “You’re doing better than I did at your age.” It was a small lie, but Taryn hoped Arya wouldn’t notice.

Arya looked at the Princess and the neat embroidery in her hands. “That’s not true.”

Septa Mordane turned away from Myrcella. “Arya! Don’t be rude to the Princess.”

Taryn laughed. “It’s quite alright. Here, would you like some help?”

She watched Arya glance past her, looking at Alys who gave her an encouraging nod, and Sansa who was occupied with her circle of friends. Arya gave a stiff nod. “Look really close at the tiny holes in the fabric. I used to scribble a line in pencil so I could see where I was stitching. Don’t squint too much or you’ll hurt your eyes, but try making smaller stitches like this…” Taryn took Arya’s small hand and demonstrated, poking the needle through the fabric, pulling through and out the other end.

It took a couple of tries and then Taryn let Arya make her own stitches, which turned out much neater. Arya grinned. “Thank you.”

Their lesson was interrupted by Robb. All the girls stopped their work and turned to look at him.

“Septa, might I steal Princess Taryn for a short while?” he asked, smiling over at Taryn. Robb’s smile made his blue eyes glow brighter. It was infectious, Taryn found herself smiling too. She did not realise a simple smile could make her heart beat a little faster, but Robb’s did and she wasn’t quite sure why.

Septa Mordane made no complaint. Taryn set her needlework down and left with the heir of Winterfell. They walked outside together, Taryn’s hand fitting in the crook of Robb’s arm.

“I’m going to make a fool of myself,” she said as they walked towards the stables.

Robb laughed. “I’m sure you won’t. Besides, there is no one here to see you.” He motioned around the courtyard, still empty. Robb had skipped the hunt in favour of seeing her. The thought made Taryn’s heart thudder. They would have their whole lives together, yet Robb still offered to spend time with her now. Taryn was grateful — she wanted to spend time with him too.

There were still a few horses left in the stables — old and tame, Robb called them. “Not as fast for hunting anymore, but perfect for learning with.”

Taryn realised how little she actually knew about horses. She tried to help Robb saddle the horse he picked for her — soft brown with one white ear — but he gave her an apple to feed the horse instead.

“It’ll keep her calm,” Robb explained. “Let her get used to you. And don’t be afraid.”

Taryn giggled as the horse ate the apple from her open palm. She ran a hand up and down the horse’s face. Once the saddle and reins were secured, Robb called Taryn to his side. She had seen many men mount a horse before but now she had to try, she didn’t know how they did it.

Robb manoeuvred himself so he stood behind Taryn. “Left foot in the stirrup. Put your hands here. And pull yourself up.”

“What if I fall?”

“You won’t. I’ve got you.” Robb set his hands on Taryn’s hips. She gripped the edge of the saddle tighter, warmth growing on her cheeks, as he helped hoist her up onto the horse. “There you go! How do you feel?”

Taryn looked around the courtyard. “Tall. Very tall.”

They both laughed. “I’ll ask Alys if you can borrow some of her riding gear next time.”

“Next time?”

“You can’t learn a new skill and only use it once,” Robb said. “Now–” He touched her knee, fingers splayed against her thigh. Taryn stared down at him. “You have to sort of hug the horse with your legs, but not too tightly. And hold the reins like this.” Robb demonstrated and held Taryn’s hands in his as he adjusted her grip. “You’re doing great. Let’s get you moving.”

Robb was very patient with her — especially when she cried out as soon as the horse moved, scared she was about to fall. (“I can’t sit on the horse with you to keep you safe. But you won’t fall, even if you do I’ll catch you.”)

He showed her how to walk and trot and steer until Taryn felt sure enough to guide her horse in circles without Robb holding onto the reins and walking beside them. It did not take long for the fear that had clung to Taryn’s chest when she first sat atop the horse to dissipate. That was until a direwolf ran through the courtyard and gave the horse a terrible fright, making Taryn cry out in surprise — thank the gods, Robb was quick to settle the horse before she could try and throw Taryn from the saddle.

“Are you alright?” Robb asked. One hand on the reins, one hand on Taryn’s thigh to steady her.

Taryn nodded, her fingers tense against the reins.

Robb was looking up, eyes searching against the walls of the castle. “Bran!”

Taryn’s head turned to see Brandon Stark climbing the wall above the stable. “I’m sorry!” he called down. He whistled to his wolf — still without a name — and scurried away over the wall, the pale wolf running along the ground behind him.

Robb chuckled. “I don’t expect any horse will grow used to a direwolf any time soon. Hopefully Grey Wind will forgive me for not taking him with us.”

Taryn gave a puzzled expression as Robb disappeared back into the stable and re-emerged a moment later with another horse, saddled and ready. “Where are we going?” she asked as he mounted the horse with practised ease.

“The Wolfswood is two miles away,” Robb explained. “We will start in that direction and see how you’re doing.”

***

Taryn quickly found that she adored riding. Even at a slower pace to get her used to the way the horse moved under her, she found herself grinning into the breeze. Hair tousled and her legs burning, Taryn felt free. She could not help but feel disappointed when she and Robb returned to Winterfell before their fathers came back from their hunt.

Robb helped her down when they arrived back at the stables. Fire spread across Taryn’s body when Robb gripped her waist to steady her in her dismount. When he let her go she felt cold, and Taryn never wanted to feel cold again.

“You’re a natural,” Robb told her.

“I just had a good teacher.” Taryn grinned.

“You’ll have to teach me something next.”

The Princess laughed. “I’m sure all my lessons would keep you very interested,” she said sarcastically. “But I dare say your sisters would find it amusing if you took part in their sewing lessons.”

“Gods.” Robb shared her laughter. “Alys made me once. I pricked myself so many times I thought Septa Mordane would give me a thimble for every finger.”

A guard approached them as Taryn and Robb walked away from the stables — one of Taryn’s mother’s personal staff.

“Princess.” The guard gave a stiff bow. Taryn and Robb turned. “Your mother requests to see you.”

An eager smile graced Taryn’s lips. She turned back to Robb, dropping into a small curtsey. “Thank you for the lesson.” She fell into step with the guard to go find her mother.

The North and Cersei Lannister were not compatible. Taryn’s mother preferred finer things, the cold and misty damp of Winterfell was not for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. If Taryn did not have to adapt to the North now she would spend her life there, she would surely share her mother’s tolerance. Dressed in scarlet and fur, Cersei brought her eldest child into her arms once Taryn arrived.

The Queen scrunched her nose up, cutting their warm embrace short as she held Taryn at arm’s length to study her. Tousled curls, mud splatters across her dress, she did not look very ladylike, much less like a princess. “You smell of horse.”

Taryn gave a guilty smile. “Robb taught me how to ride.”

Cersei reclaimed her seat by the window, Taryn sat next to her. It was warm inside, a welcome contrast to the cold morning. “Just do not turn wild while you are living here,” Cersei warned. “There will be enough Starks in King’s Landing without my daughter turning into a wolf.”

Despite her mother’s seriousness, Taryn managed a chuckle. “I am a Baratheon and a Lannister first. I cannot see myself turning wild that quickly.”

Cersei’s eyes softened. She looked away from Taryn, turning back to the window to look down upon the world around them. “Will he make you happy?”

After five years of letters and the feeling of wind in her hair, Taryn nodded with utter certainty. “I think so.”

The Queen took her daughter’s hands tightly in her own. “If you have any doubt about him, even for a second, you will tell me.”

“Robb is a good man, Mother. He’ll be good to me.”

“You have a soft heart, my sweet girl.” Cersei cupped Taryn’s face in her hands. They looked so similar, except for their eyes. Taryn was always jealous of her siblings and her mother’s emerald eyes. “I pray it doesn’t destroy you.”

[thecourtoflionsandwolves]

Update

Hi, I am Domy. I've recently moved to this blog and I'm still catching up on following my mutuals, so if you see me on your notifications and get confused, just know this is a new account. In case you don't remember me with this current address, my previous urls were itsallofthecolors, undefined-love, embrace-and-love and adamnablelittledevil. I used to have Demi Lovato, Faouzia, Bailey Bass, Hailee Steinfeld, Delainey Hayles as icons as well.

You may also recognize me for posting about and being interested in: Demi Lovato, Faouzia, My Chemical Romance, Pedro Pascal, Interview With the Vampire, The Vampire Chronicles, Stranger Things, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire, Pose, Severance, The Handmaid's Tale, The Good Doctor, The Last of Us, The Mandalorian, Jane the Virgin, Ted Lasso, Smallville, Shadow and Bone, Grishaverse and Dickinson. Or my favorite characters and ships like Armand, Lestat de Lioncourt, Claudia, Louis de Pointe du Lac, Daniel Molloy, Louis x Lestat, Lestat x Armand, Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Sansa Stark, Tommen Baratheon, Podrick Payne, Jaime x Brienne, Will Byers, Will x Mike, Claire Browne, Claire x Shaun, Joel Miller, Din x Omera, Jane x Michael, Jamie Tartt, Jamie x Roy, Chloe Sullivan, Clark x Chloe, Malina, Alina Starkov, Mal Oretsev and Emily x Sue.

At this moment both my laptop and cellphone are broken and I don't have access to any tool to log in on Tumblr. I am also facing some problems in private life that I cannot talk about right now. I don't know when I will be able to fix or buy at least one new device. Right now I can only borrow someone's phones for a few minutes here and there. For that reason, I use my very short time on the internet to search for some news, briefly check tags, see notifications and send quick messages. I will definitely answer everybody properly when I return for good, but right now I can't give substantial replies to messages or have long conversations. So if you see me online and reblogging one or two posts, it doesn't mean I am ignoring you, it's just that I logged in on Tumblr very briefly and couldn't do much. And you guys know I'm famous for rambling and writing long texts, so I can't do that in just a couple minutes that somebody lends me their phone and am able to use the internet. But, again, I am NOT ignoring you and I WILL eventually answer everyone, with the proper and thoughtful answer you deserve, when I am finally fully back. I PROMISE!

I am NOT leaving. Whether it takes me one day, week, month or year, I WILL return. In order to avoid saying the same thing over and over, I will pin this post and only share more in case I have news. Right now, everything is still the same so I don't have anything else to say. I'll speak more when something changes. I am NOT saying goodbye, leaving, deactivating or deleting this blog, I swear. All I ask is that you don't assume I'm gone be patient with me, please! In case anything changes I will speak again, but this is my current situation. I WILL be back, promise! Thank you! 🩷

- Domy