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shining-m00nlight · 1 year

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41. “I love you and all, but you’re really stretching your luck right now.”

Catelyn Starks finds her husband in a pile of puppies. He now has to explain to her. (A very classic the Starks are getting diewolfs fic.)

Catelyn raised her eyebrow while looking at her husband, who was sitting on the living room floor with six puppies in his lap.

She wanted to say so many things at that moment but finally settled on telling her husband: "I love you and all, but you're really stretching your luck right now."

"Oh, come on. Cat. Look at them. They are so fluffy." Ned told her, taking one of the puppys and holding it next to his face and looking at her with eyes so big they rivalled the dog’s.

"No, no, no! I don't wanna look at them! I looked at them long enough to count them. There are six of them! Six!"

It's not like she hates dogs but she really couldn't handle the thought of having six dogs to take care of.

"Don't think of it like six dogs, love. I think you should first take our children into consideration. We have six of them as well. So it’s six dogs and six children. One dog for each child. That would mean, zero dogs for you."

Ned spoke as if he just figured out the solution to world hunger. She looked at her husband with suspicion.

"Did the kids coach you to say this? Did they actually convince you that they are responsible enough to take care of six dogs?"

"Well they did make some really compelling arguments. Having a dog teaches responsibility. And with each of them having their own dog, there will be no fighting about who is responsible for what because they will all have clearly defined responsibilities."

"Ned, I know you love telling our sons they are almost grown men while they are still wearing diapers to bed. But do you really believe our three year old, who regularly sleeps in bed with us because his “teddy” had a nightmare, who we dress, who we still cut food for, who we basically still do everything for, as we should, since you how he is three, can actually take care of another living thing by himself?

Hell do you even believe our fourteen year olds can take care of another living creature completely by themselves? Because I don't. Which means somebody has to pick up all the things they can't or won't do. And that will be me and I will end up taking care of six dogs."

After that Ned was quiet. Not having a good argument against his wife. But one of the puppies escaped his lap and stumbled towards Catelyn now.

Cat looked at the little dog with caution, he was completely black and was making small japs at her. But she was determined not to let herself get swayed just because a small pup looked at her.

"No! Do not come closer. I don't want you in my space?" she told the little black puppy.

Of course the small creature that by now had reached her feet didn't listen. The black dog was trying to jump up her leg. She tried very hard to ignore the little paws at her legs and the admittedly adorable whines coming from the floor.

In the end, despite her inner fighting, she was unsuccessful.

Catelyn made the mistake of looking down and into the puppy's eyes, those big, beautiful, innocent eyes. She couldn't help herself. She reached down to give the creature a quick pet on the head.

But the little monster immediately used her moment of weakness to cuddle himself into her hand. Ned was right he was really fluffy but she was still determined not to fold just because of a bit of soft fur.

“Ned, we really really can’t keep them,” she told her husband, trying to make him see reason.

“But Cat, look at him, look at how much he loves you already. And if we keep them, imagine getting six times of puppy love every day.”

“But also, six times walking, six times collecting poop, six times feeding and six times more cleaning because their fur will be all over everything! Ned, you need to see reason.”

“Ok, how about this, we make a deal with the kids. If they don’t take care of their dogs, as much as is reasonable for their age, they have to give the dogs back. And I promise you that all the responsibilities the kids are too young for will fall on me and you have to do nothing”

At Cat’s raised eyebrow Ned quickly added, “Basically nothing, maybe a few little things when I am not here. But I will give you a reward each time.

Catelyn had to smile a bit. "Are you gonna pay me 10$ an hour for walking the dogs like one would do for the neighbor kids?"

Ned also smiled at his wife. While they talked he had carefully placed the five remaining puppies from his lap into a bundled up blanket pile and then started walking toward his wife. When he reached her, he hugged her from behind with one hand around her hip, while the other reached for the black puppy himself.

"I know this will be a big adjustment and I promise I will be the person most responsible for all of it. But when Benjen brought them the kids were so happy. They even each picked one without fighting. This little one is Rickons by the way.

Benjen found them behond the wall, their mother died and now they don't have anyone. If Benjen can't find anyone to take them he will have to euthanize them or put them back behond the wall where they would die.

And there's basically no one but us to take them in. It is against the law to have them outside the North, you also need a special license to keep them as well as proof of massive available space for them. It is not something most people can provide. But we could since we have moved to Winterfell after dad died."

She knew he didn't mention his fathers recent death to get her to soften up, he wasn't manipulative after all but it still did. The passing of his father had hurt her husband a lot and now that she thought back on it she hadn't seen him as happy as he has been sitting in the pile of puppies in a while.

"You have a dog holding license like that? I didn't know that."

"Oh yes, it is still from my childhood. My dad had them from before we were born and we grew up with them. They died when I was a teenagers but me and my siblings still decided to get the license when we were adults."

Something about this revile made her brain itch but she couldn't put a finger on why. For now she decided to ignore it. Because while he didn't say it, Cat could hear in her husband's voice that the dogs obviously meant a lot to him and those little ones probably reminded him of the dogs he grew up with. Still snuggled into her husband and holding the little furball, her resolve broke.

"I guess if the kids and you really promise to care for the dogs and I will never be responsible for bathing any of them, we can try to keep them. Try! The emphasis is on try!

If in two weeks I'm sitting here with six dogs while you all are busy with something else I will personally call Benjen to pick them up and bring them back to where they came from!"

Her husband hugged her a bit tighter from behind and whispered

"You are the best mother and wife. I promise we will all be on our best behavior. Me, the kids and the dogs."

"You better keep that promise."

"I will and the kids will promise too."

Suddenly there was a storm of little people all yelling different versions of ,we will,"we'll take good care of them" and "we promise". Now she had her daughters at each of her sides hugging her, kissing her face, saying "thank you, thank you" all over again, her two younger sons trying to squeeze into her lap at the same time almost squishing the puppy, that still resided there and her two oldest trying to put their arms around the whole bundled up family.

"You are the best mom ever" exclaimed her smaller daughter right into her ear.

Cat turned to her and marvelled at the beautiful smile Anya gifted her. There was nothing more beautiful than her children's smiles but Arya's was always special to her.

Arya didn't often share true full smiles with her as they often clashed when Arya wouldn't like or listen to what her mother told her. But when she truly smiled, Cat was reminded so much of Ned that her heart would melt in an instant.

"Well, please remember that if this doesn't work out and the dogs have to go again" she said to remind them all that this was not a yes without conditions.

She still smiled at all of her children. She really did hope they would show enough responsibility to take care of the dogs. They seemed so happy and she wanted them to stay that way.

"Yes, if this doesn't work out and the puppies need to go, you have only yourself to blame. You can not be mad at your mother." Ned added sternly.

Cat was really grateful for her husband's words. She didn't really want to end up being the only bad guy if this went down south.

"But the puppies won't have to. We will be the best puppy caretakers ever and we train them to be the best behaved puppies ever." Robb chimed in. Jon was nodding his head in agreement.

Cat spent the next hours still on the living room floor together with her family being introduced to six little puppys. Cat was amused by how the puppies seemed to perfectly fit her children's personalities. The little black one that she now knew was Shaggydog, was running around and yapping at everyone if nobody gave him attention.

Arya's dog Nymeria was not far behind. Sansa's dog Lady could almost be described as polite, while Beans dog, who didn't have a name yet, was constantly trying to climb the furniture. The white wolf, Ghost, that belonged to Jon was quiet and listened very well for such a little puppy.

Robb's Greywind seemed as if he was trying to keep an eye on all of his siblings, barking at Shaggy when he tried to jump on the other puppies and at the unnamed dog when he tried to climb on a particularly high piece of furniture.

Catelyn had seldomly enjoyed herself so much in her life. She had all of her children around her, she was in her husband's arms and everybody was basically vibrating with happiness.

When she laid in her husband's arms in bed that night, she thought that she could handle six dogs if they would gift her family this much delight. She could exept having to clean up behind the little furmonsters if it gave her children the possibility of being woken up by their sweet little puppies licking their face, so they might appear less grumpy at the breakfast table.

And Ned was right. Winterfell was a perfect home for dogs with its wide spaces and the Godswoods attached to it. That thought sparked a memory at something Ned had said to her today that she hadn't truly understood but had put off for the moment.

"Ned?" she whispered.

"Yes, my Love?" he answered her in the same calm whisper.

"Why do these dogs require so many laws about where they are allowed to live? Which breed of dogs are forbidden outside the North?"

Ned didn't answer her. He kept quiet and stared up at the ceiling. Cat got a bit suspicious.

"Ned? Will you answer my question?"

Ned coughed: "Yes, well you see... Technically, they might not actually be dogs"

"What?"

"They are kind of direwolves." Ned confessed.

"NED! WHAT THE F---"

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dwellordream · 1 year

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For the prompt fill: Sansa and Arya, The Moon Reversed!

"I think we ought to just fight," says Arya.

Sansa, who has been staring at her tearfully, waiting for some sort of sensible response to what she thought was a very heartfelt apology, says, "What is wrong with you?"

"Not with swords," Arya says, quickly, as if that were up for debate.

"Arya!"

"We haven't had a proper fight since we were ten and eight," says Arya. "I think we're due for a pummeling." She is rolling up her sleeves.

"You want to hit me?" Sansa asks incredulously.

"A little." Arya looks at her, hard. "You don't want to hit me? Be honest."

"No, I am not going to hit you!" Sansa exclaims. "That's ridiculous! We're not children anymore! We are not going to settle things by beating each other!"

"Well," says Arya, "I'll give you to the count of three, and then I'm going to take a swing. No faces. Should we agree to avoid the face?"

"If you hit me in the face, Arya," Sansa hisses, "I am going to kill you." She flushes. "I mean-,"

"That's the spirit," Arya says, approvingly. "One."

"You're mad," says Sansa. "I always knew you were mad."

"You just threatened my life," Arya points out. "Two."

"That was- Arya, I obviously wasn't serious-,"

"You looked serious. Three!"

She lunges. Sansa picks up a pillow and smashes it into her head.

"We just said no face!" Arya shrieks. "You're an oathbreaker, Sansa! Always have been!"

Sansa is too busy deflecting blows to her belly and legs to argue that they only banned fists swinging at the face, not other implements.

Arya shoves her onto the floor. Sansa drags her down with her, shrieking. She's a head taller than her sister but Arya is compact with muscle and surprisingly wiggly.

Sansa has the advantage in reach but when Arya headbutts her in the stomach she feels all the wind leave her body.

Arya pauses. "Are you alright?"

Sansa grimaces and then pinches her sister in the neck, hard.

#arya stark #sansa stark #prompt fill

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fineosaur · 2 years

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"The skirt is supposed to be this short" - Gendrya plsss.

lavender kiss | m | gendrya

from this drabble challenge

After losing a bet, Gendry and Arya have to attend a Halloween party as a slutty doctor and slutty nurse. Only Gendry can't quite take his eyes off Arya once she reveals her outfit.

When it comes down to things, Gendry’s not usually quite on board or understanding of certain parties. He doesn’t understand why anyone would shotgun a beer can instead of drinking it like a normal person.

He doesn’t understand why anyone would smoke menthols & switches when regular tobacco is perfectly fine.

He particularly doesn’t understand why Halloween is such a big deal to university students. Yet there he is, allowing himself to be dressed up in a doctor’s outfit.

He fusses with the stethoscope around his neck and waits for her to get ready. At least she’s there with him to look just as ridiculous.

The Riverlands had just started to grow colder. Autumn was a solid season, none of the sweltering heat of summer and pesky bugs of spring, and none of the mornings with ice on his windshield like winter.

Autumn suited him well. This, not quite so much.

He lowers his eyes, taking in his reflection. The white coat he wears fits terribly, scrunching at his upper arms where the polyester tries to stretch too tightly. Inside he wears a shirt with a tie and brown slacks.

As stupid as he looks, he does not fit the criteria of what he was asked to.

It’s ‘slutty doctor’ and ‘slutty nurse’, remember to show some of that chest hair, Gen.

He sighs and gets himself a drink of water, knowing that he’ll thankfully have the numbing haze of alcohol later in the night.

Gendry checks his watch and waits on her. It’s a small party, just a few of their friends, all of which will likely get on his back for being late, though it’s always her fault if they arrived late.

After they lost their bet with Lommy and Hot Pie, Gendry had not taken it so seriously. Arya however was never a very good loser, she taunted the pair of them over the lost game, landing them where they were now.

He guesses there’s no true difference, if they had won, he would still have to wear some absurd outfit or the other.

Gendry’s head lifts up when he hears his bedroom door open. She walks into his living room with loud yet graceful heeled steps.

His mouth goes dry and he takes another sip of his water. Gods, there was no way.

“Gods, I fucking hate Lommy,” she curses at her reflection.

Sure he hates Lommy too, but looking at her right then and there, he feels his loathing trickle away ever so slightly.

He joins her in the living room, sure that his shock is blatant by the expression on his face.

“Well?”

Her tone is rough and displeased. He doesn’t take it personally at all.

He swallows tightly and watches her twirl. He must be hallucinating on some level. The tea from earlier was one of her brother’s weird concoctions, he’s sure of it.

“The skirt–”

“The skirt is supposed to be this short,” Arya interrupts him quickly enough. “Apparently women taller than 5’5 don’t exist.”

The frown on her face is exaggerated by her thick, dark brows. They make her glistening grey eyes look colder than they are.

She turns to check the skirt from the back in the mirror. It looks layered, making it appear puffy like the ball gowns he’s seen on tv. It’s tacky yet exquisite.

Arya finally meets his eyes and her frown dissipates. “Gods, you look constipated,” she mocks. Her heels click as she approaches him and he feels himself grow redder.

“Just feeling hot in the tie,” he lies.

“It’s supposed to be slutty doctor, remember,” he curses her for bringing it up. This close, she’s able to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. This close he can smell her and the floral scent she’s wearing. “See, now that’s better. If I have my whole arse out, you should be able to show some cleavage.” She jokes.

It’s impossible not to stare at her arse when she mentions it. Gendry scolds himself internally for being so vile to his best friend.

“Gendry!”

He realises she’s caught him and his eyes shoot up to hers. Arya’s completely forgotten her grievances and an amused expression crosses her face.

“Yeah?” Shame reddens his cheeks further and he rubs the back of his neck as she walks over to him.

She has a knowing grin on her face as she gets closer, making his chest grow tight.

“You’re checking me out,” Arya accuses him.

Gendry can’t help but smile and give a small laugh. “Arya, your arse is out, I can’t help it,” he defends himself.

“Is that how you speak about women?” She taunts him.

“I wouldn’t care to look at any other woman’s arse.”

It slips out stupidly but she hears it.

She’s closer than she was before. And even if she’s in platforms, she’s still a head shorter than he is.

They’ve never spoken about crossing the line in their years of friendship, despite the comments they get so often from friends and family. It would be catastrophic, he tells himself.

But it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it… almost every time he’s with her. And every time he’s not.

“Arya?” He asks as she gazes up at him with a smile.

Gendry hesitates. Neither of them has had anything to drink yet, this would be them acting with sober, rational minds.

How bad could it really be? He asks himself.

“Gods, you’re teasing,” Gendry tells her with a joking gasp. He makes up his mind and pulls her by her waist. “What are you waiting for, Arya?” He asks her with his lips only an inch away from hers.

He sees the excitement tint her eyes, growing darker than he’s ever seen.

Arya kisses him first. He’s more than ready when she does so. He groans on her lips and holds her tighter.

Gendry’s hand goes down to squeeze a handful. He doesn’t care if he’s moving fast. It’s perfect and smooth, even over the fishnets she wears.

She pulls away to kiss his neck and he drops his head back. His head swims with grief, lust-fuelled, delicious grief.

“Are we really doing this, Arya?”

He meets her eyes as he asks the question. If she says no, he would take his hands off her in a heartbeat. But the tug in his heart and the evidence straining in his slacks hope she doesn’t.

“Can we afford to be late?”

Gendry doesn’t even bother to check his watch. “Fuck if I care,” he answers swiftly at her assent. He takes her into his arms once again, this time lifting her off the wooden floors and depositing her onto his sofa.

He lets his eyes wander her body. He stills at her face, taking in the sweet smile on her lips. Her hair is in a tight ponytail at the crown of her head behind ridiculous costume details.

Gendry gets to his feet, staring down at her and getting rid of his coat. “As hot as you look in all this, I need it all off,” Gendry tells her as his fingers undo his buttons.

Arya bites her lip with a smile and gives him a nod. “Take them off me,” she demands instead.

He takes a deep breath in and throws his shirt to the side. He gives her a wide smile and joins her on the sofa once again, taking her in his arms and kissing her with no remorse.

#i want everyone to know that i shuffled my sex playlist to get this title #gendrya #arya x gendry #arya stark #gendry waters #modern au #halloween fic #asoiaf fanfiction #fineosaur #my writing #im still taking prompts and will continue writing the ones in my ask box during the week !! i promise i see them !!#drabble challenge

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kloethewriter · 9 months

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Does anyone have an Starkling (The Stark siblings) or Stark family prompts? Like I’m in the mood to write especially them but I’m just not inspired or have an idea what to write. Would really appreciate them!

#fanfiction #writing #ao3 #writers on tumblr #fanfic #archive of our own #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #starklings #robb stark #jon snow #arya stark #rickon stark #bran stark #sansa stark #house stark #writing prompt

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loveipromiseimnotinsane · 2 years

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"Sansa was an bratty, selfish, annoying bitch" Sansa was just a feminine 13 year old girl yall are just misogynistic

#the only reason so many men liked arya is because she activity rejects being a lady and traditional femininity #this wasnt prompted by anything im just rewatching s1 of GOT and it just reminded of all the shit sansa got #im like a decade late to the convo but here are my thoughts anyways #game of thrones #got #sansa stark #my post love

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x-aefx · 2 years

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This guy's glow up was more impressive then season 8.

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adoptable-fanfic-prompts · 1 year

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Game of Thrones Writing Prompt

All the Stark kids turn into direwolves (they still get their wolves later but also become wolves). It starts with Jon and Robb getting a fever when they are around 3-6 years old (get it at the same time). Turns out it’s a magical sickness because as soon as it passes, they can turn into direwolf pups. The same thing eventually happens to the other Stark kids.

I even had the thought of Theon potentially getting it at a later age due to him going to the Godswood of Winterfell and wishing he was a Stark over a Greyjoy (had no idea that what he thought was a private moment with himself was being observed by the Old Gods. His eyes also turn to Stark Grey. He has a harder time due to his older age, though).

The Stark children (plus Theon) are a little wilder and closer than canon. When Robert Baratheon comes down, it’s Rickon’s turn so they have to hide it.

Not sure of anything else with this. If anyone has any other ideas with this, let me know.

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maidmerrymint · 2 years

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Somebody Please write this?!!

Game of Thrones x Vikings

The fic would start at the end of Season 1 of GOT and Pre-Season 4B Vikings

When Ned discovers the truth behind Cersei, Jaime, and the children he decides to send then on a ship to Stannis in Dragonstone.

Unfortunately there ship is hit by a terrible storm and Arya and Sansa end up going overboard and somehow endup in Kattegat. Only to be discovered by Helga.

Sansa Stark x Ivar the Boneless

Arya Stark x ?

@bragisrunes what do you think?

#fanfiction #someone write it #sansa stark #ivar the boneless #floki the boat builder #arya stark #please write this #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #vikings fanfiction #vikings #writing prompt

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reginarubie · 2 years

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hi I'm the anon from before about being hesitant to send a prompt! I'm glad that to hear your almost done with night shift and that your taking steps to take care of yourself!

Here the prompt I wanted to send and again do it on your own pace!

Pairing: Jonsa

au: John wick

it pretty much follows canon John wick where Sansa dies and she gives him dogs lady and ghost, John gets attack and lady is killed while ghost survived so he goes full dark Jon like the movies. Eventually he realizes he lost his way when the ring that Sansa and him exchanged was taken and he was forced back into the life he left to be with sans so once the battle is over and he has his ring back he spends the rest trying to do good, be the man she loved. idk starts charities, restore and preserve history,etc.

idk really know, this was just an idea but I'd be happy with any John Wick au of them

The other prompt isn't like a ship thing though. Its more of a sibling dynamic

Pairing: Arya and Sansa

Au: Arya goes through her first heartbreak and the family was worried before figuring out that IT'S ARYA. She'll be fine. But Sans is not convince, she notices that Arya doesn't have that same wildness when they argue. Notice that she spends more time staring into space, etc. Arya was not ok.

That's all I really have, I just want some solo sisters dynamic between them.

I had one for Stranger things LuMax and Eddie criss but idk if your part of that fandom. Wow this is a lot, again take your time!

Ciao anon!, thank you again for your concern!

Since, as we spoke about, I am taking things at my own pace I decided to start with the Arya/Sansa sister prompt, but you will get also the John Wick AU (after I've had time to rewatch it, since I've seen it like twice, bits and pieces and I'd like to have a better grasp of some foggy details that had intrigued me and I'd like to put in the story as well). I'm not really a great fan of Stranger Things, but I adore my girl, Max (another red-head...hmm...my bf is a red-head...hmm...I'm starting to see a pattern here) so let me know what it was that you were hoping for, with LuMax as they are adorable!

So, let's hop onto this sister-time between our fav Stark girls! Fair warning since I love, adore and would die for Edric/Arya we shall see a tiny bit also of Edric Dayne in this story (sorry if, instead, you don't like that pairing) and since Gendry did kind of break Arya's heart in canon he is her previous boyfriend.

Prompt: Arya goes through her first heartbreak and the family was worried before figuring out that IT'S ARYA. She'll be fine. But Sans is not convince, she notices that Arya doesn't have that same wildness when they argue. Notice that she spends more time staring into space, etc. Arya was not ok.

Of course, since we're speaking of love between siblings the songs that inspired me were Brother by Kodaline and Hey Brother by Avicii (and from lines of these songs I've drawn the title). Both of them are pretty young here, I'm thinking on Sansa being seventeen going to eighteen and Arya being fifteen.

It's short, but I promise it's sweet.

Warm and safe [for you, there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do]

[As always I cannot stress enough that the pieces of art are NOT mine, I simply collect them on the net and use them! Credit to the artist, because the work is amazing and it fit with the idea of a young Arya and Sansa going through heartbreak]

Arya almost slips on the last step of the staircase, though that might be because Nymeria has been hanging around her feet, or her slipper might have caught and slipped, yet her sister looks... miles away, not present.

Since they had been kids Arya had been the agiler and swifter of the two of them, graceful in her own way, her sister had been like a cat, able to fall on her feet even from the house in the tree in the backyard. It's strange, off-putting to see her so easily tripping like a klutz when her sister had never been such.

But what scares Sansa the most is that Arya is almost never quiet, unless she's plotting your demise — in that case you better start running for your life [just saying] — she's always moving, always speaking...she's a tumultuous volcano of activity.

When they had been little her anger had been worse, spiked and provoked way too easily, and when she had been diagnosed with ADHD most of them had been surprised to learn how much of her behavior was a direct result not only of it, but of the way they had been going around to try and help or contain her.

Now she's so quiet that Sansa has sneaked in her room whilst she was showering to make sure she is taking her meds correctly and it's not abusing them or not using them or... Sansa doesn't know, alright? — she's not a doctor — but if it's something that has to do with the ADHD it might pass through her meds and if those are in the correct amount based on her therapy (and yes, Sansa has sneaked also in her mother's room and controlled the right dosage in her sister's folder, which maybe she shouldn't have done it without permission, but she's worried) she can safely argue that maybe it's something else.

Though she still doesn't know what might have rendered her usually active, energetic and easygoing sister closed off and quiet beyond any measure. That is until Bran comments on how Meera's classmate, Gendry is strangely absent from their home and inquires with Arya about his wellbeing and suddenly everything clicks in her mind. She exchanges a look with Bran and knows Bran has done it on purpose.

“I wouldn't know,” Arya sneers “we're not together anymore” her voice sounds like vitriol. Sansa wonders if it tastes as acid as it sounds. Somehow she feels like it might taste like heartbreak.

Sansa had found Gendry lovely in his own bullheaded way, he had proved time after time he could stand his ground with Arya. The two of them, despite the age-gap had met in the gym Arya usually frequented (the same gym she has been finding excuses to go to in the last couple of weeks) and had started boxing together. In the matter of a couple of years they had started to go out together and Arya had seemed happy.

That's how, in the middle of a saturday morning the entire Stark household discovers that Arya and her boyfriend Gendry have broken things off.

For the first few weeks everyone is overly indulgent with Arya, which makes her angry — which is still better than the apathy both Sansa and Bran had noticed — Jon, their cousin and Arya's favored relative, comes around more often even while he attends college at Castle Black and Robbs returns almost every weekend from Silverhill college; Bran shares more of his video-games with her and Rickon offers to train with her. Their father just has this sad look in his eyes like he understands and brings home her favorite ice-cream more often than not. Their mother, has stopped lamenting on Arya's purple dyed hair or Arya's scruffy-looking manner.

Until slowly things return back to normal.

Afterall, Rickon comments one day when Arya, strong, willful Arya flips them all off and declares she is going out for a run alone “It's Arya, figures she'd get over him in no time”

Still, Sansa can't help but worrying.

In fact, while Arya does seem to be on the mend, though her grades have not gotten better, and starts again to enjoy her own activities (and takes to box again); she's even started to hang out with her friends again — Hotpie [And no, Sansa is never getting over the fact that, that is his real name] and Lyra Mormont — and Sansa is happy because of it; there is still something that feels off to her.

She tries to talk it over with her mother, whose response is of “Arya is as stubborn as I was her age, she'll get over it, she only needs time”

Yet...contrary to popular opinion in Arya's inner circle of friends and their family, Sansa still doesn't feel at ease.

So, and perhaps she's overstepping, when Sansa gets called by the principal to help a new transfer student to adjust and notices the way the boy's blue-almost-purple eyes seem to search for her sister around the building after he first caught sight of her, she decides it's time she learns to delegate and introduces the two of them.

Edric is kind and soft-spoken and not as bull-headed as Gendry but not for that less firm, Sansa sees that every time Arya makes plain he is overstepping (even when he really isn't) he gives her space, but without being recalcitrant about it, tries to coax her out of her shell again, even when he fails it doesn't seem to deter him; plus he is very friendly and easily falls into a cherished friendship with Arya's circle of friends.

Still doesn't mean Arya appreciated her help.

“So,” Sansa begins one night as they are busy preparing for the night, Arya is wearing her silly minions pajamas and Sansa is skin-caring “how is Edric? He seems like such a darling”

Arya, it seems has been at the end of her patience about this particular matter, so she slams her toothbrush on the sink and turns to her “Stop it,” she demands of her “just, stop it. He's annoying and restless”

And for a glorious moment Sansa thinks it's almost like having her sister back, the one who would not back down from an argument if her life depended on it.

“I think he likes you,” Sansa sing-songs mostly to goad her, try to get her out of her walls. It doesn't work, Arya's face and eyes which would've sparked with ire before, suddenly close off and shut down.

Her sister deflates “I don't need—no, I don't want his pity and I don't want either your pity or your help” she says and her voice, instead of being dripping venom as it would have usually...

You're a liar!

... is instead resigned. It hurts in Sansa very marrow to see her sister so apathetic.

Arya washes her toothbrush and puts it in its place “Just leave it alone” she says, her voice uneven as if she's holding back tears and, upon closer inspection, Sansa does notice that her eyes are teary. Still, Arya turns her back to her and walks out, when Sansa has finished and leaves the shared bathroom, passing near Arya's slightly ajar door she sees her sister sat on the windowsill, looking out, spacing out. But it is not the kind of spacing out she does, from time to time, when she's considering hard something. This is... sadder, filled with unresolved feelings.

Sansa remembers the first time her heart broke. She had been fourteen, she had fancied herself in love with a childhood friend who had, in truth, been horrible and they'd gotten together, by the time her fourteenth birthday had come around Sansa, who should've been the one to be celebrated had discovered, instead, that her boyfriend had been cheating on her with one of her — at the time — dearest friend.

She doesn't remember much, she remembers crying, she remembers the slap and the way the blood had echoed in her ears after he had struck her, the way the pain in her cheek had been numbed by the one in her chest, only to increase her heartbreak. Honestly she did not know how she did it, but she had fished out her phone from her purse to find it dead — she had forgot to charge it — and had walked bare-foot because those hells were nightmarish on the hard concrete to the nearest public phone and she had somehow, with trembling hands composed the only number she could find on the worn out phone book. It had been the number of the bar Jon worked at part-time in Wintertown.

She still remembers the way her voice had shaken when they had answered “Jon..?” and the relief when the stranger had passed the call to Jon, she hadn't been able to speak, only sobbing but somehow Jon had recognized her. He had mounted on his bike and came to take her home. He and Robb had also beaten up Joff, but that was neither here not there, repaying the bruise on her cheek in kind and her father had sued Joffrey for it too. Yet, Sansa had been too spaced out that night to do anything but turn and turn again in her bed all night, her mother wasn't home because their grandfather had fallen and broken his leg and needed care and she had felt so alone, until Arya had come to her room at two in the night — grumbling apparently annoyed about her moving and sobbing keeping her awake from the other room — with warm milk and a lemon cake, had not forced her to eat, but left it on her bedside table before sneaking inside her bed and curling like a small dormouse around Sansa, embracing her. Lady and Nymeria had curled around each other and the feet of the bed and Sansa had finally been able to sleep a bit.

So, as willful and stubborn as her other siblings and refusing to let Arya suffer alone because ‘it's Arya’, but exactly because ‘she's Arya’, she quietly slips in the kitchen and prepares her sister favorite vanilla hot chocolate and retrieves one of the baked biscuits Arya loves to much. Her father intercepts her as she returns upstairs, takes notice of the tray in her hands and smiles at her, kisses her forehead and lets her go, even if they have this rule not to eat any sweet after a certain hour.

She doesn't knock on the door, she just strides inside. Arya doesn't even take notice, she keeps looking out with that sad, resigned look on her face. A misplaced look.

Sansa cannot make her better with a snap of her fingers. She would if she could. But she can hold together her until things don't get better.

“Hey,” she calls after she has left the tray on the bed walking to the windowsill. Arya looks up startled when Sansa puts her hand on her shoulder “I know you don't want my help,” she starts “but I know you are hurting”

Arya sniffs and hastens to dry her tears “I am not hurting” she lies.

Sansa sighs and sits before her on the windowsill “It's okay to be hurting,” she tells her “it doesn't make you weak” she assures her.

Arya snorts “If you are about to say that it makes you stronger I will personally throttle you” and it's the most Arya thing they've gotten out of her lately. Unprompted nonetheless.

“No, it doesn't, not always anyway” she says “honestly, you might feel broken for a long time” she tells her.

Arya nods and looks out of the window for a long time, Sansa just sits there beside her, and at one point Arya offers her, her hand to hold and Sansa does. Firmly. Softly.

Arya sobs, instead, are not soft at all. But Sansa doesn't care as long as her sister, finally, feels safe enough to get all that hurt off her chest.

“It will get better,” Sansa promises “not today, not tomorrow. But one day”

“And until then?” Arya asks “fake it until you make it?” Sansa smiles at that, it had been a sort of mantra for her, after her breakup with Joffrey.

“How do you know it'll get better?,” Arya asks “did it get better for you?”

Sansa caresses her cheek “Of course it did, and of course it will for you too,” she replies “and I know because I am the smartest Stark in the shack” she says with a nudge to her sister nose with her own.

It's not true, not even at all. Without Bran's prompting none of them would have learned about the breakup for who knows how long, and Robb is a chess-genius. Still, it's a silly line, but it makes Arya gurgle a snort between her sobs.

“You are,” she says seriously after she has stopped sobbing and laughing together “you really are”

Sansa smiles softly at her “And you are the strongest person I know,” she says “you will get better, and you can do it alone too, but the point is... you don't have to” she tells her “I'm here. We all are”

And that's when the dam breaks, and Arya launches herself half in her lap curling around her and sobbing even harder than before. Sansa simply embraces her, cards a hand through her hair and murmurs encouragements and as much as comforting words as she can muster through the lump in her throat.

And when her sobs are subsided a bit, Sansa tugs at a lock of hair “And this color is the coolest” she says “Gendry has lost his winning at the lottery, but that's okay, because the win was yours alone to begin with and it's your right to share with whom you want and as you have to deserve their lottery they have to deserve yours”

So, four months after that, when Arya faceplates into the duvet of her bed mumbling incoherently “So, turns out Edric does like me” and Sansa rolls her eyes...

“You don't say?”

... and her sister sasses her right back her eyes sparkling, Sansa knows. Maybe she's not there yet, but she's on her way to get better.

And Arya will never know that Sansa has invited Gendry out for a coffee and given him a piece of her mind, chewed him whole and spat him out because he broke her little sister's heart (even though when someone falls out of love they can do little to avoid it), nor that she made sure that he is aware he has lost the coolest, cuddliest little menace he could ever hope to stand beside to.

And if she's had Jon and Bran — wheelchair and all — flanking her sides to intimidate him a bit, well that's her secret, no?

And, if when Arya turns nineteen and Gendry comes knocking at their door, and Arya flips him and his excuses off to then snuggle into Edric's — who had been playing video games with Bran and has put them on hold — embrace even though she has not admitted yet to her feelings properly; Sansa gives Gendry a mock ballet curtsy with a soft spoken but not for that less acrid ‘Told you so’, well that's just how things go, sometimes.

Fin

You can read it as well here, on ao3 (x)! Thank you again for the prompts, I'll get on with the others as well :D Hope everything is fine with you and that you enjoyed it!

As always sending all my love ~G.

#anon asks #ask the hag #prompts #arya stark and sansa stark prompt #the hag's prompts

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claymoresword · 5 months

Text

Where's My Love

Cersei Lannister x Stark Fem!Reader 🐺

Prompt: I was wondering if you could write a Cersei x Stark!fem!reader where she's Ned's youngest sister and Cersei's ex-secret lover. Reader is a rebel like Arya and never married but she's very protective of her nieces/nephews. She and Cersei had a bad breakup and are finally reuniting during the events of the first GOT episode when the king's court goes to Winterfell. You could write reader backing up Arya again Joffrey and Cersei seething 😂😂😂 you can include g!p and smut if you want.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Pairing: Cersei x Stark Reader

Warnings: g!p reader, smut, power play, depictions of physical abuse, cheating , very toxic , references to alcoholism, breeding kink if you squint, emotional manipulation, did i already say this was toxic ?

Note: thank you so much 🐑 for the prompt! i actually had a lot of fun writing this one. also important to note this is my first time actually publishing something y'all have requested me to write so hopefully i got this right.. i know i tweaked and added a couple things but i hope you don't mind! and if you hate this i'm sorry lmao i tried <33

(smut after asterisks)

Bouts of laughter erupt from your nephews as Bran once again misses his mark, the arrow flies way over the target.

You glare at the older boys, in response Robb places a hand over his mouth, Jon instead chooses to avoid your gaze entirely focusing his stare at the ground beneath.

All dirt and sleet on the base of your boot, the ground squelched with every step you took.

“Try again, Bran. Take a deep breath, aim properly.” You order placing a lingering hand on his shoulder.

The young boy nods obediently as you step back once more, he raises his bow arm.

He aims, soon releasing the string, and once again, he misses. The arrow pierces the edge of a barrel on the far left, leagues away from his actual target.

Once again the boys burst into fits of laughter, this time is it not you who reprimands them.

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” You follow the sound of your brother's voice, he is standing on the balcony above, Catelyn by his side.

“Keep trying, Bran.” Jon decides to cease his teasing, he encourages his half-brother.

A sudden gust of wind tickles your face, the cold breeze permeates the air, bleeding through the thin fabric of your doublet. You immediately regret not putting on more layers this morning. You have lost track of the days, but there is no doubt that winter is coming.

“Robb, make certain your brother continues practicing. I am going back inside, but remember– your father is watching.” You warn your eldest nephew, as stern as you can manage.

Shaggy streaks of red hair fall over his eyes as he nods.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you start up the stairs, but your plan to slip back into your chambers unnoticed fails.

“Y/n.” Cat appears next to you.

“Are you alright?” The Lady of Winterfell asks, and you force a sweet smile, one to disarm and hopefully quell her worries.

Catelyn didn't exactly warm to you at first, and neither did you with her, but over time you both grew to truly care for one another. She was like an older sister to you, the void left by your late sister Lyanna did not seem so large with her around.

“I'm fine, I just needed to fetch something from my bedchambers, that's all.” You lie. However, the older woman somehow always manages to see right through you.

She gazes upon you skeptically only to eventually release your arm. She takes a step back, allowing you to take your leave without further interrogation.

In truth, you were far from alright.

Despite yourself, you have been on edge since finding out that the King is on his way to Winterfell with his Lady wife and all of their children.

This visit is a sudden one. Upon the death of Jon Arryn you had expected things to be different, knowing how much the former Hand meant to your brother– but you never anticipated a visit from the King himself.

You hadn't seen Robert in nine years, and his wife for longer than that.

It is not by accident.

If it was up to you, things would be different. You would still be in King's Landing today, perhaps serving as Knight– or as Cersei had once intended, a personal guard for the Queen.

You were once certain that you would spend the rest of your days by Cersei's side, no matter the circumstances, but you merely held the high hopefulness of a young girl.

Since then have been forced to accept that life is nothing like the tales and songs you were fed as a child. The Gods are not always merciful, things rarely ever go to plan and love most certainly does not conquer all.

Life got in the way of your love, and pride did the rest.

You have not spoken to Cersei Lannister in a decade, yet your entire being continued to ache with every day that you have spent apart. Time does not heal the type of hurt that only yields to resentment.

When the King and Queen arrive for their visit on the morrow, you intend to avoid her Grace at all costs, for her sake and your own. Above all, you will have no choice but to grit your teeth and endure what you must.

You haven't seen Cersei in years, but you were bound to slaughter each other given the chance.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Come in!” You beckon whoever was on the other side of the door as you fastened the clasps on your doublet.

Ned ceases his knocking, pushing the door open, he looks upon you in a way he knew you hated, but your brother can hardly help it.

He worries about you. When you returned home all those years ago, you were inconsolable.

You are a Stark, not made for the South. Your brother tried in jest, but he knew it wasn't the weather, or even court politics that despaired you.

It was Cersei, it had always been Cersei.

"The King was seen riding up; he should be arriving any moment.” Ned states.

“Right, I'm almost done here.” You quip, but the man takes it upon himself to assist you with your sheepskin cloak, draping it over your shoulders.

He keeps his hands on you, his brows furrowed with evident worry, and for some reason you can't help but find it all a bit silly, you chuckle lightly. “I will be fine, Ned.”

Your brother appears less than convinced, you shove him playfully. “You worry about me too much, brother, it’s beginning to age you.”

Ned scoffs. “Aye, try being in my position for a day and you'll understand why I worry so much… but it is time that's aging me, little sister.” Ned quips in response and this makes you pause.

You notice the streaks of white, scattered across his dark locks. As the morning sun peeks through the window, catching his face, you observe more of those streaks in his beard.

Where has time gone?

Ned steps closer, it seems that he has mistaken your silence for something else. Your brother plants a quick kiss on the crown of your head as a result.

In times like this you can't help but feel like a girl of thirteen again, looking to her older brother for protection.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You watched as the Kingsguard rode through the walls of Winterfell, Lannister banners in hand. It unsettles you more than you thought it would. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, turning to Sansa, her younger sister still nowhere in sight.

“Sansa, where is your sister?” You question and the girl only shrugs dismissively, but you aren't left wondering for long as Arya can be seen pushing through the crowd, quickly settling next to you.

The young girl was wearing an iron helm you had never seen before, her once pristine dress now ornamented with specks of dirt and grime. You shake your head disapprovingly, an effort to suppress your amusement.

Sansa scoffs at the sight of her younger sister, while you snatch the helm off Arya's head, she looks up at you with a scowl.

“Where did you even get this?” You ask, your tone manages to match the look on her face.

Arya gives you no response, and you aren't allowed the opportunity to press her further as you feel a nudge against your arm. Ned forces you to look ahead as the King can be seen dismounting his horse.

Ned kneels, and you and everyone else follows suit.

After a beat, the King's command all of you to rise, and soon you spot the carriage halting a few feet behind him.

You involuntarily held your breath as the door opens. The Queen emerges, she keeps her gaze ahead as she climbs down the steps.

Cersei looks the picture of poise and grace. She seems older, and somehow even more beautiful than you remembered. It knocked the wind right out of you, you had to look away.

Your eyes are no longer on the Queen, but your chest aches all the same.

“Cat!” Your attention is pulled to the display before you as the King addresses your sister in law, pulling her in for an embrace that she doesn't appear to be prepared for.

“Nine years. why haven't I seen you, where the hell have you been?” Robert addresses your brother once more.

“Guarding the North, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned replies, practiced and noble as he always was.

Robert then turns to you, a scowl upon his face, one that stuns you slightly. Your mind turns to Cersei, you consider what she might have shared with her Lord husband in your absence.

She must have told him the real reason you left King's Landing, no doubt the King will want you punished for repeatedly bedding his wife all those years ago. but then the King's frown turns, and your mind ceases its torment.

Robert lunges only to pull you in for an embrace, a gesture that startles you, your body remains tense until he releases you from his hold.

“I expected better from you, Y/n.” The King narrows his gaze in a puckish manner.

“Unlike your damned brother here I thought you enjoyed the Keep. I was sure you wanted to serve in my Kingsguard.” He adds, and you force a grin, gallant yet strained.

“I admit that was a different time, Your Grace. These days, my passions lie elsewhere.” You reply, and you can hardly prevent the way your gaze flits towards the Queen for a moment.

Cersei has been stood beside her husband, staring at you relentlessly for the entire duration of this interaction. If the Queen has remained the same person she was all those years ago, then you know for certain this was her attempt to intimidate– but you were not so keen on letting her have the upper hand.

You drill your expression, unfazed.

The King snorts derisively at your answer, but says nothing more.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You had spent most of the afternoon, drowning in your cups. The knowledge that Cersei was only a few doors away was aggravating, everything you thought to have successfully repressed has now resurfaced.

Every inch of you calls out to Cersei, your very soul yearns for her. You craved the unbearable pain, and blinding pleasure that came with being around her.

You have laid awake many nights picturing the ways you would confront her. The things you would say to her.

You fantasized about the possibility of finally being rid of all of your pain. To hurt her the same way she hurt you. Your heart, dense and cold, obstructed by all things Cersei. Within you, you carried everything you despised about the other woman– and all the things you adored.

The Queen was a mistake you couldn't erase, and simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to you. You hate her, but you cannot stand to be apart from her.

The sound of commotion snatches you out of your thoughts. The voices that permeate sound vaguely familiar to you, but you are only able to place them once you take a glance out your window.

You spot Arya and Bran in the courtyard. Prince Joffrey standing over them, your face falls as you spot his steel unsheathed from his scabbard and in his hand.

Without another moment's thought you rushed downstairs towards the training yard, prepared to pacify the affair, however dire it may be, but it seems Arya has taken the situation into her own hands.

Bran is gone, but the Prince is now on the ground. It seems that Arya has managed to disarm the older boy, his steel thrown to the side in the dirt.

Now she is threatening Joffrey with a wooden practice sword, her direwolf beside her, growling with intent at the Prince.

“Arya enough!” You intercept the blow, forcefully dragging your niece away from the boy.

“What the seven hells do you think you're doing?” You bark, and Arya drops the sword, her chest still heaving.

A young girl seething with unbridled fury was such an uncommon sight that it makes you grimace.

“He was trying to hurt Bran! I had to protect him.” Arya gestures to the Prince, the boy still whimpering in pain.

“Damn you and that stupid dog! I am telling my mother! I will report you to the king!” Joffrey hurls his threats, and Arya makes the juvenile decision to respond.

“Nymeria's a direwolf, not a dog!” She shouts and you sigh, placing a hand over your niece's mouth to silence her, an action Arya fights but your grip on her doesn't relent.

“My Prince, I am sure my niece meant no harm–” You try but the boy interjects.

“No harm?” The Prince hisses. “She nearly sliced my arm off!” Once again he whimpers like a pup that had just been trampled.

You take a step forward to examine the cut on Joffrey's arm, and it was only that– a minor cut, one that will heal without leaving as much as a scar.

Large footsteps approach, the Prince's sworn guard comes rushing to the scene, Sandor Clegane scowls at you before assisting the boy to his feet effortlessly with one hand.

“Some protector you are, dog. I almost died!” Joffrey then redirects his frustrations towards his guard.

He continues muttering insults as he retrieves his sword from the dirt, strutting out of the training yard.

Nymeria doesn't cease her growling until the boy was entirely out of sight, it was also only then you remove your hand from Arya's mouth.

“Have you completely lost your wits?” You gape, looking down at your niece disapprovingly, before kneeling to be at eye level with her.

“He was–” Arya starts, but you interrupt.“–I don't care what he did, Arya. You never attack a Prince.” You state firmly.

“You do something like this again and I will make sure you never get the chance to wield a weapon again, do you understand?” You assert, and your tone is harsh enough to make Arya wince.

She doesn't reply with words, she continues looking down at her feet as she nods.

“Let's go and get you cleaned up.” You state, you try to pull her by the arm but Arya doesn't budge.

“I was trying to be brave, like you.” She mutters under her breath, and you turn to look at the young girl once more.

“What?” You ask.

“Don't be upset with me, please, please. I'm sorry.” Then Arya states frantically, her voice small and frail– it shatters you.

“Oh, Arya– my sweet girl.” You say, kneeling once again. “I'm not upset, I was worried.” You pull her in for an embrace, your niece clutches you tightly in return.

After a prolonged moment, you cease the hug, wiping away some of the dirt from her face with the pads of your thumbs.

Then you took a quick scan of your surroundings, to ensure that you were alone before speaking again.

“Our Prince is a bit of a cunt.” You finally quip, earning a chuckle from Arya.

“He is.” Your niece beams at you, in turn this makes you fill with relief.

“I am proud of you for disarming him. but next time, leave it at that. Do you understand the consequences that come with attacking a King's heir?” You ask, and you watch as a realization graces the young girl, she averts her gaze, this time with guilt.

“Never again, do you hear me?”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You were exhausted from the events of the day, and yet it was not close to over.

You decide to retire to your chambers, aiming for at least a few hours rest before the King's welcome feast later this evening.

Resting your hand on the pommel of your sword, you take large steps through the gallery. You crave the horn of ale waiting for you on your nightstand, the comfort of your warm bed.

You turn the corner, a figure appears before you and you swerve out of the way quickly enough to avoid whoever it was that decided to walk toward you in this exact moment from the opposite direction.

As you gather yourself to take a proper look at the woman who you nearly bumped into, your blood runs cold.

“Your Grace, forgive me.” You state curtly, inclining your head at Cersei.

Your hand remains resting on the hilt of your sword as you attempt to slip past her, but before you can successfully walk away, she has a hold of your arm, dragging you backwards to where you stood.

You yank your arm out of her hold, a scowl covers your features, but Cersei ignores your visible discontent as she speaks.

“That niece of yours tried to murder my son.” The Queen accuses.

“What?” You can't help the half-laugh that slips out of you. Cersei takes offense to this, her expression hardens.

“Joff will bear those scars for the rest of his life.” She is not backing down, and you can't pretend that you possessed the will to deal with her theatrics.

You only roll your eyes, finally slipping past her and into your chambers.

You step inside your room, but before you can close the door Cersei intercepts, forcefully pushing it open to let herself in.

She slams it closed behind herself.

“You dare walk away from your Queen?” She bellows.

This time you groan, collapsing onto your bed.

You ignore her statement, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. “Oh, Cersei, it is a cut, it'll heal!”

A prolonged silence from the Queen, she only speaks again once you sit up in your bed.

“You've not changed a bit.” She remarks, treacherous emerald gaze meeting your pale greys.

“Neither have you.” You retaliate boldly.

More silence until Cersei is first to look away, clasping her hands infront of herself she assumes an impassive stance.

“I will have that girl punished.” The Queen threatens, her tone sounds spiteful. but you don't hide your incredulity.

“For what?” You ask, and Cersei's jaw clenches even tighter, you wonder if she might lunge at you.

“She attacked my son. the King's heir.” Cersei retorts, and you scoff.

“Is that what Robert’s teaching his sons? How to lose to a little girl?” You taunt, not backing down.

You knew Arya should receive consequences for her actions by right, but giving Cersei that satisfaction is the absolute last thing you plan to do.

“Or is it not the King's doing at all?” You ask again as Cersei fails to respond. You rise from the bed, stepping closer to the Queen.

“Is it Jaime's fault?” You tilt your head inquisitively, mockingly.

You are close enough to smell the lavender oil on Cersei's skin. Her eyes flit to your lips for a fleeting moment, and yours do the same to hers.

Then a madness overcomes you, prompting your next choice of words.

“I expect it is him you've been opening your legs for these days–” You utter, but you are swiftly silenced when Cersei's palm makes contact with your cheek.

She slaps you across the face, your head turns slightly from the force of it. Your face is now throbbing, raw and red with traces of Cersei's wrath.

She goes to strike you again, and this time it is intercepted by your firm grip on her wrist.

A fury reignites within you as Cersei tries to fight out of your hold, entirely allowing your emotions to guide your actions, your hand finds her throat. Before your rational mind can mitigate it, you have your fingers firmly wrapped around her neck. The back of her head slams against the wooden door as you forcibly pinned her upon it.

The Queen is clawing at your hand, struggling to take a breath as you restricted her airway. A real fear flashes across Cersei's face, and a part of you wants to watch her fall limp within your grasp, to quiet her once and for all, to destroy the cause of your agony. but you don't– instead you take a step back, releasing her.

Cersei gasps as air sharply re enters her lungs, roughly wiping away the tears that have made it down her cheeks.

The Queen attempts to regain her resolve the best she can, and the look she gives you is not one of shock, instead it is pure disdain, and you look at her the same. Cersei doesn't speak, she merely shoves you harshly with both hands against your chest, as you stumbled back, she turns to open the door.

You collapse on your bed once more as Cersei dissapears into the hallway, the door shutting behind her.

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. It seemed the Queen will never fail to elicit the worst from you– to make you act like an utter lunatic.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The welcome feast has been dragging on now for what felt like an eternity.

The King was no longer seated as his high table, instead he was in the center of the hall, shamelessly flirting with some of the servants.

You roll your eyes, reaching for the flagon of ale infront of you, as you attempted to lift it, it doesn't budge. You fleetingly wonder if the liquor had caused you to lose all strength in your arm, only to realize your brother was holding the jug firmly on the table so it wouldn't move.

You squint at Ned, and he glares at you in return.

“Enough. You'll drink yourself into an early grave if you keep this up.” Your brother warns and it makes you snigger.

“That is the plan, brother.” You slur slightly, but Ned makes the deliberate effort to ignore you.

You slump backwards in your chair, when you've realized you lost this argument, as you often did when it came to the lord of Winterfell.

You eyes fall upon King Robert once more, he is still in the middle of the room, surrounded by maidens and even more whores.

This time he is no longer flirting with them, he is in a full lip lock with one of the women. He does this in the presence of the Queen, dishonouring her for all to see.

You grimace at the sight, an unwanted rage overcomes you. You can hardly believe this lecherous drunk was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Married to the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms, the only woman you have ever wanted.

You can't bear to look at Cersei's reaction to this, in fact you can hardly remain at this feast for a moment longer. You abruptly rise from your seat, Ned looks up at you, puzzled.

“May I please be excused?” You asked formally for the rest of the table to hear and your brother hesitates before nodding curtly in response.

As you walked back to your chambers you can't help but invision what your life would have been like if your brother had taken the Iron throne instead of Robert Baratheon. If you had remained in King's Landing– if you had wedded Cersei instead.

Perhaps in a different life.

You and Cersei would be married, and you'd rule together. In another reality Cersei would be your Queen and not Robert's. She would bear your children, your heirs. You would grow old together and live out your days by each other's side. In a different life, you would have remained faithful to Cersei, you would have given her everything she desired and in return, Cersei would offer you her heart.

You would have been happy.

In another life.

By the time you reached your room, the tears had stopped flowing, but the collar of your shirt remained drenched.

As you shut your door, you unclapsed your doublet, lifting it above your head, tossing it aimlessly across the room.

Now only in your tunic and breeches, you feel the urge to weep some more, but you refuse to allow your tears to fall this time.

You take a seat on the settee, head in your hands. The effects of the ale already wearing off, a headache rapidly setting in, you realized that you needed another drink.

You get up to fetch the flagon from the small table but as your door flings wide open, nearly hitting you in the process, you freeze where you stand.

A familiar golden haired beauty emerges through the doorway, and you allow yourself a deep breath. Clutching your chest slightly to calm yourself.

“Your Grace, the hour is late.” You state dismissively, starting across the room to fetch your goblet.

“If you have come to order my execution for my behaviour this afternoon, best get it over with.” You quip, the liquor in your system doing all of the talking for you.

You hear the door shut, without looking back you assume Cersei had taken her leave but you are perplexed when you turn to see her still standing by the door, watching you set down your goblet.

You walk across the room once more to take a seat on the settee, you remove your boots, setting them aside.

Cersei has remained silent for long enough that you nearly forgotten her presence entirely. Her next ask startles you.

“Look at me.” Her commanding tone leaves no room to argue, you glance at her.

Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed. It is clear to you that she has been crying as well.

You rise from your seat abruptly, approaching her. “Are you alright?” You ask, and again the Queen says nothing.

She merely stares at you, hopefulness at your concern and despair at the fact that you needed to ask.

She lunges forward, before you can fully comprehend it, her lips crash against your own, she kisses you deeply, pure anguish and want. It snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you have no desire to pull away.

Your tongue makes contact with her own and Cersei moans, pulling you impossibly closer by the nape of your neck.

Your body pressed up against hers as she leans against the wall. You were now both panting into the kiss, all aggression and desire.

You had not been with Cersei like this in a decade, and yet there was a complete lack of uncertainty. It felt right, you were certain that you are meant to be with her like this, until the end of your days.

However, there still exists voice deep within you, whether it is pride or reason, you cannot say for certain. but it urges you to pull away, so you do.

The Queen chases your lips eagerly, but you pull back even further. “Cersei, stop. What is this, what are you doing?” You ask, every moment you spent without your lips on hers felt like pure agony.

“I just need you– please–” Cersei replies with a desperation you have never heard before, and this was enough to break you.

Any semblance of dignity vanishes into the very depths of yourself, all that's left is your deep and tortuous want for Cersei.

You kiss her again, rough and urgent, you are panting and groaning into each other's mouths. Cersei's hands immediately move to the hem of your breeches, she unlaces them in record time, slipping her hand inside.

You nearly lose it all when she wraps her fingers around the base of your cock, stroking it with such dexterity you fear your knees may give out.

“Gods–” You grunt, bucking your hips embarrassingly into her touch.

You find the strength to remove her hand from your breeches. Soon enough you slip them off, your slacks pooling around your ankles before you kicked them to the side.

You swiftly remove your own tunic as Cersei's trembling hands struggle to undo the laces of her dress.

Your patience wearing thin, you flip her around, indecently ripping the fabric open with one swift tug.

“Y/n–” Cersei scolds in response to your eagerness, glancing back at you with dissaproval, but her dress easily slips off her shoulders after that, her smallclothes follow suit.

The Queen is still facing away from you as you part her hair away from her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses against her hot flesh, as you reached a certain familiar spot, your teeth grazed the skin, before biting down on it briefly.

This earns a louder noise from Cersei, she is still trembling as she turns back around to face you, grabbing you firmly to pull you in for another sloppy kiss.

Lips still interlocked, the Queen walks you backwards onto the bed, Cersei doesn't waste another moment, straddling you as soon as you settled your rear on the edge of the bedding.

Your cock now stiff as a rod, poking at Cersei's entrance. The other woman begins moving her hips as you kissed, rubbing her cunt on the length of your shaft, coating it with her slick.

Your breath quickens, the sensation was maddening, you needed to be inside her now.

“Gods, I missed you.” You let it slip as your lips parted for a moment, but Cersei doesn't respond.

The Queen's grip on the nape of your neck moves to your hair as she grasps a handful of it, tugging your head back slightly. Her other hand travels south, she grips the base of your cock once more, this time lining it up to her entrance.

She begins lowering herself onto your length, Cersei moves quickly, with every inch that enters her, she lets out a gasp at the sensation. Soon you are sheathed inside of her to the hilt, and Cersei throws her head back, she releases an unrestrained moan, her hands now firmly on your shoulders.

She attemps to push you back against the bed, but you refuse to budge. Cersei relents, kissing you again as she moves her hips up and down the length of your cock. With every moan from Cersei you retaliate with a groan.

The feeling of her walls fluttering against your girth made you dizzy. The Queen felt so unbelievably good wrapped around your cock, you had forgotten just how intoxicating it was.

Now that you were experiencing it again, you never wanted it to end.

Vulgar noises of your coupling filled the room as Cersei moved herself desperately against your lap, your cock hitting just the right spots within her.

The Queen can feel her release already approaching, entirely overwhelmed by this she falls limp against you, but you manage to support her weight with minimal effort. Her hips still moving at a steady pace until it finally hits her, her orgasm washes over her like a wave.

Cersei cries out in pleasure, partially muffled against your neck, she holds onto you for dear life as her peak overcomes all her other senses, relentless and unforgiving. You feel her cunt clenching painfully around your cock, her short shallow breaths against your neck, she is trembling helplessly, and you never want to let her go.

“Seven hells.” The Queen breathes out, finally lifting her head to look at you.

Cersei's eyes were nearly glazed over, her chest heaving violently, but you were far from done with her.

You capture her lips with your own again, earning a content moan. You remained sheathed inside of her as you flipped your positions, now Cersei laid on the bed, with you on top of her. The other woman's gasp in surprise is muffled by your own mouth against hers.

Once again she moans into your mouth as you began your thrusts, deep and slow, you aim to feel every inch of her. Cersei wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you in even deeper.

The Queen gasps as your mouth found the swell of her breasts, your tongue leaving a trail of saliva as you expertly moved from one nipple to the other.

Your thrusts grow harsh and inconsistent as you felt your own climax building. Cersei's back arches, a deafening moan rips out of her.

You roughly placed your hand against her stomach, pinning her down against the bed as you continued to rut into her. Cersei was mewling and panting like a whore now as you used her for your own pleasure, heightening her own in the process.

The Queen finds just enough strength to pull you closer, her lips now against your ear.

“Tell me you love me.” Cersei pleads, and this takes you entirely by surprise, you slow your movements but you don't stop.

“What?” You ask, shaky, breathless.

“Just say it.” The Queen repeats amidst another moan, she clenches around your cock and the sound that emits from you then is guttural, primal.

You oblige without asking further questions.

“I love you, Cersei” You speak, from the heart, damning the consequences.

With that, Cersei reaches her peak again, her nails digging into the flesh of your back as she comes. The feeling of her perfect cunt milking your cock, accompanied by her writhing body underneath you was enough to push you over the edge.

As you attempt to pull out, Cersei kept her legs firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You are not given the opportunity to question it as it was already too late, you moaned as you released your load deep inside her, painting her womb with your seed.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Nearly a candlemark has passed since your coupling and neither you or Cersei have said more than a few words.

Simply embracing each other under the sheets, she rests her head against your shoulder, tracing circles absentmindedly with her finger against your abdomen.

This position was achingly familiar, almost as if no time had passed.

Cersei soon moves her hand further up, she traces her fingers across your bottom lip before running her thumb down the bridge of your nose. The sensation earns a chuckle out of you, you finally had to reach up to remove her hand, guiding it away from your face.

Cersei's stare betrays an intensity that makes your heart constrict painfully in your chest.

Still unspeaking, it was your turn to explore her body, but you don't get very far, your fingertips trace the faint bruising on her neck, the marks left by your own cruelty.

The Queen then shuts her eyes, she doesn't allow herself to look upon your guilt any longer. Wrapping her arm across your torso, nuzzling her face against your shoulder.

“I'm not letting you go– never again.” Cersei mutters, and the smile that tugs on your lips is one of relief and acceptance.

You don't supress the urge to plant a lingering kiss on her temple, one the Queen allows herself to melt into.

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