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Robb Stark has been carrying much responsability from a young age. Ever since his father died, he has been taking care of all his family’s necessities. Is thinking of his duty that his put aside the last trace of his youth and decides to marry. However, remembering the state of his mother after the death of Ned Stark, he’s determined to settle in a loveless match: a wedding with an agreable woman, but not one he desires passionately, will make his obligations much easier to execute. That is, until Jeyne Westerling enters the scene. Neither of them would think she’d be a problem to his plan; she’s not extraordinarily beautiful or has the most docile personality, her house name doesn’t compare to his, nor does her fortunes. And yet, Robb catches himself more and more attracted to her person and by the sparkles that come from all their—bickering—encounters.
They were either going to live happily ever after, or kill each other. That’s what everyone said. From their very first date
—
well, if you could call hooking up in a bathroom stall after one of her red carpets a date. Even their parents were never sure about their relationship, and his father and hers had been as close as brothers growing up.
They hooked up and broke up and got back together and started all over again more times than he can count. Half the time, Robert can’t even remember if she’s pissed at him or if he’s sworn her off again, but it doesn’t matter, because they can’t keep apart. Sure, they make each other miserable when they’re together, but they torture each other when they’re apart. And it’s better than being alone.
It’s not how he pictured it, his life, his future. But the life he’d imagined? That door was long since closed, he’d fucked that up too badly, she made it clear she never wanted to see him again. Cersei, though, no matter what he did, he never seemed to fuck up so bad as to drive Cersei away, and that’s almost the same thing as love, right?
Hello! I love your art so much! It is so beautiful and I love your interpretation of all the characters. 💕💕 If you take requests, can you please draw young jaime and catelyn at riverrun? they are my favorite crackship
we weep belladonna (Sansa/Myrcella Femslash February fic)
Summary: King Joffrey Baratheon survives his wedding, and Sansa Stark remains a bird in a cage. Some years afterward, Princess Myrcella Martell returns from Dorne, and comes bearing a gift that just might bring Sansa’s freedom.
Excerpt:
Princess Myrcella offered Sansa the first flower, and sunlight blazed off the crystal window like fire.
It was a lovely, striking thing—slender and long, with velvety petals jagged as daggers, darker than the rubies that kissed Myrcella’s golden throat. Its center mirrored ravished flesh, blooming and puckered, like lips. Bloodied lips.
“A Dornish iris,” Myrcella said. The glint in her green eyes was kind, yet sly. “For the red of your hair.”
Red. Red like her Tully hair. Red like the blood that rained from Father when Ice fell, and cut, and lit in the morning sun, and the crowd rejoiced, and Sansa screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
Red like Lannisters.
“It’s beautiful,” Sansa said. The bile burned just beyond her voice. “I am undeserving of such consideration. My princess is so kind to think of me.” The slightest smirk played at Myrcella’s lips—cruel or playful, Sansa could not tell, but she saw that mouth, all the same. Saw those full, pink, bow-shaped lips cage words unsaid. “And my lady aunt is far too humble. You deserve this gift, and more, simply by your presence. Your name. We must never forget our names, nor what we are owed because of them.”
