@asoiafrarepairs​ prompt weekend event. Prompt: Jaime wins the Tourney of Harrenhal and crowns Princess Elia his Queen of Love and Beauty. 

People have always told Myrcella that she is beautiful, and sweet, and that her pretty face will fetch her a rich husband. No one complimented her on her wits, on her strength. They only saw a pampered princess. Even when the truth came out, that she wasn’t a trueborn heir to the throne, no one ever suspected that there was a mind as sharp as her grandfather’s behind the golden curls and fixed smile. 

So she washes her face every morning, puts on her prettiest dresses and prettiest smiles, and secretly hopes to tear them all apart.

At first, Myrcella merely puts her mind to survival, but when Jon Snow grants her sanctuary in the North, she has room to be ambitious as well. And if a bastard can be king in this country, she can make herself his queen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ned/Cersei - It was a long time ago, before spouses, before children, before family loyalties and political alliances would tear them apart.

The queen did not love her husband, and that was no secret, not even to the drunken oaf himself. The two had not shared a bed in years, and Seven only knew which whore had to tolerate his heaving, sweating corpulence each night. She knew her maids whispered behind her back, knew they carried tales of their estrangement to any of the dozens of loathsome snakes that populated the Red Keep, but Cersei cared little for the opinions of others, and no one, save Jaime, ever heard her speak her thoughts on the matter at all.

Her golden twin. Her mirror, her confidante, her lover. Her brother believed himself to be the keeper of her secrets, because he knew her better than anyone else. He believed that he was the only man she has ever loved. 

Jaime was half right about one and very wrong about the other.

—

When in his cups, the king was wont to grow nostalgic, overcome with a desire to reminisce about all the fair wenches he’d - no, they’d! - tumbled, past and present. 

Each time, Ned would smile and say nothing. Robert would laugh uproariously, knowing his friend to be staid and - seven hells! - happily married, believing him too much of a gentleman to talk of his own conquests.

(As for him, well. He was a king, not a gentleman.)

Little did he know that the only woman that had mattered to the honorable Ned Stark in their youth was someone whose name Robert knew very well indeed.

——

@asoiafrarepairs prompt weekend event. Prompt: I wasn't even looking when I found you.

- The day I met you my happiest. - And mine. - You know that I never told you: The most beautiful part is, I wasn't even looking when I found you! - I say happy day!

The whistle escapes the gap between her front teeth as Ygritte tilts her head back. The woman’s head blocks out the sun above her, casting a shadow. “You’re a sight, ain’t you?”

The woman turns, and her face no longer cast in shadow means Ygritte can make out her features: blue eyes and short, blonde hair. Lips pressed together tightly and a puzzled frown between her brows. “I beg pardon?”

Ygritte doesn’t answer the question, her eyes flickering to the woman’s waist. “You any good with that?”

“With my sword?”

“Aye. Big looking thing.” Ygritte makes her eyebrows dance. “Lotta muscle to lift that. Bet it means you have to take charge.”

a/n: for @asoiafrarepairs prompfill event!

prompt: robert/lyanna -  “i found your box of letters underneath my bed last night and because i’m a nosy motherfucker i decided to read them and it turns out they were all addressed to me and the last one was dated the day you moved out and i’m not quite sure why i thought this would be a good idea but here i am, standing on your doorstep, wondering why the fuck we’re not together anymore”

He’s not, really, expecting to find anything.

Robert doesn’t think he hates doing anything as much as he hates cleaning. It’s simply not something he’ll ever enjoy, he knows; he’s never done it willingly, even as a kid, putting up as much of a fight as he could in the face of his mom’s disapproval. But having his own apartment – now, having it all to himself, it’s both a blessing and a curse. He can be as messy as he wants, but then there’s no one else to clean up his mess but himself. The silence doesn’t help, whenever he’s cursing as he realizes there’s still cleaning to be done after he’s done with something, and there's no witty retort coming from the next room.

The silence never helps.

His room is last, he always leaves it for last. As it’s the least messy place; only some dirty laundry laying about, but nothing too disgusting. So, really, he isn’t expecting to find anything once he drops to his knees and looks under the bed. Nothing beyond dust and perhaps the missing sock he’s yet to find.

Certainly not a shoebox.

settle down with me by the fire of my yearning

(fleet foxes, ragged wood)

sansa x gendry, promptfill for @asoiafrarepairs rare pair weekend, 7k

read on AO3

Petyr Baelish steals away Sansa Stark in the dead of night. When she reaches the ship, she finds a man with a fire in his blue eyes, even as his wrists are bound. They both have secrets, but it doesn’t stop them from reaching for each other.

Or, four years where Alayne Stone lives with all the freedom she can give herself, with all the love and laughter she deserves, and it changes very little, in the grand scheme of things. But for her, it changes everything.

Fandom: AsoIaF/Game of Thrones Word Count: ~800 Characters/Pairing: Cat/Tywin, past Cat/Ned, Tywin/Joanna Rating: Explicit Spoilers: Up to ASoS/s3 of GoT (on the safe side) Warnings: Dubious consent, implied/referenced character death Notes: Written for the asoiaf rarepair prompt: Catelyn Stark/Tywin Lannister, post Ned/Joanna deaths: There’s something about being with someone who understands grief as well as they both do. Summary: "Would you kill me if you could?"

Or, Catelyn Stark and Tywin Lannister find common ground, in bed.