an oc-centric fic-verse | canon divergence, forbidden love, slow burn | cross-posted on ao3 and wattpad | containing mature themes (smut, major character death, graphic depictions of violence)
oc masterlists: main characters | side characters | historical | house brightflame (au)
reading order: part one | part two | part three (tba)
links: ao3 | wattpad | pinterest | spotify
𝐤𝐞𝐲: completed ✔ on-going ⟳ | general 🌱 teen 🌻 mature 🍂 explicit 🍄
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲
book one: meet me in the dark, kiss me in the moonlight ✔ 🌻
book two: a heart so golden, a sun so bright ✔ 🍂
book three: house of lies, city of blood ✔ 🍄
book four: wicked are these woods, haunted is this memory ⟳ 🍄
𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞
faithful (hotd) ✔ 🍂
a funny thing happened on the way to ashford (akotsk) ✔ 🍄
𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬
as if struck by lightning (mating bond au, cerelle/benjiamin) ✔ 🍄
dulled senses (omegaverse, cerelle/balon) ✔ 🍄
he screams, sometimes (modern, cerelle/henrix) ✔ 🍂
in the shadow of her willow (hades and persephone, jon/cerelle) ⟳ 🌻
modern!holiday au (jon/cerelle) ⟳ 🍄
pour it in a cup (post!season 8, arranged marriage, jon/cerelle) ✔ 🍂
redder the cloak (little red riding hood au, jon/cerelle) ✔ 🍄
sapphire steel (rhaegar won the trident, jon/cerelle) ⟳ 🍄
the root of all evil (masc!cerelle/balon swann) ⟳ 🍄
𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬
asoiaf x reader masterlist
asoiaf oc week 2025
oc intro series | fanfic moodboard series | houses of westeros series
✶⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐘𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐍; officially the youngest child of lord benjiamin vypren and princess cerelle targaryen, her similarities to her parents' close friend, henrix, have caused plenty of rumours. sweet and open-minded on first glance, cerise's fascination with magic and the occult never fail to unsettle a visitor to high anura.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★. . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚
the youngest benellrix child from my crossover queen rhaena au with @robnikmeria and @goldsnows 🫶
✶⋆.˚ 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐘𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐍; officially the eldest son of lord benjiamin vypren and princess cerelle targaryen, though many have remarked on his similarities to the pair's close friend, henrix. an outwardly arrogant and bold man, his name has been one of the many suggested identities of the legendary golden paladin.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★. . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚
the eldest benellrix child from the crossover queen rhaena au with @robnikmeria and @goldsnows (that we still need a name for)
also 💔💔💔 are we going to see humfreys reaction to what happened in this weeks chapter anytime soon or do i have to suffer knowing it’s coming but not WHEN for the foreseeable future
you'll have to suffer 😔 the king's landing plot is going to be a very short part of wicked are these woods, and humfrey will not necessarily be close to those happenings either.
also :( not just will it take some time for US to see his reaction, it will also take some time for him to find out about lucion too
no 😔 our only settings are winterfell, castle black, king's landing, and some miscellaneous places around the north (like last hearth or Some Forest). oberyn is "chilling" in sunspear for the time being
the joy of knowing one of my theories was right vs the agony of what happened in this chapter…
Crone, do not let me walk this road alone. Lend me your light.
one of the immediate stand-out quotes to me from this weeks chapter <3 i love the way you explore religion / the faith of the seven so this caught my attention right away! love getting to see cerelle’s relationship w/ her faith
Had she not been delirious from the pain in her head and chest, she would have almost said the breath fanning across her face smelled of Lucion.
genuinely sick to my stomach over this part 😭 you’ve done such a good job at capturing the absolute horror of ramsay + the boltons but the implication that HE ATE PARTS OF LUCION was enough to make my stomach turn inside out
Benjiamin. Helena. Henrix. Jynessa. Catelyn Stark. Him she would protect. This one time, the gods would allow her to win.
🚬 this intrigues me so much though bc are we ever going to see cerelle start blaming the gods for the fate she endures? but also :(( this just made me sad given what happens at the end
“Paladin, how do you still not grasp your impact after all this time? People rise up in defiance, they dare jump across ravines, they look towards the future instead of the past all because you have shown them such possibilities exist. The mere mention of your name causes people to enter battle, to protect themselves, others, but most importantly you.” “I don’t want them to.”
probably the best summary of cerelle’s character ever imo? she’s the famed hero, the chosen one, the sunshine, the reason that people see hope in the world again but she doesn’t want to be. she doesn’t want any of this but she can’t stop it no matter how many times we see her try!
the description of what they did to lucion’s body just before cerelle put him out of his misery legit made me start tearing up 😭 the cruelty is just unbelievable but you painted such a vivid picture that i could see it so clearly in my mind !!
“When I gave you that mark, I told you may wish for whatever you want, no matter how large or miniscule it may be. However, the only rule I laid upon you was that you may never wish to return someone from the dead. That is a power man should never toy with.”
👀 this line from florian has me rlly intrigued on what’s going to happen with jon ngl especially bc he specifically notes it’s a power than men should never toy with and its the one wish he refuses !!!
it also makes me wonder if / when cerelle finds out about jon being resurrected she’s going to be angry bc the same couldn’t happen for lucion??
😭 i feel sick thinking about what else awaits her at the dreadfort but i am chomping at the bit for the jonelle reunion with all of this in mind !!!
🕊️ fly high lucion lannister
your theory manifested it... the monkey's paw curled and now we are left with this
cerelle and her faith is something i sometimes feel i need to focus on more but then also... it's just a part of her. like it guides her actions to a certain extent but then she also is her own person, capable of free will. the faith of the seven, despite the fact i've made them real for stars above, is mostly a guiding religion. they're there to help people make their own decisions, and i feel that really shows with cerelle.
well, i mean. it's ramsay. he will do everything and anything to torture his victims, and if it's cutting off pieces of their flesh and eating it right before them/drinking their blood as if it were wine... and because we were just talking about the gods - have you considered the lucion cerelle smelled on ramsay was already several days old? stranger's blessing and all, it's much more likely she sensed the decay and not actually directly him
cerelle is certainly going to have a small arc of confronting the gods/fate/the universe for everything that has happened to her. but when and how that will happen... well, who's to say
cerelle is so desperate to keep everyone safe, she cannot fathom letting someone else shoulder even a small part of the burden. yes, she only wants what's best for everyone, but that's her job. and this is not even meant in a "only i can do this correctly" sort of way, but more of a "i cannot allow anyone else to risk themselves" way. but the one thing that truly sends her spiralling is the notion someone would voluntarily put themselves into danger for her. she has gone so much of her life feeling alone and abandoned, so finding out someone would swear themself to her unconditionally feels strange and uncomfortable. why would she believe them now, after all this time?
sorry :( i did say that this book was going to go graphic, but i felt i needed to show the full extent of what lucion suffered through to spare cerelle... also to prove that yeah, cerelle killing him was absolutely necessary. if i hadn't described it so clearly, it wouldn't have had the same impact
the whole resurrection business is definitely something that's going to become a theme going forward... death, life, rebirth... esp with the white walkers and the priests of r'hllor coming into the picture in book six. "how much does death change you" will be so important, and we're going to start seeing it with jon in this book already
well 👀 you'll have to wait and see about cerelle's reaction. not just to the recurrection but jon as he is now as well
i feel this is a good as time as any to let everyone know that every sexuality/gender i show in the pride month series is actual canon to main-line stars above 🫶 so elia's aroace, constance's a demigirl, roan's gay etc etc
summary: cerelle makes one last, desperate attempt to save lucion
word count: 3.859
warnings: blood, wounds, injury, effects of torture, implied SA, death
tag list: @nightcat101 @the-maesters-chronicles
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Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.
Three nights she had now spent pressed against the wall furthest away from Lucion’s cell, hands clasped tightly over her ears, and yet she still heard everything. Every scream, every sob, every choked down beg, every glide of a knife over his skin, every small bit of bone being splintered off and piercing his flesh. Yet the one sound rising far above it all was the laughter.
Crone, do not let me walk this road alone. Lend me your light.
Once, she awaited him by the bars of her prison, clutching the biting steel as if it could give way if only she hoped enough. There were tears in her eyes.
How idiotic of her to show such weakness, as if she were a small child begging for attention.
“Take me instead of him. Please.” Gods, how pathetic she must look. “He is innocent.”
Ramsay tutted, shaking his head and playfully frowning as he did so. “And yet, he killed a multitude of my men. Good men at that.”
“Only to protect me. Please, what more could you want from me but this direct permission?”
That was when he stepped closer, head lowering itself to better study her face, her eyes, the tremble of her lips. Had she not been delirious from the pain in her head and chest, she would have almost said the breath fanning across her face smelled of Lucion. Fingers began ghosting over her cheek, tracing the lines of her scars, and despite every instinct inside her commanding her to flee, to never let him touch her skin ever again, she endured. For Lucion.
“You truly would let me do anything to you.”
Not a question. As such, she did not respond, even if she knew what her answer would have been. It terrified her.
The smile on his lips as he stepped back from her could have been considered soothing on any other man. “I will keep it in mind.”
She almost sobbed as he simply walked away.
In what Cerelle considered to be the afternoon - based on how long the sun had already shone through the tiny window - she crawled towards the writhing presence at the back of her mind.
(Crawled, as there was no other word to describe what she was doing.)
She clawed at the corner of the wall that was furthest away from the gate, tearing, pulling, pushing, breaking several nails and ripping the skin beneath until one of the stones finally budged. Its edges buried themselves into the freshly open flesh, dirt and soot burning as they her blood stream, but then she finally closed her fingers around it and pulled it out of its hold. The hole was small, barely big enough to fit a flat hand through.
“Lucion?” Her voice was so soft, raw from her screams. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing for what felt like an eternity.
Something heavy dragged across the floor. A cough. A raspy breath.
“Paladin?”
She sobbed; loud enough for the guard to surely hear, and once she had realised the sound had left her mouth she hurriedly laid her hand over it. Yet somehow, she could not feel all too terrible about her reaction. Her mind raced back to everything she had wanted to say to him - how are you, I’ll get you out of here, he’ll pay for what he did - yet all that passed her lips was a whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“You are- not at fault for this.”
“I am! I allowed you to come north with me, I allowed you to stay, I allowed you to risk your life for my mistake.” She buried her nails - or what was left of them - into the palm of her hands to prevent the tears from flowing. “You are suffering only because they are not allowed to touch me.”
Her mind, inadvertently, returned to the stranger she had met in the Sept of Baelor weeks ago, and what she had told him then.
He is below me in station. Were this secret to come out, he would be punished to save my face and protect my reputation. It doesn't matter who initiated, whose idea it was, who went through with it - he is easy to accuse and has no allies that would believe him. He is expendable. I am not.
Was this right here so different? Lucion was her cousin, yes, and he carried the Lannister name, yet neither he nor his parents held any power of their own. He was no one of significance, and were his flayed body be hung above the gates of Winterfell, there were a mere three people who would break apart at the sight of it.
Benjiamin. Helena. Henrix. Jynessa. Catelyn Stark. Him she would protect. This one time, the gods would allow her to win.
Lucion took in a sharp breath, whinced. “If I suffer so you are spared, then that is a worthy sacrifice. I am your sworn sword, remember?”
Oh, how could she not?
“Sword, not shield.” She sniffled, pressing the backs of her hands against her eyes to prevent the tears from marking her skin for all eternity. “You ought to be by my side in war, not-”
“Paladin.” Her head turned towards his voice, gaze searching mindlessly for a small crack in the cold stones that would have allowed her to see his face. But there was nothing, just darkness. “Paladin, how do you still not grasp your impact after all this time? People rise up in defiance, they dare jump across ravines, they look towards the future instead of the past all because you have shown them such possibilities exist. The mere mention of your name causes people to enter battle, to protect themselves, others, but most importantly you.”
For a singular moment, she failed to see her breath in the air before her. Then her lip trembled. “I don’t want them to.”
“You cannot control other people’s actions. Only your own.”
She reached her hand through the small hole in the wall she had created. Moments passed, and then something cold touched her skin.
What she bumped against felt strange; not round or pointed or flesh and nail in equal amounts, the way one would expect a finger to feel. It was also quite short, especially considering how long Lucion’s fingers ought to…
A memory appeared in her mind - the man in the kennel, and his hand, curled inwards.
Another sob.
She ought to really curb this habit. What would her family think of her?
When Ramsay came in the night, they still held each other’s hands.
The Bolton watched her from the darkness and she stared back. Only when Lucion got ripped away from her and a no got torn from her throat did their eye contact break.
Her cousin was dragged along the hallway past her cell by four guards and she didn’t know whether the darkness cloaking his body from her sight was a good thing or not. She jumped up, ran to the gate, clutched the iron bars tightly within her hands, and shouted, “Where are you taking him?”
Ramsay, previously following the guards, looked back to her for a moment, and smiled.
Cerelle didn't know when she had started singing. Four nights had passed since Lucion had been dragged off somewhere, and she had still been able to hear his screams, but when she sang, it seemed to give her mind something else to focus on.
Would there be ever
A king such as this
The lands would they prosper
The wars to find their end
If it had to contend with remembering words and tunes and rhythms, and quickly coming up with a new song whenever the old one was about to end, it could not attempt to envision what horrors her cousin was experiencing.
A crown wrought of silver light
She came from above
Never 'ad they seen such a sight
The lyndworms
Vanquished, at last
It helped with her headaches as well. At least, she convinced herself it was so.
Love comes easy
By the blossoms of spring
Love grows easy
From the leaves of summer
Love lasts easy
With the fruits of autumn
But your love shall prove itself
In the dying of winter
When creatures fall upon me
And you wish to flee
Let the gods bare witness to all
As I beg you to, please
Stay with me
The night had been dark, her words telling of ever-more desperate pleadings for safety, when the otherwise comfortable silence around her got interrupted by… soft snoring.
She looked up from where she had been lying on the cot, her eyes straining against the darkness brought onto by the clouds hiding any semblance of the night sky, but, just faintly, she was able to make out the outline of the guard standing across from her cell. Or rather, sitting across from it, with his head having fallen to the side and resting on his left shoulder.
Curiosity got the best of her, and so she stood up on weak legs and staggered forward until she caught a glimpse of the entire hallway.
Every guard in her line of sight - seven, if she didn’t miscount - looked the same as the first. Sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, seemingly deep asleep. No sound was audible besides their breathing, so it seemed no one had taken notice of their insubordination yet.
If only one of them had sat within her reach, then she could have snatched his keys and freed herself. But her luck had run out a long time ago. Unless…
She studied the door to her cell - the lock, the bars, the hinges. And it was when she inspected that last thing and saw the weak and rusting pins only half-hazardly still keeping the door in its frame, that she realised her situation might not have been all that dire after all. Just as she had done with the underwater door in Florian’s castle, she levered the pins out of their holds, hauled the door open, and slipped through the opening.
The guard didn’t wake when she removed the key ring and dagger from his waist. She darted down the corridors, silent as the wind, and searched for any trace of Lucion inside herself.
He had to be somewhere, she needed to find him, she always knew where he was before he even-
Pain shot like lightning through her body, but then she stood in front of a wooden door, her dagger’s blade buried into the guard’s neck, his call for help nothing more than a gurgle of blood. She tried every key on the chain she stole from the first guard, the metal slippery against the blood on her fingers. When the eighth finally fit and she pushed open the door, the stale stench of death hit her with full force. Cerelle blinked, refocused, and spotted a mass lying on the ground.
“Lucion!” She fell down beside him and grabbed his shoulders to shake him awake. “Lucion, quick! I’ve found a way out for us but we need to hurry!”
He only slowly began stirring, the sluggish rise and fall of his chest almost unnoticeable.
“Paladin?” Broken, mumbled, almost interceptible.
“Yes,” she panted. “Yes, it’s me. Get up, before someone finds us!”
And then, just in that moment, the clouds made way for the full moon, allowing it to illuminate Lucion’s body, and any other sound she had wished to make got stuck in her throat.
Lucion looked like the corpse of a monster. His eyes had been removed from their sockets completely, leaving behind nothing more than dark, pitless caverns that nonetheless stared at her. His shirt and pants had been torn from him, letting her see every scar, every mark of a whip, of a belt, every infected wound left behind by teeth and claws - some animalistic, some decidedly human. Patches of skin had been removed here and there; one on his right shoulder, one on his chest, two on his stomach. His arms had been broken in three separate places, and someone had taken great care to ensure they had not healed properly. His fingers… She had felt what had happened before, yet seeing it now - seeing the ones where only one knuckle had been removed, only two, or the ones that had been ripped out of his body completely - tore her heart in two.
When she saw a thin line leading below the waistband of his smallclothes, she forced her eyes shut.
She did this. She was responsible for all of it.
The tears flowed freely, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.
“Lucion, I-”
The remnants of a hand grabbed her own. “K- Kill me.”
Cerelle ripped her eyes open to stare at him. “What? No-”
“You swore.” He coughed, and warm blood landed on her cheek. “When we crossed the Neck, do you remember-”
“I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like this. Not for-”
“You swore.” He curled towards her, pressing himself against her knees and legs and arms, reaching up a hand to paw at her chest and shoulder. “You promised.”
Her body betrayed her and closed her fingers around the hilt of the dagger.
“You don’t mean that.” She forced her hand to stay connected to the ground. “Lucion, we- We can find someone to heal you. So you can return to Humfrey.”
Her cousin took in a sharp breath, gasped for more air, and yet the smile on his bruised and swollen lips refused to disappear. “Humfrey.” The name was spoken with such softness and care. “Tell him I am sorry, would you? And that I love him.”
Cerelle shook her head. “You tell him that yourself.”
“I might. Someday, again.” His face turned towards hers. “Now fulfill your oath, Paladin.”
Cerelle sobbed, and buried the dagger into Lucion’s heart.
The tug around her own a moment later told her she had struck true.
Concerningly little blood seeped past the hilt of the blade, yet her skin still soaked it up hungrily - warm where his skin was cold, writhing where his flesh was motionless.
It took her a while to remove the dagger from the body, and when it clattered to the ground the sound tore through the room like an explosion.
She laid a hand on his cheek and pressed her lips to his forehead. The tears rolled off her skin and hit his, collected in his empty eye sockets, leaving behind no trace in their wake. Carefully, she laid him onto the ground, rightened the position of his limbs until they resembled something that could be called normalcy.
May the Stranger guide you through the darkness and into the light beyond. May your soul find rest and lead a better life behind the fold. May the scars and wounds of the material world fade into oblivion as the Seven embrace you as one.
Her fingers drew a seven pointed star into the blood and tears that had collected on his forehead. Then, she picked up the dagger, and walked away.
The first guard she encountered died by a slit throat, the second by three stabs into his lungs, the third would eventually succumb to the open wound leading directly into his liver. The next two men fell without spectacle - their hearts bleeding out onto the dirty ground. One died to the blade she had thrust through the back of his head, the seventh by breaking his neck when she pushed him down the stairs. And on it went, no end ever seeming to be in sight.
Her headache grew worse and worse, yet at the same time something awakened within her that gave her the strength to continue on. She could not name it - refused to, more like it - and yet she welcomed it either way.
The kennel had been left open, as had the pen the man was hiding in. He should have screamed the moment he had spotted her, or at the very least when she had grabbed his arm to drag him out, yet no sound ever passed his lips. At least he defended himself quite bravely, attempting to return to his cage with a fervour she hadn’t known him to be capable of.
Once inside the stables, she stared into his eyes and said, “Stay. Put.”
His own widened in pure, unfiltered terror, but he did as commanded.
Within moments she had saddled her horse and led it out of its pen - the brutes that occupied this castle at least had had the good grace not to touch the animal. She held out the reins to the man. “Get up.”
He shook his head, yet stayed rooted to the spot.
“The choice is yours. Either stay and get punished for leaving your cell, or flee. I will open the gates for you, but it’s up to you whether you take this opportunity or not. It might never arrive again.”
She heard his frantic breathing, saw the eyes that flitted between her and her horse. His gaze got stuck on her for a long, long time, before he took a step forward, closed his mangled fist around the reins, and awkwardly climbed into the saddle.
“Wait here. As soon as the gates are open, you ride.” A smile, frozen in time. “She will get you wherever you want to go.”
He was quick on a horse, she would give him that. No more than five dead guardsmen and a - probably innocent - stableboy later, and he had been swallowed by the darkness of the distant forest.
“Would you look at that.” The man in pink stood behind her, dagger in hand. “The little princess can bite.”
She pushed the gate firmly shut, and quickly ducked out of the way when he came running and thrust the blade at her.
The clouds had cleared up, the full moon burning down on them both as their dance brought them all around the courtyard, slowly filling with more and more soldiers, one after the other being shooed away by him or quickly dispatched by her. It had been a long, long time since she’d last found such enjoyment out of a dance like theirs. She didn’t giggle or laugh, but when he grinned after drawing blood, she responded in kind.
Something tugged at the back of her mind, a cry for help, but how could she have possibly paid it any mind. There was too much happening at once, too much demanding her attention - him, the voices, the soldiers, the blades, the moon, the pain, her feet, her head, her wounds, her-
The next step to the side happened a moment too late; and a moment was all he needed to slash his blade across her right eye.
She screamed. Her own dagger dropped uselessly to the ground as she clutched at her face, her hands filled with sickly sweet blood in an instant. The headache slammed into her with full force and she fell to her knees, her body uselessly trembling and spasming and trying to regain a sense of anything.
Hands against her skin, her clothing, her hair. Her fingers were ripped backward, head raised to stare at the man standing above her.
There was skin against her face, then metal. “Had I known who I was dealing with, I would have set you free long ago-”
“You will fall to your own weapons, as they all have before. And your heart will make the greatest gift of them all.”
She had never seen him unsettled, but the look on his face as he stared into her eye couldn’t have been anything else.
Someone threw her limp body over her shoulder - a protest, a fight might have been appropriate, yet the screams had taken over. And she let them. They sounded like him, and she deserved to feel his pain.
If someone cut off her head right now, it would come as a sort of relief.
Dust and dirt, ones that were kicked up when she had been thrown on the ground, settled onto her face. The blood exiting her wound had gone from a stream to a small trickle. It collected beneath her right ear and coated her hair. In front of her face laid her left hand, the sleeve having moved up to reveal Florian’s mark.
Florian. Florian. “Florian!”
She looked up, and there he was. Kneeling right in front of her, clad in a red as warm as the evening sky, the many layers protecting him from the cold wind seeping in through every crack in the wall. His hair had grown since that first time she had encountered him - splayed out on an altar amidst vines and thorns, waiting for someone to save him from eternal torture. His beard had filled out as well, and even if he wore no crown, he still looked every inch the king he was.
“Nightbreaker.”
“Florian, you have to bring him back!” She hauled herself upright as well as she could, his arms the only thing keeping her from falling face-first onto the dirty ground. “That is my wish. I wish for you to save Lucion. To bring him back to me.”
Florian’s eyes - one as black as the night, the other as bright as ice - were full of sorrow. “You know I cannot.”
“Please. It is the only thing I want.”
“And yet it is the only thing I may never give you.” His hands cupped her face. “When I gave you that mark, I told you you may wish for whatever you want, no matter how large or miniscule it may be. However, the only rule I laid upon you was that you may never wish to return someone from the dead. That is a power man should never toy with.”
“But I don’t want anything else!” The tears burned. “Please. Take my life for his if you must, but Lucion must live. I owe it to him.”
“Nightbreaker, Paladin, Princess of Peace, I beg of you, wish for another thing. Command me to free you from this tower, command me to help you marry the man of your dreams, command me to turn this winter into spring. Command it all of me, and I will give it to you.”
Her lip trembled. “I command you to revive Lucion.”
A tear escaped Florian’s blue eye. “Then the fulfillment of my debt must wait.”
She had cried enough for today, she had cried enough for an entire lifetime, and yet she still broke down in a heap of weak sobs in his lap, clutching tightly onto his elegant robe in fear he would leave her. Perhaps she should have felt terrible for dirtying such a pristine garment, but that part of her mind had fallen to the same blade as Lucion.
His thumb brushed strands of hair from her forehead. “I know what you are thinking, and all I can tell you is that it would have been too late for him either way. You did the only thing you could have, Cerelle.”
yapping about my oc playlists/answering hypothetical questions i know will never come:
yes there are spoilers in these playlists
florian's songs are all pre-70s to show he is from Not Our Time
roan has 70s/80s songs and ilsa has 00s/early 10s songs to build them seperate eras too!
i add tracks from the various got scores too. BUT roan only gets hotd tracks, ilsa only from akotsk, and my got ocs only got tracks. good? good.
the tracks are either relevant through title or the scene in which they played. that's all you get concerning hints
the songs are not in chronological order
... but sometimes the first and/or last song in each playlist hold significance (i call them "title tracks")
balon only gets songs whose album cover colours are white/black/grey and adjacent
helena and zima only got songs sung by women! haschtag fmnism
they all have at least one (1) austrian song bc it's become tradition for me
jynessa, benedict, and aegon playlists are currently in the works
as are playlists for A WHOLE BUNCH of ships
and yes indeed 🙂↕️ if you have suggestions for any of these playlists (or for ocs i haven't done one for yet), i would like to hear about them very much
as the only surviving bastard son of ramsay bolton, ryence desired one thing above all - revenge. for the death of his family, the burning of the dreadfort, the brutal way the new queen had dishounored everything the old gods held sacred. an opportunity presented itself when westeros was invited to a masqued ball celebrating crown princess nyneve's nine and tenth name day - for what greater blow could there be taken against high queen cerelle than by treating her beloved heir the way she had treated his father?
yet one mere dance was all it took for ryence's plans to fall apart at the seams. kind, proud, so assured of herself, and yet still with a spark in her eyes that promised little but doom... something inside him shifted when nyneve let go of his hand to turn towards her next suitor, and he realised he could never kill her. no - he needed to have her. no matter the cost.
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from the au periwinkle with the amazing @goldsnows
