so is Joffrey

anonymous asked:

what shifts in Katie's acting do you see when she goes from being else a good or bad character. like not obvious doing evil stuff vs doing nice things, but like maybe a lower nice when being evil, or a certain facial expressions?

The Glare™

The Stare™

The Smirk™

The Sneer™

The Sass™

During and after her shift, you see Morgana’s cold, calm, calculating side. She exuded confidence and a bit of arrogance, as you see in the glare, smirk, and sass. When she had her plans and saw them coming into fruition, in her mind, she had already won. She was Morgana Pendragon. Eventually, the Last High Priestess and everyone was beneath her. 

She was also very intense. Hence the stare, the sneer, and even her voice. Pretty soul penetrating. Unblinking. Unflinching. Along with that confidence she was quite intimidating and that was something that worked in her favor.

A lot of people use the Trident to pit the Stark sisters against each other. Both Arya and Sansa made mistakes on that day and innocent lives were lost, but ultimately Joffrey is the one to blame for his actions. Both girls were in an extremely tense situation that they were not equipped to handle by themselves. What is more important is that Arya and Sansa have both learned from their experience and this is shown after Ned’s death.

At the trident, Sansa is afraid and tells Arya to stay out of it. She doesn’t know what to do, so she does nothing, allowing Joffrey to cut Mycah rather than intervening. Flash forward to A Clash of Kings when Joffrey is ordering the death of Ser Dontos. Sansa impulsively says he can’t and when she is almost faced with Joffrey’s wrath, recovers by stroking his ego and successfully persuades Joffrey to make Ser Dontos a fool instead of killing him. Sansa is able to bravely maneuver the situation in a way that she was not able to at the Trident and saves an innocent life.

Arya is also afraid at the Trident, mostly for Mycah. No one is listening when she tells Joffrey to stop and she reacts by hitting him, starting a fight where Nymeria comes to her rescue by attacking Joffrey. Flash forward to A Clash of Kings when Arya is at Harrenhal and wants to free the prionser northmen. Like with Mycah, Arya seeks justice for northerners and people connected to her family, but knows she can’t just try to attack the guards. Instead, she outsmarts Jaqen H’ghar and he helps her free the prisoners. Arya is able to think strategically to achieve this outcome without touching a single sword, wooden or otherwise.

It’s easy to pick apart how the Trident incident could have been prevented and point fingers, but it’s more important to see how far both girls have come. Since the Trident incident, Arya and Sansa have learned how to manage extreme situations and can even control them. They have come from opposite sides of the flight/fight spectrum and, while still having their own strengths and weaknesses, are both far better centred. 

A Critique of a Poisoning in Literature: A Song of Ice and Fire’s Purple Wedding.

An analysis of Joffrey Baratheon’s poisoning in George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire: the chemical compound used, its effects, method of application and onset in comparison to a hypothetical real-life counterpart: strychnine, and the author’s justifications for suggesting this equivalent. Posting for those who said they were interested, a piece of coursework I wrote for a pharmacology poisons module / the university’s English literature department. I wrote this in the first year of my degree  ( 2+ years ago now! )  so don’t expect a lot from my writing/analytical skills !!!

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Arya Stark: Justice, Not Vengeance 

An important part of Arya’s AGOT arc is her harsh introduction into the realities of the world beyond Winterfell. Like the rest of her siblings, she’s raised believing the world is a certain way: Bad people will be punished and the innocent will be protected. So when she sees Joffrey assaulting Mycah, she does what she’s been taught is the right thing to do: she stops him. Once Joffrey is disarmed completely, she even stops Nymeria from mauling him. This moment is about justice for her, not vengeance.

So it’s a heavy blow when everything goes down hill from there. Nymeria has to be driven off so she won’t be killed for protecting Arya, Mycah is murdered, Lady is executed out of spite, and Arya is blamed by her sister for everything that happened. All the while, the villains, Joffrey, Cersei, and the Hound get away with everything. The part that has one of the most significant impacts on Arya though is the complete lack of response from those around her that she trusted to protect her and enforce justice.

This was the first time they had supped with the men since arriving in King’s Landing. Arya hated it. She hated the sounds of their voices now, the way they laughed, the stories they told. They’d been her friends, she’d felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie. They’d let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah. Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he’d cut him up in so many pieces that they’d given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they’d slaughtered. And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father. – AGOT

This incident is hugely important in the forming of Arya’s character since this makes her see her countrymen and the whole justice system in a new way. Witnessing the men she trusted turning a blind eye to injustice is a betrayal and the beginning of her familiarity with the realities of the world.

As she witnesses and endures the horrors of ACOK, she realizes that criminals going unpunished is an almost constant occurrence. That’s part of why she keeps her list of the names of those who have hurt her, her family, or other innocents. The list is seen as the ultimate proof of her vengeful nature, but it’s really a coping mechanism to help her get through the atrocities of the life she’s been thrown into. It’s also a way of keeping track of the criminals who have escaped punishment so they can be executed later, because that’s the type of justice she’s been taught.

I should kill them myself. Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. “If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look him in the face and hear his last words,” she’d heard him tell Robb and Jon once. – ACOK

In a corrupt world where justice is disregarded in favor of the interests of the powerful, Arya takes what she has been taught by her father and tries to enforce the justice that’s missing from that world. That’s why she “wastes” one of the deaths Jaqen promises her on Chiswyck, who casually confesses to gang raping a thirteen year old. That’s why she ruins her cover as Mercy to execute Raff, the man who also participated in the rape and murdered Lommy. That’s why she struggles to kill the insurance man for the Faceless Men, trying convince herself that he earned death and should be punished.

You know what really gets me: After all this time, after all that she has been through, after all she has seen and done and endured, Arya still remembers Mycah. Mycah, the boy who played with her on the kingsroad, who showed her the lizard lions, helped her look for rubies in Rubie Ford,  picked flowers with her, and helped her get covered in mud afterwards when she got a rash.  After everyone forget about it or dismissed it, with Joffrey worrying about his scars, and Cersei worrying about Joffrey, and Sansa about Lady, Arya was the only who remembered the boy who died. Who was twelve and young and innocent, who played with her, who died for her, who was her friend, and she was only one who thought he deserved justice. That he deserved to be fought for. 

The Golden Lioness

Here’s another crappy imagine, lol. 

Imagine: Being a sister to Cersei and Jaime and putting Joffrey in his place when he becomes too wild for Cersei to handle.

Originally posted by valarmorghulis-k

You loved your older brother and sister, truly. Despite their obvious affection towards each other, you knew it was better to accept it then go against it. You were the third born Lannister with your golden short hair and your emerald green eyes. You were caressed greatly by your older siblings and your younger brother, Tyrion. Despite the loss of your mother, you dotted over your younger brother much to the anger of your older sister.

When Joffrey was born, you remained silent about the Lannister golden hair and eyes. You ignored the rumors of incest and the rumors of Joffrey not being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. You stood by your sister’s side even after Joffrey killed off Eddard Stark and did your best to stop the torment Joffrey inflicted on Sansa Stark.

A lioness you were and you should no fear; not even to King Joffrey.

He was out of control but you loved your nephew. You knew he was demented and twisted but you had loved him since he was a babe. Cersei knew she was losing control and often confided in you and only you to reel her kingly son in.

You were making way to the throne room. Your beautiful gown whishing at your ankles as you moved with grace and poise. Your handmaidens following behind with worried expressions. You were meant to spend the morning drinking tea with Sansa. You adored and admired that Stark girl. You wanted to protect her against your calculating sister and abusive nephew.

You often found yourself torn between what was right and what your family thought was right. You knew Joffrey must’ve had Sansa. He had no care of the poor girl’s feelings or emotions. He was a monster incapable of remorse.

When you entered the throne room, you found Sansa in tears on the ground with her pretty dress torn at the right shoulder. Joffrey was on his throne with an indifferent and angry expression on his face. That hound was only watching with concealed disgust towards his master. You marched up the room with an expression of anger towards your nephew.

“Ah, auntie dearest!” Joffrey perked up looking pleased to see you.

You were his favorite aunt—his only aunt.

“What is the meaning of this?” You demand cradling the crying girl in your arms.

“Merely showing this girl her place, she forgets who she speaks to.” Joffrey responded with a snort of indifference as he stands from his throne and makes way towards you, “Bloody savage she is. She needs to be taught how to be a proper Southern lady—like you, Auntie.” He says with a smile aimed towards you.

You help the wolf girl stand as she clings to you for dear life, “Nina, take her to my chambers. Lela, you fetch her some warm tea and fresh food.” You order quietly to your handmaidens who take the crying girl out of your arms and away from this tormentor.

Joffrey frowns at you, “That is my wife.” He hisses at you—an angered expression blooming on his young face.

“Is that how you treat your woman, nephew?” You demand standing up to the King without an ounce of fear—you’ve stood up against scarier men before—“You are becoming a monster. What has happened to my sweet Joffrey, ay? You think degrading life is fun, do you?” You do the unthinkable and shove the King on the ground and brandish your sword to his throat—his hound does not make a move. His knights only stand and watch.

No one would dare go against the Lioness of Casterly Rock. Joffrey is in complete and utter shock and merely stares at the tip of the blade pressed at his throat. “Do you see your guards and your hound? They are not loyal to you, you monster. They wouldn’t care if I were to silt your damn throat.” Your voice is full of malice and ice. The teenager merely stares in fear as you pressed the blade against his cheek causing him to flinch.

“I am here to put you in your damn place,” You snarled as Cersei walks in with a cold look as she watches her son be tormented by you, “You disrespect our name, you bring shame to the Baratheon name, and you bring shame to yourself.” You spat sheathing your weapon underneath your dress.

“I am your King!” Joffrey yells although his eyes are full of fury—they hold an ounce of fear.

You grinned weakly, “You are no king of mine, child. A man who calls himself a king is no king at all.” You sneered angrily.

“Mother!” Joffrey cries looking at her to save him.

Cersei remains stoic and simply gazes at her son without remorse. You smirk grabbing him and pulling him in close to your face, “Let this serve as a reminder of where your place truly is. Listen to your mother with respect. Listen to me with fear. Your guards are to protect you but not from your own mother and aunt. If I see that poor girl crying again or even has a bruise on her body, I will make sure you suffer a fate worse then the one Eddard Stark faced.” You threatened with a vicious growl that was so feral—Joffrey was too stunned to even speak.

Cersei watched pleased as you handled her beastly son. The Hound looked on with a smirk while the guards simply kept quiet and mentally cheered the Lioness. “Your mother has turned into a stag but I am a Lioness and there is no possible way that a child like you will instill fear in me.” You quietly said setting the King on the ground. “A King you might be but you are merely a puppet for your mother to use. You are only that, Little King, a mere puppet. Do as you’re told or you’ll face my wrath.” You gave a final threat before moving towards your sister.

Cersei looks at you content with your show, “You did me a great favor.”

You stare at your older sister and sigh, “He came out a twisted lion, dear sister. The other two came out gentle stags.” You mumbled quietly to her.

She looks pained to hear these words because she knows her son is a monster—nothing like her or Jaime but worse. The People wouldn’t stand to have another Mad King—they would rebel and the last thing Cersei needed was a rebellion during a war. “I’m not sure what to do with him.” Cersei whispers quietly.

The Hound is helping the angry King on his feet. Joffrey is spitting mad and demanding to his Hound, “Why didn’t you bloody save me, you mutt?!” He screeched.

The Hound remained indifferent and remarked, “No Hound could go up against a Lioness.” He says which leaves Joffrey pale and frightened as he looks at his Aunt Y/N.

You smirk at him with malice before excusing yourself, “I am returning to my chambers, Cersei. If you need anything, call for me.” You kiss your sister on her cheek as she nods at you. You make way out of the throne room with the Kings-guards bowing slightly at your depart.

Originally posted by vikings-history-channel

anonymous asked:

What do you think made Stannis suspect that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen weren't Robert's children?

Thanks for the question, Anon.

It’s a very good question, and not one that I think we have enough information to ever definitively answer.

Certainly, I don’t think it was until a good few years at least into Robert’s reign that Stannis would have ever begun to suspect anything. After all, the look of Joffrey alone would not be enough to prove anything: the strong dominance of Baratheon “genes” over Lannister (that is, blond) ones doesn’t seem to be common knowledge in Westeros (considering it took the reading of that old genealogical tome for Jon Arryn, and Ned, to come to the shocking conclusion). However, I would think that no later than the birth/infancy of Tommen would Stannis have started to suspect something. One Lannister-looking Baratheon child might be expected, two perhaps coincidental, but three in a row? A hard claim to swallow, especially since by 291 AC (when Tommen was born), Stannis had already borne witness to the conception and birth of the king’s bastard Edric four years prior - a boy who looked exactly like Renly and Robert, minus the large Florent ears.

Not to mention that, the longer Cersei and Jaime’s affair continued, the less discreet they almost certainly would have been. It’s common enough behavior that, the longer one gets away with something illicit, the less careful one becomes about doing the illicit thing - the odds of being caught appearing to be low. The sheer number of people who eventually learned Cersei and Jaime were having an affair (Varys, Littlefinger, Renly, Pycelle, Jon Arryn, and of course Stannis, at minimum), along with the twin’s attitudes toward it, speaks to how not-careful Cersei and Jaime were about keeping their highly illegal activities a secret. Stannis, who would have been living at least part-time in the Red Keep as a member of the king’s small council, would have been a direct witness to Cersei’s “half a hundred” urgings to her husband to go hunting while her brother kept her “well-protected”, and would have been on the front lines of any gossip concerning the queen and her Kingsguard twin. I don’t think Stannis would have failed to take notice that the queen was spending an awful lot of time with her brother, and indeed seeking out opportunities for the two of them to be alone - and while history-minded Stannis might have thought of Queen Naerys and her Kingsguard brother, Cersei was far from pious Naerys, and Jaime the Kingslayer far from the sterling-reputation Aemon.

Obviously, when talking about this matter, Tyrion’s conversation with Varys in ACOK has to be included:

Tyrion adjusted the heavy cloak and paced restlessly. “You missed a lively council. Stannis has crowned himself, it seems.”

“I know.”

“He accuses my brother and sister of incest. I wonder how he came by that suspicion.”

“Perhaps he read a book and looked at the color of a bastard’s hair, as Ned Stark did, and Jon Arryn before him. Or perhaps someone whispered it in his ear.” The eunuch’s laugh was not his usual giggle, but deeper and more throaty.

“Someone like you, perchance?”

“Am I suspected? It was not me.”

“If it had been, would you admit it?”

“No. But why should I betray a secret I have kept so long? It is one thing to deceive a king, and quite another to hide from the cricket in the rushes and the little bird in the chimney. Besides, the bastards were there for all to see.”

“Robert’s bastards? What of them?”

“He fathered eight, to the best of my knowing,” Varys said as he wrestled with the saddle. “Their mothers were copper and honey, chestnut and butter, yet the babes were all black as ravens … and as ill-omened, it would seem. So when Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen slid out between your sister’s thighs, each as golden as the sun, the truth was not hard to glimpse.”

Tyrion shook his head. If she had borne only one child for her husband, it would have been enough to disarm suspicion … but then she would not have been Cersei. “If you were not this whisperer, who was?”

“Some traitor, doubtless.” Varys tightened the cinch.


“I named no name.“ 

Here, Varys all but explicitly accuses Littlefinger of planting the idea in Stannis’ mind. On the one hand, this is as Littlefinger likes to operate - using well-placed intermediaries to nudge pawns in his chosen direction, while keeping his own hands clean (his trick to get Loras planted in the Kingsguard being a preeminent example). With Littlefinger’s string of brothels in the capital, it might be suspected that perhaps Litttlefinger used the prostitutes there employed to spread the gossip of Robert’s black-haired bastards to, say, Justin Massey (a man whom Stannis describes as sharing his brother’s "appetite” for women), who then passed it on to Lord Stannis.

At the same time, I share with @racefortheironthrone doubts as to Littlefinger’s part in this scheme. While Stannis is quick to blame Littlefinger where he sees fit - in the unsuccessful attempt to fire Janos Slynt, for one - he never brings up Littlefinger’s supposed role in this most important political maneuver. Nor would it really benefit Littlefinger to have Stannis find out: if Robert believes him, that brings Stannis within a breath of the Iron Throne as its heir - hardly a good position for a man like Littlefinger, who had profited handsomely from bureaucratic corruption. And, of course, Varys himself had every reason to attempt to discredit his biggest rival to the new Hand of the King while the latter was still in the early part of his tenure.

So in my mind, I think Stannis simply came to the suspicion himself based on his own observations, and that Varys was more correct than he lets on in pointing out how Robert’s many bastards made the Lannister looks of his “trueborn” children that much more glaring. Hence why, I think, Stannis decided to go to Jon Arryn: the only evidence at this point was the queen’s desire to be in her brother’s company, the obviously unhappy marriage between the two, and Robert’s black-haired bastards (the only one of whom Stannis might have known for sure at this point was Edric), and such a weak case might have been easily dismissed - or, worse, been investigated and dismissed for lack of evidence, damning any further accusations in the future.

The Queen Regent (NFriel)

Dragonstone vs. the Iron Throne

Apperently there was some “discourse” over wether or not the D deserves to come “home”, about wether or not she even has the right to call Dragonstone and Westeros her home in the first place. Many D-critics argue that she is essosi by all means, while many D-fans argue against that. I actually have to agree with some D-fans here (sort of). It’s not her fault that she was forced to live in exile all her life. She considers herself westerosi and she sees Dragonstone as her family seat. (maybe don’t use her original valyrian, essosi heritage to undermine the imperial undertones of her rule in slavers bay, when she clearly doesn’t see herself as essosi) It does smell a bit of victim-blaming to outright deny her that wish and motivation. She has as much the right to fight for the place she was born in as Sansa, Arya, Bran and Jon (he wasn’t born in Winterfell, but he grew up there… so).   

But here’s the thing:

If her main goal was to reclaim her ancestral home of Dragonstone, I would tell her to kick Stannis out of her castle. Seriously. If she wanted to return as Lady of Dragonstone, accepting the rebellions legitimacy, with the intention of reestablishing House Targaryen in the new political landscape, I would see no reason to object. 

This would be highly improbable, but completely impossible? Maybe. Maybe not. If Aegon and Rhaenys had lived, they would have probably been allowed to live with their mother in Dorne or more likely as wards (read “hostages”) to the Baratheons or another loyal family, under the condition of denouncing their right to the Iron Throne and bending the knee once they were of age. Robert didn’t begrudge Tywin for butchering “dragonseed”, but I don’t think he would have killed them after taking the throne, against Ned’s and Jon Arryn’s objections. What better way to fortify the new rulers claim than having the old ones swear fealty to them? Maybe, just maybe, something similar would have been possible for the D as well? 

Roberts hate for the Targaryens would have made this near impossible, so does Joffreys and Cerseis lunacy, but when Tommen was king? The death of Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon, the assasination attempts on Viserys and the D don’t exactly pave the way for a peacefull resolution neither, I admit that. (Though (showverse) she was working on getting Khal Drogo to invade the seven kingdoms when Robert send someone to poison her. Maybe she shouldn’t ask “King Robert still wants me dead? I thought he’d leave me alone now that my brother is gone…” while plotting to conquer the Seven Kingdoms with the help of her warlord husband for the entire episode. I mean, she asks Jorah when the Dothraki will finally start their invasion, being frustrated about it taking so long, just before meeting the wine seller. Yeah, Khaleesi, why does he want you dead? Questions, questions… But I digress.) All of this woud change the story drastically, it depends on so many characters decisions, so many variables that I don’t dare to predict and it’s an highly unlrealistic, utopian idea anyway (I’m aware of that). After all the realities of this aren’t what I want to talk about here. I will leave that to people with better understanding of westerosi and feudal politics. What’s important to me here, is the underlying sentiment of the D returning to Westeros. 

She doesn’t just want to return to her home, she doesn’t even first and foremost see taking the Iron Throne as a necessary evil to do so. She wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms, she sees that as her birthright. Returning to her home and ruling are the same thing in her mind. She is ready to fight for that with fire and blood and a dothraki horde, right from the beginning until landing in Westeros. If all she really wanted was “home”, as many D-fans like to point out, wouldn’t she at least entertain any possible peaceful way to do so? Even if she had to dismiss it as impossible for so many reasons? She doesn’t acknowledge Robert’s rebellion as a justified uprising against her tyrannical father, she sees it as a crime against her family. Even after admitting that her father was a mad-man, it never influences her believe that she still is the rightful heir. She still sees herself as the rightful ruler and the Baratheons as usurpers, regardless of her fathers crimes. You could excuse her view on the matter as a result of all the propaganda Viserys fed her, but does it really matter where her believes come from, if she never questions them? If she still acts on them without second thoughts? 

Never spending one day of her adult life in Westeros doesn’t diminish her right “to go home”, but it does degrade her ability to rule over the entire country. Knowing, really knowing, the place and the people is an important qualification to be a good, just ruler. (As she should have learned in Meereen and as much as I hate bringing real life politics into discussions like this, even today you have to be born, have citizenship and/or have lived in a certain country for a long time to hold high political offices.)

Her fathers overthrow and her following exile doesn’t render her longing for home meaningless and it doesn’t make her a hypocrite for feeling that way. But it does take away her “birthright” to rule over everyone else. My problem is that she never really doubts the legitimacy of her claim to the Iron Throne. At best, she sees her father as the one bad apple of the Targaryen dynasty, without questioning the legitimacy of her families rule in the first place. She never really recognizes that the targs were foreign invaders to begin with. She thinks being a “dragon” justifies her rule, or at least, taking what she wants with fire and blood. I hope I don’t have to get into how problematic it is, to subdue a nation just because you have the means to do so. To believe, you have the inherent right to do so, because you can. 

I don’t deny her right to her home, I deny her right to the Iron Throne. What I question is her ambition to raise herself over everyone else. Not her wish to live on the same grounds as her ancestors. That’s the difference between taking Dragonstone vs. taking the Iron Throne. Even if it would come down to the same actions, because she can’t have one without the other, the distinction in her motivations behind it are, to me, very important.  The D isn’t a “better Targaryen”, she’s working with the same toxic mindset as her ancestors. 

The Silver Viper

Request from @intxthing :
The reader is half Dornish and half Westerosi (her mother was Dornish and her father was Westerosi). She can be a servant girl or royalty, doesn’t matter. She comes to Kings Landing to work/live in the Red Keep during a celebration or something when Oberyn is visiting. And Jaime and Oberyn both notice her because of her unique Dornish/Westerosi look. The rest is up to you!

Jaime Lannister X Reader X Oberyn Martell

A/N: I hope you like it! With love, Kat

Words: 1914

People always asked you where you hailed from, because of your unique features. Your mother was Lady Allyrion of Dorne, and your father was Lord Buckler of the Stormlands. You weren’t sure how exactly your family came to be, all you knew is that you were technically royalty. Since you lived in Dorne your whole life, you kept your mother’s surname. You were Lady Y/N Allyrion of Godsgrace, Dorne. You had the dark hair and olive skin of the Dornish, but the light eyes and the petite build of those from the Stormlands. You also had a streak of silver hair that began towards the front of your head near your part and was visible no matter how your hair was done.

You were en route to Kings Landing to attend the royal wedding with your septa and your guards in tow. This would be your first time to Kings Landing, and you were sure you would get countless questions about your heritage because you didn’t look Dornish or Westerosi, you looked like an incredible mixture of the two. On occasion people even thought you were from Essos or Meereen or even Braavos, simply because they couldn’t place your distinct combination of features.

“Lady Y/N” your septa snapped you from your deep thoughts to tell you that you were coming up on the gates of Kings Landing. It was a beautiful place, with it’s long, slender streets and alleyways and the castle was something that could only be described as immense. It was easily three times the size of your castle in Godsgrace and the spires looked like they touched the sky.

Walking up to the large, wooden doors of the castle, your guards introduced you to the two men of the Kingsguard who were in front of the door. Upon hearing your name, they opened the doors and stepped aside so you could walk in. You would never get tired of the sound of your shoes clicking across the stone floor in the large, empty hallway of the castle. The way the ceiling was arched and the size of the windows made every footstep sound like a symphony. More men of the Kingsguard led you through the Red Keep to a large hall where the royalty and many of their guests were sitting and talking. It was a large meeting to introduce the King and future Queen as well as inform everyone of the events of the next week that will be occurring. Weddings were a big deal in the Faith of the Seven, highly ritualized and generally made a large affair. Especially the royal wedding.

The hand of the King, a man named Jaime Lannister, came to greet you at the door.
“Lady Y/N” he bent slightly to pull your hand into his and kiss your knuckles. Apparently this was custom in the Crownlands because he was the third man to treat you this way. Greetings were much more physical in Dorne, with hugs and kisses on both cheeks being normal.
“Ser Jaime” you curtsied, smiling at him. He was a handsome man, tall in stature with the signature blonde Lannister hair and a jawline that could cut stone. You had heard much about his skills as a fighter and could tell by his build that he was muscular, but lean, and very active.

Jaime brought you over to his family to meet everyone.
“Lady Y/N, this is my sister Cersei, who is Queen regent” he gestured to a beautiful woman who would be even more so if she didn’t have a perpetual scowl on her face.
“This is my nephew, King Joffrey” he gestured to a boy who could nearly be twins with his mother, matching scowl and all.
“Your grace” you curtsied, smiling at him.
“You did not tell me Lady Allyrion was so beautiful, uncle” Joffrey said while waving a hand around, talking to Jaime but his eyes never leaving you. You blushed and immediately curtsied again, the King had just called you beautiful,
“Thank you, your grace” you smiled and he smiled back. The boy wasn’t so bad when he didn’t look angry, but you’d heard from many people that he had quite the temper and was a bit of brat. But honestly what more can you expect from a boy who grew up as rich as the Lannisters, was spoiled to death by his mother, and King at such a young age.

You were excused from the King and Jaime led you towards a table that was currently occupied by other people of Dorne, with one seat left for yourself.
“The introductions and information will begin in a few moments, Lady Y/N. For now, feel free to talk to the other guests” Jaime smiled at you, letting his hand rest on the small of your back as he led you to the table. The gesture seemed a bit too physical for a Westerosi custom, but you brushed it off as Ser Jaime being kind.

Before you could sit, a pair of large arms were wrapped around your waist from behind and kisses were being placed on both of your cheeks.
“Lady Y/N Allyrion, my it has been far too long” you heard a husky voice say next to your ear. You knew who it was from the voice, so before you turned around you said,
“Prince Oberyn, it has indeed been too long” and you spun around to wrap your arms around his neck. While you were hugging him, you made eye contact with Jaime Lannister, who seemed to have his jaw clenched tight and the hand that was not holding on to his sword was fisted in a ball at his side. Anger flashed in his eyes before he realized you were looking at him with an eyebrow raised in confusion and he simply cleared his throat and looked away, trying not to notice you and Oberyn in your embrace. When you pulled back, Oberyn was smiling at you. The two of you knew one another well, since Godsgrace and Sunspear were both on the peninsula of Dorne and were not too far from one another, you dealt with the Martells regularly.

After the introductions, there was much talk about the wedding and how there would be feasts and jousting and plenty of festivities leading up to the wedding at the end of the week. For now, there was going to be a big feast and lots of wine.
“Prince Oberyn I’ve missed your company in Godsgrace!” you said, gesturing at him with your wine, “It gets quite lonely in that big, old castle sometimes” you laughed.
“I’ll have to come visit more often then” he smirked, “you sure have grown since the last time I saw you.” He moved to pour more wine in both of your glasses.
“I suppose that’s a compliment” you laughed.
“Trust me, my dear, it is. I almost wouldn’t have recognized you if it weren’t for your silver streak” he smiled as your hand when to the wide streak of silver hair that was hanging next to your face. You were about to compliment Oberyn back when a warm hand settled on your shoulder. You turned your head to see who it was.
“Ser Jaime” you smiled, a little too enthusiastically.
“Lady Y/N, how is everything?” he smiled at you, glancing over at Oberyn.
“Great! The food and wine are excellent!” you beamed, it was the truth, the food in the Red Keep was amazing and so was the wine.
“Excellent” Jaime smiled, “Would you like to go on my rounds with me? I can give you a tour of the castle” he extended his hand to you.
“I’d love that!” you said, taking his hand and allowing him to help you up and lead you to the door. You’d catch up with Oberyn later, after all, you had the whole week.

After Jaime led you into the hall, he spoke.
“So, Lady Y/N. You know Prince Oberyn well?” he asked, walking down the hall with one hand on his sword.
“Yes” you smiled up at him while walking next to him down the hall, “Oberyn and I both grew up in Dorne. He’s a very good friend of my family, he used to visit Godsgrace often. Not so much anymore, but hopefully that will change.”
“So you’re not together, then?” he asked, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.
“Oh my, no!” you giggled, putting a hand to your chest.
“Well then,” he stopped abruptly and turned so he was now in front of you, facing you, “might I ask if you’re seeing anyone?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m not” you said, biting your lip.

Was Jaime Lannister flirting with you? No, there’s no way. He’s the Jaime Lannister, he wouldn’t be interested in a girl like you.
“Your hair is very unique, it’s no wonder they call you the Silver Viper of Dorne” he said, a small smile playing across his face. He lifted a hand and ran his fingers over the silver streak in your hair.
“Thank you” you said, blushing and glancing at the floor, “it definitely gets attention” you laughed.
“You deserve the attention” he smiled wider now, lifting your face with his hand. He leaned in and placed a sweet kiss on your cheek that lasted a bit longer than it should have. Your blush was darker now, and a smile was spreading across your features, lighting up your face. As his lips were still resting on your cheek, someone yelling broke you two apart.
“Jaime!” you hear being called from down the hall. As you jump back from him, you see his sister Cersei round the corner.
“Oh, Jaime! I was looking for you everywhere” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Come Y/N” Jaime said gesturing for you to walk with him, “let’s get back to the feast now.”

Once you returned to the hall, Prince Oberyn met eyes with you when you walked in the door and smiled.
“Hanging out with the Kingslayer, aye?” he laughed, clapping a hand on your shoulder and leading you back to your shared table.
“He was just showing me round the castle, Viper” you shot back, narrowing your eyes for a moment and then laughing.
“Is that why you only got down the second hall, Viper?” he smirked, emphasizing your shared nickname, raising his eyebrows, taunting you.
“Quit your teasing, Martell” you laughed, “He was just showing me round.”
“Oh, no no no, my dear” he chuckled, pulling you close to his chest and leaning down, putting his lips to your ear he said,
“I do believe the Kingslayer’s got it bad for you.”
Oberyn smirked as he looked over your shoulder, winking at Jaime as he did. That caused Jaime to clench his fists and tighten up his expression, but he couldn’t go up to you, he was sitting with Cersei and Joffrey.
“You jealous, Oberyn?” you leaned back to look at him, laughing.
“Maybe I am” he said proudly, puffing out his chest a little.
“Don’t worry my sweet, sweet Prince, Kingslayer’s got nothing on you. The Dornish charmer” you laughed, wrapping an arm around his waist. In response, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

The two of you walked out of the hall still holding onto one another, Jaime’s jealousy was going to have to wait. For now, you had some major catching up to do.

anonymous asked:

if you're still taking jonsa prompts: Jon saying "if you so much as breathe on her..." Mafia AU

Mafia AU was an honest challenge but I loved it! Thanks for the prompt!

Hope you guys like it!


It’s a little like a cheesy over-the-top romantic comedy but with a lot more blood and no one’s laughing, least of all Jon. Even distantly, in the part of his mind that can appreciate how they met for what it was, he still thinks her life would be better off if he hadn’t shown up in her ER with a bullet wound to the shoulder. Now, because Jon couldn’t stop himself, her life is in danger and it’s all his fault. He should have known better. Who he is and who he has to be can never be worthy of someone like Sansa Stark.

But Jon isn’t going to let his despair and regret cloud him from what he has to do. She’s in danger and he’ll kill every last Lannister if he has to. She’s the only thing in his life that’s ever made sense, and if he loses her like he’s lost everyone else, Jon doesn’t think he can live through that.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Edd inspects his gun for the third time in thirty minutes. He doesn’t look up from his meticulous inspection but his head is inclined towards Jon as he waits for his answer.

Jon wants to shout that, ‘yes, of course he has to bloody do this,’ but he knows rationally it’s not Edd’s fault that he’s being questioned for his actions. The Targaryens have had a long-standing truce with the Lannisters for as long as Jon has been alive – all twenty-four years of his miserable existence – and to do this would be to effectively cut those ties off. But this isn’t some overstep from the Lannisters, procuring and selling weapons on the Targaryens’ territory. This is a direct attack on Jon. They know he’s being groomed to take over the business now that his siblings are both dead and his father is dying. They don’t respect that he’s so young or that he’s not a full Targaryen, and normally Jon wouldn’t even give two shits whether a bunch of golden-haired assholes thought he was worthy of leading the Targaryen family, but they took Sansa and Jon’s going to get her back even if it means he’s breaking every rule in the book.

“You don’t have to stay,” Jon says in lieu of answering because Edd knows he has to, but his friend scoffs loudly and shakes his head. “I don’t need more blood on my hands.”

“How do we know they even have her?” Tormund asks instead. He has his feet propped up on the opposite bench with his arms crossed over his chest. It’s the only way the man can properly fit in the back of the SUV without lying down on the bed of the car. “It might not be the Lannisters.”

Edd scoffs again. “Did you see the way that prick Joffrey was eyeing her the other night? Oh yeah, he definitely has her.”

The water bottle Jon has in his hands crackle loudly. He drops it onto the ground, staring unseeingly at its mangled form. “It’s time.”

All three men file out of the car silently. Edd and Tormund make their way around the abandoned warehouse as Jon walks up to the entrance. They’ll be expecting backup but they won’t be expecting how little backup Jon actually has. He doesn’t trust anyone else to understand how much Sansa means to him and he doesn’t trust anyone else to have his back as loyally as Edd and Tormund.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he quickly answers.

“So you found me.”

Joffrey,” Jon sneers into the phone with as much disgust as he can muster under the circumstances. “Let me in.”

“Uh uh, you’re not in any position to be making demands, or have you forgotten I have your little girlfriend here with me? Say hi, sweetheart.” There’s a muffled whimper and Jon’s heart plummets to the ground. His hands tighten into fists by his side. “She says hi.”

“If you so much as breathe on her, I swear to god I’ll tear apart this warehouse to kill you.”

“Big words for one man,” he laughs, but before Jon can answer, the door to the warehouse swings and a heavily-armed man signals for Jon to come in.

He hangs up the phone and follows. In the centre of the warehouse tied to a chair is a blindfold Sansa. He inspects from where he is, struggling against the urge to run to her and make sure she’s okay, but he is resigned to the consolation that she looks okay. Her hair is tousled and matted to her skin. She looks paler than usual and there is dried blood caking her forehead but her chest rises and falls rhythmically. She’s alive. That’s all that matters for now.

“You have my attention,” Jon says, distinct and clear. “What do you want?”

Joffrey leans against the chair, his hand toying with strands of Sansa’s hair. Jon’s going to kill him. It’s not wishful thinking; he is going to kill him.

“When your father dies, you’ll step back from the business,” Joffrey tells him. “You’ll dismantle the Targaryen family.”

This nearly makes Jon snort because it is now so obvious to Jon that Joffrey has gone behind Tywin’s back. The patriarch would never have bothered with such an asinine plan. He’s more cunning than that; his treachery lies in the seams of an operation. He understands that without a Targaryen family in charge, there’ll be power vacuum and any two-bit drug lord or arms dealer could stroll on in, causing trouble for the Lannisters. The truce they have works because they both respect it. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that.

“And how do I know you won’t just kill us when we leave here?”

“You don’t.” Joffrey presses the muzzle of his gun against Sansa’s temple. “But the alternative is me putting a bullet through her pretty little head right now.”

Sansa jerks her head and he hears something like a growl coming from the woman. It makes him proud that even in the face of possible death she’s defiant to the very end. She’s always been stubborn. It’s one of her most infuriating and endearing qualities. She jerks her head again and begins to speak against her gag.

“Is that necessary?” Jon points to the cloth wrapped around her mouth. “Let her speak.”

Surprisingly, Joffrey unties the gag and drops it to the ground. Sansa lets out another growl before she inclines her head back to look at Joffrey. Her face is startlingly impassive, a firm set of her lips, and blue eyes cold as ice. This is the face she wears in the ER when she’s dealing with particularly unruly patients but as quick as it comes, it can easily slide away to her sweet smile and fond eyes when she meets a young child. The first time he saw it happen, Jon knew instantly that he was stupidly, irrevocably in love with her.

“Leaving an entire section of the city unmanned is not in your best interest,” Sansa says evenly, and Jon’s heart thumps in his chest. He’s never told her about what he does – and that he knows was his first mistake because it’s not like he doesn’t trust her; he was just terrified of her walking away – and Jon can’t fathom what she’s doing right now, but he can see the determination there so he doesn’t interrupt. “People are going to be suspicious and your family will spend months trying to win back their trust.”

Even Joffrey looks impressed, which he tries very hard to hide. “What would you know?”

“My family has been in politics for longer than you’ve been alive,” Sansa spits out. “If you want a change in power, you don’t overthrow the previous regime and expect everything to return to normal. It should be gradual. Start by forming an alliance with the Targaryens.”

“Hmm,” is all Joffrey says for the moment and Jon wants to laugh because the man is clearly not expecting Sansa to be so intelligent and fearless. But Jon did. There’s nothing she can’t do.

“An alliance will increase business on both ends,” Jon adds after the silence has stretched too long, and to show he’s supporting her no matter what. “You can become more involved with us and by the time I step down, no one will be any wiser. No war. No blood shed.” The last he says with bite, just so the message is clear. If Sansa is hurt, there will be a war and Jon won’t care who dies in the process. Love makes people do dangerous things and a lost love can leave a man with nothing left to lose.

Joffrey is stupid but he’s not that stupid and even he can see the merit in this deal, so it’s only five minutes later that he agrees to the terms, cuts Sansa’s ties loose, and then Jon is finally, finally holding her in his arms like she is the most precious thing in the entire world.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into her hair, one hand pressing against the back of her head and the other wrapped around her. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

Sansa laughs, voice muffled against the crook of his neck. He can feel her smile into his skin and he lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m fine, Jon. Let’s… Let’s get out of here, okay?”

He nods as he takes her hand. He’s not sparing Joffrey another glance because he has Sansa back and she’s not pushing him away. If anything, she’s pulling him closer, latching herself to his side like she can’t get enough of him, and that’s okay with Jon. He’d be happy to just hold her for the rest of his life.

Once they’re back in the van with Edd and Tormund, who nod to Jon in acknowledgement as they cram into the front, Jon turns her in his arms and kisses her, soft and chaste, on the lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I thought by not telling you about all this I was protecting you but… I got you hurt anyways. I’ll understand if you don’t want to… It’ll be okay if you don’t want to see me ever again.”

Sansa pulls back to look at him. “Will it? Because I won’t be okay if I don’t get to see you again.” She shakes her head, sighing softly. “I’m not happy about how I found out about your… um, family business, but I love you, okay? You’re a broody, stubborn man, but I love you and I’m here if you’ll have me. We’ll figure this out together.”

He surges forward to capture her lips again, turning the kiss from soft and chaste to desperate and needy. She loves him and she wants this just as much as him, and those thoughts are so intoxicating to Jon that he completely forgets about Joffrey until they’re curled up on his bed later that evening watching the six o’clock news.

Police suspect that the cause of the burned down warehouse in lower Riverrun was due to arson.”

Sansa shifts from her position so she’s resting her chin on his chest. “You did this, didn’t you?”

“It’s a message,” Jon answers easily. “They had a new shipment in the basement so we burnt it all. This way Joffrey knows that he can’t use you as a bargaining chip.”


“No one was hurt.” Although Jon was thoroughly tempted to hurt everyone involved in the kidnapping but he knows Sansa wouldn’t approve. She may be okay with his family business but she’s a doctor and the taking of lives goes against everything she is. “But if they take you again, I won’t be so kind.”

Sansa huffs but she presses a kiss onto his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“We also might have sent a second message,” Jon admits after a moment. At Sansa’s questioning gaze, he chuckles softly. “We knew his father didn’t know about the kidnapping so we sent a little nudge in the form of a video recording Edd took of the whole conversation at the warehouse.”

Sansa opens her mouth and then closes it. She laughs. “So your business is okay?”

“It’s okay.”

“And we’re okay?”

The slight waver in her voice has Jon sitting up so he can cradle her face in his hands. “I won’t let anyone hurt you for as long as I’m alive, Sans,” he tells her emphatically. “I’ll protect you any way I can, however I can. Even if we’re not… even if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll always be there for you.”

“I want you,” she responds quietly, a small smile at her lips. “Us. This. Even all of your questionable life choices. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?” Jon has to ask because this is not a normal response and he doesn’t know if he believes her. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of what happened. She might regret it in the morning. He’d let her go if she did but it’d still kill him to do it. “My life is dangerous, Sansa. I do things that I’m not proud of. My family aren’t good people.”

“But you are,” Sansa says instantly. “You’re the best person I know. And…” She ducks her head to rest her cheek to his chest again. “They’re not your family. Edd’s your family. Tormund is. I’m your family.”

“You have too much faith in me,” Jon says but he’s grinning down at her. “I’m going to make bad decisions. Do bad things.”

“And I’ll be there to help you fix it. Get used to it, Jon Targaryen. I’m here and I’m staying.”

“Well,” Jon laughs again and drops a kiss to her hair. “Good. Because I love you and I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“You better,” is the last thing she says before her breaths even out and she’s fast asleep, curled into his side.

Yup, Jon thinks, he’s definitely stupidly in love with her.

Game of Thrones Preferences/Imagines: How You Meet

Originally posted by thebestofgameofthrones

Tyrion Lannister:

You met Tyrion when he accidentally stumbled into you, in a drunken stupor. He had spilled his chalice of wine down your dress and threw up on your shoes. He quickly wiped the filth from his mouth and looked up into your (e/c) eyes. “My lady, where do I begin to apologize?” He asked.

You didn’t answer right away. You just stared down at the little lord in amazement. How could such a handsome man be such a drunken little lecher? “You could start by buying me a new dress and uhm, new shoes.” You replied.

He smiled widely. “A Lannister always pays his debts.”

Keep reading

Killer Queen

Drabble request from anonymous

Jaime Lannister x Reader

18. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.”
47. Sleepy waking up cuddles
48. “Oh god, what did we do last night?”

Originally posted by cute-guysxx

A/N: Tbh I really didn’t have a plan for this drabble I just let it flow out of me like water, writing whatever came natural and making a few tweaks here and there afterwards. Also I had a twisted enjoyment out of having the reader try and get revenge haha. Hope y’all enjoy xoxox

Warnings: language (cause I have a cussing problem), fluff, angst, mentions of blood and death, lots of threatening, Joffrey being a prick, Jaime being a knight in shining armor

Words: 1400ish (lol this was supposed to be a drabble and I just let it get away from me)

“Fuck you, you demented, bloodthirsty little bastard!” you screamed as you slapped Joffrey across the face, allowing the ring you wore to cut his cheek. A satisfied smile split your features as you watched the blood flow down his cheekbone past his jaw, signaling that you had given him a good, hard hit.

“You best watch your tone you little whore. Or you’ll end up like that poor little toy of yours, with your head on a spike” he smirked, waving his hand at the guard beside him, silently asking for a cloth to wipe away the blood on his face.

“If you say one more word to me Joffrey. I swear by the old gods and the new that I will personally slit your throat so deep your head might just fall off that fragile little neck of yours” you warned, your tone getting dangerously low as you pointed a finger at your husband, your king. You lifted the delicate crown off of your head and dropped it to the floor. The metal ringing against the hard stone floor, echoing throughout the throne room. Your eyes cut through the air like daggers as you made eye contact with your husband at the exact moment that your foot came down onto the crown that just moments ago was placed on your head.

After successfully destroying the symbol of your power and connection to that snide little bastard Joffrey, you stormed out of the room, throwing the throne room doors open and nearly taking out the two guards posted by the doors in the process. One of those guards was Jaime Lannister. Kingslayer. Silently hoping that he’d reignite that nickname of his, you ran quickly up the stairs to the room that was yours and yours alone. It was no secret that you and Joffrey hated one another. Everybody knew it to the point where nobody even flinched when the two of you threatened one another’s lives. The guards wouldn’t harm either of you even if the other one commanded it, so a lot of the threats were empty. Except for that last one. You were going to slit his throat, you decided.

It took a bit of planning, but you finally figured out how you were going to do it. You were going to wait until he was asleep and the guards went to change shifts, which they did at exactly the same time every night. During that small window when nobody was guarding his room, you were going to sneak in with the knife you kept under your pillow for protection and drag it across his throat. Yes, you’d probably be beheaded for killing the king, but you didn’t care. Hells, the kingdom might even worship you for doing it, gods know everybody fucking hated Joffrey. Seriously, everybody. Even his guards. It was a wonder he was still breathing.

With the knife tucked securely in your belt, you tiptoed out of your room and snuck around the corner just as the guard was leaving his post to go get the man who was supposed to relieve him. You slowly turned the doorknob to his room, feeling as though everyone in the kingdom could hear your heartbeat and your breathing because of how much adrenaline was coursing through your veins. Once you had snuck into the room, you pulled the knife from your belt and began stalking over to the bed where your husband lay. For a moment you considered stabbing yourself in the stomach after the fact, making it look like self defense but you decided to say fuck it and reached towards his exposed neck, knife in hand.

Suddenly a large, warm hand clamped over your mouth when another one wrapped around and held your wrist in place, making sure you couldn’t strike with the weapon you were still holding. Tears welled in your eyes as you realized you were caught, you were going to be killed and Joffrey was going to smile while one of his lackeys beheaded you.

Strong arms pulled you out of the king’s room and into the hall before tossing open the door to your bedchambers and tossing you inside. You finally got a look at the man who destroyed your plans and there he was, standing with his back to your door and bearing into you with a look you thought was going to make you melt into a puddle of tears. You simply couldn’t help it when you fell to the floor, a crumpled pile of sadness as sobs racked your body.

Hey, it’s okay. I’m here” soothed the Kingslayer in an attempt to calm you down. He sat down on the floor next to you, his bulky armor making the position uncomfortable but he didn’t care.

“You need to be quieter, sweetheart. Someone’s going to hear you” he whispered as he brushed your y/h/c hair away from where it was hanging over your face.

“Why did you stop me?” you mumbled out, allowing yourself to slump against the cold, hard metal of his breastplate as he held your head to him with his hand.

“I couldn’t let you kill him, your grace. He’s an ungrateful little brat but you’re the strong, lovable queen. Can’t have you beheaded for killing the king. Kings Landing would have a full on revolt if anyone lays a hand on you, we need to keep the peace” he continued to rattle off reasons why you needed to stay calm and collected in the public eye as he lifted you and place you into your bed. Your head ached from the tears and your eyes were burning. You grabbed the carafe of wine off of your table and began drinking, allowing Jaime to drink some as well. The last thing you remember is drunkenly crying and leaning your head against Jaime’s chest as you drifted in and out of sleep as he kissed the top of your head.

The sun peeking through your windows woke you up and you shifted slightly as you felt a heavy arm slung over your waist. Not noticing that you normally didn’t wake up with someone else in your bed, you snuggled into the man’s chest, sighing deeply when his arms wrapped around to hold you tightly to him. Your mind was quiet as you felt the warm, surprisingly soft hands creep underneath the hem of your shirt and settle on the small of your back. You hummed as you nestled your face in his neck, feeling his long hair brush across your face as he turned to face you.

“Mmm, Y/N. This is nice” he groaned, shifting so his legs were tangled with yours as he interlaced his large fingers with your much smaller ones.

Then it hit you. You were cuddling with Jaime Lannister.

“Oh my god” you sprung out of bed, standing a few feet a way and facing Jaime, shaking.

Oh god, what did we do last night?” you screeched, letting your hands fly to your head as you paced back and forth, “We didn’t… Did we?” you couldn’t remember a thing and you were trying, grasping for any memory of the night before but between the slight sting of your eyes from crying and the pounding of your head you couldn’t place a single thing.

“Gods, no. Sweetheart I just wanted to make sure you didn’t go running off into the night attempting assassinations again and you insisted I sleep in your bed rather than on the floor” he chuckled, sitting up in your bed and pulling up a pillow to place behind his head as he leaned against the headboard.

“Oh, thank goodness” you breathed out, relief flooding your brain as you shuffled back over to the bed to flop down and potentially go back to sleep.

“Now, can you promise me you won’t kill my nephew?” he rubbed small circles on your shoulder.

“Fine I guess” you huffed, smirking a little at Jaime’s concern, more so for you than for Joffrey.

“Plus I wouldn’t want to upset the public because they lost the queen they love so much” chuckles erupted from your slightly sore body.

“Your grace, the kingdom would absolutely crumble without you” he smiled, kissing you on the temple before beginning to gather his things and leave the room to start his shift in the throne room.


game of thrones + parents and their children – as requested by anon