addi .

ᨳଓ

[lovethornn]

ADDI ⋆⟢ mar 19. she/her. gulf coast, usa based. pink sister. living for the hope (& whimsy) of it all. cersei lannister kisser. jaime lannister reincarnate. shawn hatosy's whimpering audio survivor. part-time lover. full-time tortured poet. pinterest + ao3 obsessed. written by taylor swift. directed by greta gerwig.

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© lovethornn 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate, or use any of my work in/for ai.

[sergwaynez]

dancing! even if one's partner is barely tolerable.

you're drunk and in the fuzzy warmth of the hall, gwayne hightower is all you can see. its just a shame that in all your attempts of courting him, he has been nothing but respectful. maybe, its the tension between your families or maybe, just tonight with the liquid courage pulsing through your veins, you'll finally get him to crack.

ser gwayne x targ! fem! reader (daemon's younger sister), fluff!, alcohol, terrible attempts at dancing, kind of one sided enemies to lovers but also kind of not? suggestive! no timeline or canon wars, just good vibes

you're pretty sure gwayne hightower secretly despises you.

the pretty auburn- haired noble is so pleasant, its actually suspicious. you've heard the odd quip and snark but gwayne hightower is all easy grins and a charmful demeanour. and unfortunately for you, in a gathering such as tonight, it makes him all the more popular with the ladies.

"that is your fourth cup," your brother daemon speaks from your side and you hardly take your eyes off the knight. you watch him roam around the room, floating between guests and his low laughter bounces off the corners of your brain, the vibration buzzing and echoing and its either that or the wine but you're sure it'll leave you with a dangerous headache soon.

"really," you mumble off-handedly, swatting his chest to create some distance between the two of you.

"really," he nods and pays you no mind, he tries to take the goblet from your hand but your grip is tightened around it, the bone of your knuckles threatening to break through your skin. "give it here, stupid girl." he moans and you swing the rest of it down, thrusting the empty cup in his direction with an insane grin plastered on your face.

"what is so special about that boy anyways?" he huffs, eyes darting across the room to where your vision has frozen in place. "he's most likely still hung up when i unseated him from that horse of his long ago."

"it could also be our damn brother marrying his sister," you sigh, "that itself is," you pause, sickness filling your stomach, "loaded." there's silence between the two of you as you stand in the shadows, the beat of music looming over you and the party continues. daemon replaces your cup with one filled with water but you make no move to consume it; how could you when every cell in your body has stretched and expanded beyond normal to fit in thoughts of gwayne hightower.

"daemon," you whisper, "he's just so pretty." your slurred confession is almost pathetic and your brother breaks the intense staring competition to place a hand on your shoulder in awkward reassurance. "like a deer," and your eyes shine an alarming amount, streaks of moonlight glittering across your iris. god, you are a goner.

"not that pretty," he scoffs, "you are prettier."

"you say that because we share the same mother," you roll your eyes and nudge his shoulder. the compliment from him is born from his distaste of the hightowers and maybe a twinge of fondness for you as he ruffles your hair in return.

"true, but you do have such foul taste in men. of all possible sorts, a hightower?" his brows raise incredulously, "really, is there no other man in this realm?"

"no, not for me," you shake your head in a daze, everythings starting to appear fuzzier, softer but you can still make out the small smile painted across his pink lips so clearly. you wonder what itd be like to touch them up close, to feel them against your own, on your bare skin, on your sheets, just anywhere for you.

"oh no," he groans in desperation, "i beg you to find some sanity, even just a shred of it. no, in fact, find some dignity and if you truly must then bed him and be done with it," its mortifying in a sense for him to say this to you, his younger sister but you are in dire need of saving yourself before ypu melt entirely defenseless to this one-sided love.

"you cannot just bed a man like gwayne hightower!" you hiss quietly in annoyance, "look at him," your eyes dart to his direction once more, "no, it will not do. i must marry him," you declare and daemon snorts out, the cackle leaving his lips in a proud twist and he turns to you.

"you have gone mad, dear sister, truly mad," maybe not mad, but definitely drunk, he gathers. but you can't focus on him. not when you've caught the eye of the pretty red-head and you have never been so grateful to have such an annoying brother. you wave, fingers dancing in a slight tease and you watch as his brows knit together in a small scrunch. he then turns his attention back to the kingsguard as if it had never happened. as if he hadn't just knocked on your heart, entered and laid to rest before slicing you inside out.

oh.

"he definitely hates me," your lip wobbles with each word, eyes glassy with dejection and pure heartbreak. daemon looks at you horrified, unsure of what to do with you in this emotional and heightened state.

"come sister," he tries to usher you away from the table and in the direction of the hallway, "we can always let caraxes have her fun, hmm?"

"you'd hurt him?" your eyes widen comically and daemon can make out the heavy breaths heaving from your chest with great concern. oh god, he's just making things worse for himself.

"send me to the seven hells, no! no, of course not," he drawls, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and trying to keep you moving, "maybe just a little," he murmurs but you catch it and push off of him instantly.

"but i love him," you gasp, and daemon sighs. its like having a child, truly.

"love who?" comes the voice of alicent hightower and the two of you turn. daemon shakes his head at the sight of her brother making his way over and landing inches away from the two of you.

"you," you whisper to him and its a moment too soon before daemon can smother your lips with the heavy weight of his palm.

"me?" gwayne speaks with great confusion, he has no recollection of whats been said before thankfully but his sister sends you a knowing look, a mischievious glint in her eyes as she smiles. you've always thought of alicent as oddly sisterly. she's been kind to you when others have not, she's given you chances when others have paired you with your chaotic brother and some part of her wishes that the two of you couldve been greater friends despite the fate that had been forced upon her.

gwayne looks to his sister, hoping for some explanation and almost misses how you bite down on daemon's palm. the elder pulling back with a curse and a wince as you shoot him your most dazzling smile. its earth bending, soul shattering downright gorgeous the way you look in your black beaded gown; a princess of the night and defender of the realm that gwayne allows himself the mercy of letting his gaze linger longer than it needs to.

"hello, you," the excitement is gathered in your voice and gwayne's eyes narrow in. theres a softness in your shoulders, the relaxed state of your posture, the wind in your hair and the wildness in your features.

"are you drunk?" alicent beats him to the question and he inhales slowly, exhaling slower trying to gather restraint and patience. sober you he has been able to handle. he approaches you with nothing more than polite kindness. he knows the way your soul seeks him out in every room he walks, he knows you ask after him, how you wait at the gates anytime he is planned to return to kingslanding and hes very fond of you.

he also knows the family you come from. the cruelty, the power, the damn dragons that give you the ego boost to demand what you have and take what you must no matter the expense. he despises your brothers particularly and though he tries to be fair to you, he knows its easier to create the distance. to be noble gwayne and play his part in this deathly game.

but drunk you? the adrenaline rushing through your body and mind, no gwayne doesn't know how to handle drunk you when he just about keeps hold of his facade of barely tolerating sober you.

"unwell," daemon corrects her without a second glance, "she is unwell and i was just escorting the princess to her chambers, she is rather tired," daemon stresses, keenly aware of how you're minutes away from embarassing yourself and him by extension silly.

you hold up four fingers cheekily and scrunch your nose in delight, "four cups!" you cheer and alicent lets out a laugh.

"is that all?" she grins, taking in your amusement.

"is that all?" daemon scoffs, "anymore and you will find her at the bottom of the barrell," that instantly has you shaking your head in defiance.

"you will find me on the dance floor!" your eyes widen with pure joy and childish excitement, buzzing through each of your veins and you break free from daemon's hold in the direction of the main party again.

you probably make it two steps ahead before a certain knight blocks your path, "princess," his hand is held up, palm outwards, a silent request for yours to join him and you do. he brings your hand to his lips and the second he presses a soft fleeting kiss you are airborn. its only a greeting but you float, rising and lifting and lord can nothing bring you down. its a manifestation of your earlier thoughts and you are purely giddy.

"ser gwayne," you swoon and its the first of a teasing smile you're met with. youre sure hes reserved this just for you.

"oh fuck me," you brother moans, palms smacking against his face in pure embarrassment but gwayne ignores him entirely, his gaze fixed on solely you.

"are you well?" he murmurs just for your eyes, pure honesty and earnest and you somehow melt even more.

the air softens around you and you're not sure your knees are working, everything feels so light and like heaven. "i dunno," you are stunned, your response incomprehensible as you focus on the invisible print of where his lips have scorched your skin. he lets go of your hand and yours drops to your side. no force or willpower to hold it open, no you are molten.

"might i escort you back to your chambers? perhaps for some rest?" he's hopeful. he catches daemon's deathly stare from behind your back, boring holes straight into him and for a second he's nervous. however, he can sense the hesitation of daemon and the need to get you to safety in this state. youre unguarded and though gwayne would never let anything happen to you now or never, it seems wiser to let you sleep this state off. roaming drunk is not ladylike and he doubts you care too much of what the other noblefolk think, he for sure knows that you are out of control with your actions as you usually like to be and that? that unnerves him incredibly.

"i am perfectly able to do so," daemon cuts in but you pat your brother's chest, cutting off his sentence halfway with a mischievous grin.

"no, ser gwayne will," you order, you clap your hands in delight and press a lazy kiss to your brothers cheek and then one to alicent. "goodnight brother, goodnight alicent, i shall see you both in the morrow," you throw out your arm for gwayne to take and he chuckles at how overly confident you appear before him now. how miliseconds have hardly passed and you stand with great eagerness before him. its a downright straight ego boost and soar to his chest.

sober you is usually more refined, more subtle and reserved for only the right people. gwayne's not spent much time in kingslanding to meet your close aquaintance but theres some things he can gather from afar. like the way you hold yourself with a rare gentleness from a targaryen he's sure its because of you that halaena has grown to be so fond. you take pride in the way you dress and carry yourself, you are friendly with the animals. you tend to the gardens and so often he finds you in the company of the cooks. yet you are still strategic when helping stage coups and plan attacks, you listen attentively to the working folk and despite what you come from, gwayne is intrigued by who you've become.

you hold yourself looser now, slightly leaning into his side as he carries most of your weight. its evident in the slower steps he takes, the silence he finds himself in in an attempt to catch the slow rise and fall of your breaths. he wishes the two of you were so much more than your last names because all he can see is how perfect you fit at his side. he must do a terrible job at conveying it because you stop so abruptly that his body moves in great whiplash, attending to you immediately.

"is something the matter, your grace?" unlike you, he hasn't drank the slightest drop and is so acutely aware of his environment his senses have heightened. your stance surprises him as he takes you, your fists have balled at your sides with an impatience and theres hurt scrunched across all over your face. a sudden flush of dread works it way into his throat.

"yes, i think you detest me, ser gwayne hightower," and his stomach does somersaults with the way his name slips from your lips. he stutters, trying to catch his breath and mind from moving at a million miles per hour.

"detest? my, oh my, that is a strong accusation," he tries to land it in light-heartedness, the chances are you'll most likely not even remember this tomorrow but the betrayal lingering in the lines of your face has him inhaling slowly, choosing his next words carefully. he opts for a simple truth, "i do not hate you," he speaks plainly, brows jumping with each word.

"no?" you question, the bottom of your lip rests into a little pout and gwayne's eyes move like a laser, narrowing in on it.

"no," he confirms with a steadfast heart, "come," and he holds out his arm again, "let us continue."

"no," you refuse and gwayne wonders which of his sins must be in need of divine punishment right now for this to be happening. his hand drags across his face and tries to think of his next course of plans.

"okay," he shrugs, "what would you like to do?" and he watches how you light up with pure ecstasy. your arms raise in the air and he watches how you hurl your body in a poor attempt at a twirl. the drunken spin has your left foot landing wrong, catching onto the seams of your gown and you feel the world falling back.

the scream dies in your throat when youre surrounded by such intense heat. gwayne hightower is warm all over, his arms have caught you just in time, your head neatly tucked against his chest as his arms span the length of your back and waist. its almost intimate the way you can hear his heartbeat, it bounces and jumps and you'll play it as a soundtrack to your life if you could. you bring your own hands to rest onto his chest, the crisp velvet sliding against your skin as you look up.

it must be the biggest mistake of your life to look up because as soon as you do you're sucked straight in. its like the ocean has swallowed you whole, and in the midst of its vastness you can hear the quiet, you can feel the serenity and calmness hit you so gently.

"princess," his voice tries to pull you from its trance, and the throated rasp cuts you free.

"gwayne?" you whisper, and the rest of his features appear back into focus. the small freckles dancing along his skin almost disappear the way the moonlight streaks before him. the bridge of his nose, the way it slopes so perfectly, gwayne hightower must have been made and born of pure precision and patience.

you're not thinking and he's momentarily distracted by the way you've dropped his title, saving the way you've said his name into pure permanent memory. so you reach out, your cold index finger touch his nose and he freezes beneath your touch. your finger then drags, following the path of his nose and down to his lips, they pause on his bottom lip momentarily before continuing its course down to his chin and then the length of his neck. you can feel his adam's apple tense as he swallows under such intensity and then they rest teasingly on the junction where his two clavicles could meet. the small amount of skin escaped from his tunic and burned into memory.

"princess," he murmurs, trying to gather his footing and he's still holding you so tightly he's realised. "this is not proper," he manages to get out and a slow smile reaches your lips. you've done it, you've broken gwayne hightower and it has only took four cups of wine to do so.

"i wonder what five would get me," you want to touch his hair next, feel the copper strands beneath your fingers and tug on them, feel how they would be burrowed against your skin or what noises he would make if you pulled them right. you don't reach out though however, your hands travel lower to his abdomen, pushing yourself more upright and steady on your feet but gwayne tenses at the contact.

"sweetheart?" he breathes in confusion, he has no idea what you're on about or whats even happening but youre set alight. this is new. you love the way this one sounds, you want to brand it to your forehead and let the term of endearment be the only thing he's ever allowed to call you by. you stand on your own, centimetres from him and try to dust the nonexistenr fluff off your gown and even just moving has you slightly dizzy. you try to reach for a railing but gwayne's hands move quicker and he's steadying your weight once more.

"i don't think you should move so suddenly," he warns, "you need to rest, sleep this haze off."

"i'd like to dance," he watches as your face morphs into something so fierecly determined and for a second, he's almost scared. it doesn't last very long however because a boyish laugh quietly escapes his lips at the sight of you.

youve taken a step back and your eyes are closed, your swaying so slowly and way off beat for this to be considered a dance. you imagine your partner to be there, leaving the gap empty for a body as your hands play with the air, mumbling along to the faint tune you can hear but its all so unrhythmic that gwayne almost feels sorry for you. you're going to make yourself dizzy and sick, you'll probably fall into a bush soon and gwayne decides to put his title as protector into action.

"you are," he breathes, and he steps into the gaps, his hand at your waist and the other taking charge of your outstretched one. your palms are interlocked as he moves you to a more practised rhythm. gwayne may be a knight and soldier but hes a man of nobility, a member of the court and he'd be damned if he didn't how to dance.

"mad?" you offer, opening your eyes to steal a peek at him. its so natural how your bodies align together, fit and move as one. its fluid and light, you can hardly feel your feet on the ground.

but gwayne certainly can, you've stepped on his toes twice, lopsided and lazy footing that he finds endearing, "wonderful," he corrects you with a unguarded softness, "you are wonderful," and you swoon once more.

"keep your eyes open," he whispers and you obey, and when he spins you he does it at such an incredibly slow pace in fear of you falling and your nausea rising. you're having so much fun with him right now that you don't realise you've been dancing with the knight for the length of minutes; so long that he has walked or rather cleverly danced the two of you back to your chamber.

truth be told he doesn't actually know which is yours. he ends the dance with a final spin, before holding onto the two of your hands and kneeling into a bow. he presses a kiss to each of them, so gentle that when you shoot him another smile it goes straight to his head. hes unsure of how hes still alive right now, he swells with pride at having earned so many of them tonight they ought to declare him a champion.

"thank you ser gwayne," you mumble, your hand ready at the knob of your door.

"just gwayne," he smiles and the world tilts its axis. "and if you ever find yourself in need of a dance partner then i am at your service," he drawls and a giggle escapes your lips as you open the door then lean your head against the frame tiredly. you are exhausted and want nothing more to go to bed, you also just want to stare at gwayne all night long.

"even if your partner is barely tolerable," your voice is slurred not from the wine but the fatigue now and gwayne steps forward by an inch. but an inch is all you need to feel the sheer heat radiating from his body and heart again.

"i told you," he uses a finger to trace your cheek now so tenderly it shatters all the walls youve ever built in your heart and laid entry for gwayne and gwayne only, "you are wonderful."

"wonderful," you whisper and there's moons in your eyes again.

"goodnight, sweetheart," he pulls back, clearing his throat. he sees the gears in your head turning and a faint furrow in your brow but before he can even ask what is the matter, youve stepped forward in an ambush, wrapped your arms around him in a bone crushing hug.

and to finally finish him off and send him to heaven, you aim to kiss his cheek. its lazy, off target and lands in the corner of his mouth. before he can register whats happened youre off him in an instant and the door closes.

"w-what?" he whispers to the dead of the night, his fingers come find the place where your lips met his if you can even call it that and its slightly wet. he has half a mind to knock the door down, break it with his bare hands and steal a proper one. however, you are drunk. beyond so and you need to rest.

he could bring this up tomorrow to you but theres a strong possibility that youd either not remember or would be mortified at the memory and avoid him entirely. the latter would devastate him for centeries.

hes still standing at your door, burning holes inside of it that he doesn't know how much time passes. a young jaecarys passes by and stops.

"ser gwayne?" he calls out and the elder is undeterred, his gaze still stuck on where you had once been before him that he doesnt register the onyx curls before theyre completely blocking his view.

"yes?" the trance is broken.

"what are you doing here?" jace speaks, suspicion laced in his tone.

"dancing," he mumbles, "i was dancing," he nods to himself and then lets out one last longing exhale before making a move to the opposite direction. the distance between the two of you burns as it grows but gwayne forces himself to keep moving. and despite the man not having a single drop of alcohol tonight, gwayne feels the buzz in his blood.

"drunk," jace mutters and continues his footsteps.

yeah, he is.

except he's drunk on you.

[sergwaynez]

my love, mine. all mine.

you don't agree with the way ormund berates daeron. after a small disagreement with your husband over this, gwayne finds himself at the end of some silent treatment. but it's not just your son daeron you're worried about, it's the little one in your tummy that gwayne is yet to discover.

husband! gwayne x wife! pregnant! reader, parent! reader & gwayne x daeron. (love this boy sm- he's fab & needs to be protected.) fluff! slight angst! comfort fic! pregnancy! mentions of difficult getting pregnant. mentions of violence off screen (my guy gwayne would knock ts out of ormund i just know it)

"you are upset."

he does not need to be loud to be heard in the library. the whistle of the wind carries his declaration with a profound softness till it reaches your ears and yet, it's not enough to lift your gaze from the book your eyes are militantly trained to uphold. he's sure you're going to set that book alight with the intensity of your stare.

"i am not." right, or perhaps rather with the flame of your curt replies.

"then you are quiet."

"you would rather me be quiet than be bitten with my anger right now, husband."

"i would not, my love," he takes a seat next to yours on the table, his hands gripping the edge of your wooden chair with an effortless ease to tug you closer. when hes successfully minimised the distance, his hands hook under your knees and bring your legs across his lap. in turn, your body just shifts in his direction, the blanket perched across your abdomen shifts slightly and he tries not to focus on the way you pull it back with instinctious ease, "bite me, dearest," he whispers tenderly, fingers tracing in soft lines up your calves "i can take it."

your head shakes in defiance, a petty silence shifting between the two of you and gwayne almost smiles at your stubbornness. almost. but he doesn't, he knows it'll rattle you further and thats the last thing he'd rather do right now. he'd rather die, if that's an option.

his trailing touch is too welcome of a distraction and you stare hard at the little map of your skin he's following and knows all too well. you refuse to bend, you need time to sit in this heat to brace yourself, to find the right words to say and the best way to say them.

but gwayne would take all your words no matter bark or bite, with sense or without, just anything is better than this weighted silence between you. so he struggles a little, one hand stays firmly wrapped around your leg as the other tries to engage in a small game of tug and war as he wiggles the book from your grasp. he ignores your grumbles and successfully lays it flat at the far edge of the table, furthest from your reach. his slender finger reaches out and tilts your chin up to him, brows raised with that patient fondness and he just waits.

all he has to do now is wait, and it doesn't take long at all because one look to gwayne and all your thoughts tangle on your tongue and slip so messily.

"if you cannot tell me what has happened then tell me who," he murmurs, sterness laced into his features, "give me a name, darling that is all i need."

"ormund," you finally break and its bitter on your tongue. you feel your husband tense instantly, the beat of his heart slowing to a halt and he lets out a long exhale.

"of course it is him, what has he done now?" he rolls his eyes but there's a fierceness still harbouring. ormund has been a constant topic of conversation during your years of marriage and raising daeron, the same circle you find yourself trapped in where ormund pushes too hard. he mistakes the gentleness and kindness the two of you have brought daeron up to value as weakness and it irks you to the bone.

"i don't like the way he speaks to him gwayne, he's frightening the poor child," you exasperate and gwayne's listening but he's watching more with concern on the way your hands are flying around with great agitation. "filling him with notions of being king and getting angry with small inconsistencies in history and i'm sorry," you bite out, "having been beaten by a child in a game? and you're in a fit?" the shock and disgust is laced in your tone and you're far into your rant that you look over at your lover and seethe, "seven hells, gwayne would you at least look at me when i'm speaking?"

"i am looking!" his palms shoot up in defence, "and i am listening," he levels his tone, "it is not acceptable you are correct."

"of course i am correct, ormund is deranged,"

"yes, well i think his nightmarish tendencies have been festering since he first laid in his mother's womb," gwayne tries to joke, earn a giggle from you, an easy breath, a temporary truce but all he can see is a sliver of teeth breaking through from your frown. womb. he has no idea which of his words have settled on your skin, making home with the nerves and annoyance.

"is something funny gwayne?"

"my love," he starts and then stops, you've swung your legs off his lap and he misses the heat instantly. he tries to think, what could best diffuse this situation right now and bring you back to him. "i agree and i'll talk to him," he places a comforting hand on your shoulder but you're staring at him and he starts to shift under your scrutiny.

"has daeron said anything?" he feels a wave of protectiveness surge through his body. he knows ormund is harmless, but daeron is gwayne's more than anyone. he and you have raised that babe from young and when you look at daeron, sweet kind daeron, all gwayne can see is you. all the love you've ever poured into him. you and gwayne hadn't been so lucky in your marriage to be blessed with children but daeron has made up for it. he is your son and you'd be damned if anything were to ever happen to him.

"no but," and immediately gwayne sends you a look, "he doesn't need to! the maids speak and they speak of ormund's cruelty," you stress and he nods in understanding.

"you didn't need a maid i could've told you that," he shrugs his shoulders, "i will talk to him," he repeats, trying to catch your eyes, laser in on your focus and bring it to calmness.

"why do i sense a but?" you question.

"but i do think you're too soft on the boy," gwayne speaks. "he's ten and six, my love. he's incredible at his sword play and a novice in his text, i have no doubt ormund's ways are peculiar and i will raise that but he is growing, ormund may be cruel but the world will be harsher."

"he is a boy," you don't even have to shout for gwayne to feel the outrage in your tone.

"he is heir to the throne," gwayne's hand steadies on the table, his body looming over yours. he tries to reach out to you but you stand, guarded and tense. one wrong move from him and you'll shatter the brave stance he's holding up. his hands find the sides of your empty chair now instead, gripping it tensely till his knuckles break through an icy white.

"he is our boy," you voice finally breaks at the edge, you don't even let gwayne finish his sentence before youre shooting daggers and cutting at his hearts edge. "and i will not have the weight of the house's responsibilities and his brother's failures crush him whole," you try and create distance between you, heading to the windows and focusing on the way your small breaths lace the condensation on the glass. you reach out and feel the coolness against your fingertips and close your eyes, "you were not there when it's happened gwayne," you speak slowly, "he tries so hard with everyone, to be what they expect of him, he shouldn't have to with us."

there's an emptiness in the metres that hold you apart. from the silence and from the exhaustion that you know this familiar fight always brings. ormund inflicts his pain, daeron suffers, you and gwayne squabble, gwayne turns to ormund. ormund will never apologise you know this, he becomes a little softer the next weeks before he's back to his usual tirade and the damage will always be done. it'll always linger and haunt you and fail you when you catch the small slip of daeron's smile. the subtle flinch he tries to mask when the tiniest of mistakes have been made.

you think of the weight resting in your body, the heightened need for safety and it almost brings a tear to your eyes. your family is growing and you need to protect them. when you think of daeron, you think of the babe. you think of a life that could be more than just a political piece and your heart lurches, this can't go on. it takes everything in you to not reach out for the little fetus now, you find yourself often just mindlessly checking its still there. as though this could be a dream, as if something so precious could disappear so quickly.

"i know, sweetheart. i will speak to him," gwayne promises with determination, "i will make this right."

you open and eye to sneak a peek at him and see the way he looks back at you, with a longing desperation and you heave out a sigh.

"i would rather he die," you moan and gwayne snorts. its not a resolution to your disagreement but it lightens the mood for a minute. you feel his presence coming behind you and he stops short. he knows you want the space and he grants it to you.

"should i challenge him at the sword, lady hightower?" he mumbles with a tease, breath warm on your neck. and it'd be so easy for you to just give in, turn to your husband and melt back into the safety net of his love. but you're not only sick of this cycle, your heart breaking for your son and unborn child. you're also scared. so you press your forehead against the glass shaking it softly.

"i think poison should be fine," the condensation rises with a small fatigue and the lack of humour in your tone. "quicker, even. though i'm not sure he should be granted the mercy of a swift death."

you can feel the weight of his gaze shift from you to the gardens outside. the way your eyes track the different flowers in bloom and he stands quietly.

"i'd like some time alone, i think," you break the silence and gwayne pauses. you wait for him to say something, to fight you on this, fight for you on this but he clears his throat and nods tightly.

"as you wish, my heart. but rest assured, i will sort this for us. " he slowly presses a kiss to your hair and stares at you a minute more. he wants to tell you it'll all be okay, he will sort this for you and daeron, he will take charge of his household and make things right but you demand action, there's only so far that words can take him right now.

the stress pounds on the forefront of your mind. youre scared for daeron, but youre also scared for yourself. for what youre holding and what will soon be brought to life. its a heavy secret and you want nothing more than to just tell gwayne. but you've already bitten off more than you can chew for today and it settles in your bones.

you don't turn back to watch him leave, his footsteps are sound enough to know you're alone. and when there's absolute stillness do you let your back slide down the window and sink to your knees. your palms rub your eyes gently and then catch your face as you weaken for a moment. your fingers drum along your abdomen, three little knocks to say hello and you sigh, shifting the focus on your breathing. four inhales and six exhales. four inhales and six exhales. four times more before making a move to stand and continue with your day.

you know it's unfair to pin your annoyance on gwayne, your husband is your rock and ormund is the target. you just can't help but feel the tug of his words around your heart. daeron is your son, more of your son that alicent and ormund's combined and with what the future may bring, you've got to protect yours.

...

you make it your mission to be scarce today, to clear your head and simmer down the anger till it floats to a pensive sadness. you weren't hungry enough for lunch, though your defensiveness had stolen a large portion of your energy so you settled for a tea outside in the gardens. alone, save for the same book from earlier perched in your lap. except now when you hold it you can feel your husband's fingertips burn with each page.

you sigh and stretch your neck, the muscles sore from craning and sit patiently, trying to feel the breeze against your skin and listen for the small chirping from the trees above. what does catch your ear however is the small stalling of breaths and you don't need to see the flash of auburn to know who's hiding behind the pillars.

"come out, daeron," you call softly, "you need not hide from me," and the young boy emerges slowly and you make space on your bench for him to join. he attempts to greet you properly until he's met with the gentle sterness of your stare and smiles sheepishly instead.

"i haven't seen you today," he speaks to the flowers and your gaze follows. you shoot him an easy smile and let his comforting aura relax the tension in your shoulders. he leans his head on your shoulder as an invitation and you rest your head on top of his.

"forgive me sweetheart, it's been a heavy morning," he toys with your fingers and you let him stretch each one out, playing with them mindlessly. you watch him for a few minutes, fluctuating between a small frown and a cautious smile and like a sixth sense, your free hand closes on top of your joined ones. "what's the matter?" you ask so tenderly, it warms the cracks of his demeanour and allows him to melt in your ambience entirely.

"nothing," he mumbles and you click your tongue, shaking your head knowingly.

"tell me," its a soft command and it has his eyes lifting to yours with encouragement.

"did..." he starts and hesitates, your brows furrow at the stutter before he lets out a sigh and continues unwillingly, "are you upset with uncle gwayne because of me? did i make things troublesome?" you catch the stretch of glassiness swirling in his orbs and tuck him into your side firmly.

"no, my love," you rebute instantly, "and i am not upset with your uncle gwayne." you rub his shoulder comfortingly. he leans into your touch like a cat seeking refuge and looks back down to his lap.

"i heard him shout at uncle ormund," he lets it slip and your lips purse in thought, "and he hardly raises his voice."

"you shouldn't be eavesdropping my little dragon, some conversations are not meant for us," and you pour him a cup of tea, it's not as hot as it had been when you first sat down but the temperature is perfect for daeron to drink and not burn. he accepts it gingerly, the warmth of the cup welcome on his grip and he takes a sip.

"they mentioned your name," he mumbles in a slurp and you have half a mind to scold him on his table etiquette but seeing him so unguarded and carefree reaches down to the cusp of your soul and tightens.

"did they?" a small amount of interest grows at the claim and you wait for him to continue. daeron stares back at you, a mischievious grin plastered on his face as he shrugs so casually.

"i cannot say more, i shouldn't have been eavesdropping," and you nudge his shoulder playfully.

"oh come now, little prince. you cannot tease and then stop, that is just cruel," and he leans in closer, voice dropping to a murmur.

"uncle gwayne said that if he ever sees even just a wrinkle in your brow because of uncle ormund he was," and his eyes dart around carefully before whispering behind the palm of his hand, "he was going to send him to the seven hells himself." and he giggles so loud at your violent blush. you can't fight the smile that grows on your face and you shove him ever so lightly.

"you jest far too much, daeron."

"no! i swear it!" he defends and you know it to be true. "i'm sorry, aunt. i know this is because of me. uncle ormund isn't that bad, you just have to catch him at the right time and he makes me a better man. i have been difficult" and the shame that leaks off of him is so heart-rending you're overwhelmed with the urge to wrap him into your arms and hold him in safe refuge for eternity. far away from ormund, from the weight of his future and from the name that he carries.

"you shouldn't have to catch him at a right time, he should be a good role model all the time," you feel yourself getting riled again all over, "and what good is he doing making you a better man when you are the better person in all of this. everything is for you, daeron because we love you. you are not difficult in the slightest, in fact it's rather easy to love you daeron. though we do not share direct blood, you are ours, and nothing could change that " you soften. and when you catch him looking at you, its not daeron the prince in your eyes, its your daeron. the small babe alicent left you for what feels forever ago, the same child who tugged at your skirts, who ran with lemon cakes tucked at his sides away from his maestars, who cried when gwayne had first left you for battle and slept with you till the nightmares ran out of fuel.

he's your daeron more than anyone's and your heart stretches to think that the little babe sitting below your diaphragm will come to know, love and call him brother.

"i love you too," he mumbles into your side and you catch his stray tears.

"and when you love someone, you stick with them through everything."

"like you and uncle gwayne?"

"yeah," you pause, "though i don't think i could get rid of uncle gwayne even if i tried."

"he's a persistent man," daeron agrees, "but that's what is important right? he shows up, he always shows up," and the beam of admiration that lights in daeron's eyes sways you off balance. you must've been quiet for a while, listening to your heart beat pulse in your ears and your hands cradle the bottom of your stomach, the most softest of touches. soon it'll expand and you'll probably find more to moan about but at this time you marvel at how precious the life growing in you is. it's selfish you know, but you imagine a girl. with his deep sea eyes and auburn hair, or maybe they'll have your nose, the crinkles of your smile and your blended laughter.

you imagine gwayne to be just as he was with daeron. soft, patient, kind, stern when forced to be but never unjust. maybe a daughter will relax him to a new level, or stress his undoubtedly so. whatever may come, you know gwayne and you know how he loves, completely and all consuming.

he's gwayne. your gwayne. and your pregnant with his baby after what seems to be a miracle from the heavens.

"have i said something wrong?" daeron breaks the silence tentatively and you look up so suddenly, caught and unsure. you clear your throat and let go of your stomach and rest a hand on his. but daeron's quick and he's clever and he's noticed it from the first glance downwards. a small knowing grin works its way onto his face and he bites back the giggles.

"am i?" he drawls out in a tease, "to have a sibling?" and you freeze. no one other than you and the maestar knows. you had hoped gwayne would be the first to be told but after this morning, with your thoughts and emotions clouding your every move, daeron has been too quick.

"do not tell your uncle," your throat grows dry.

"uncle gwayne doesn't know?"

"no," you confirm, staring ahead.

"are you going to tell him?" and you feel his curious stare burning holes into his face.

"of course i will, silly," you blow into the air in frustration, "i was a little bit agitated at your uncle earlier," you admit and and daeron waits patiently. "he wasn't necessarily at fault but he also was not right and you know, this," you gesture down at the small bump hidden under your gown, "has occupied my mind greatly, i have not been fair."

daeron rests his head back onto your shoulder and doesn't say much more. "what?" you question, "what is it?"

"nothing."

"daeron targaryen," the sterness in your voice causes him to press his lips together in a fine line.

"you shouldn't have matters adding to your stress, its not good for the baby," and you roll your eyes.

"you are my baby-"

"i am a grown man," he hisses in embarrassment. he watches you look around in mischief before clearing your throat and raising it to the highest level known to man. he's sure that even the neighbouring galaxies have heard your boo.

"you are my baby!" and just like he did when he was five, he hides in your hold.

"stop this," he mumbles, "i beg of you, please stop." you laugh and feel the sunshine warms your backs as you stroke his hair affectionately. "but?" comes his tiny voice, "you won't forget about me right?" and you melt.

"my love, i could never," and you press a kiss to his hair. he closes his eyes at the touch and then sighs out in relief. for the first time today you've finally had the chance to relax and it feels so blissful you never want to leave the garden. daeron makes a notion for you to pass your book over to him and let him read aloud which you do.

you correct his pronounciation, pause to assess his analytical skills and ask him questions about the text, except when you do it it doesnt feel like a test or challenge as ormund does. it feels like an interest to his thoughts, a learning curve and he is grateful for it immensely.

he makes it through a chapter before turning to you with seriousness you purse your lips in thought, "so who has to apologise then? you or uncle gwayne?"

"daeron," you roll your eyes with a huff but the child doesn't deter, "gwayne obviously," you scoff. "i am pregnant the least he could do is grant me some mercy."

"but he doesn't know you're pregnant yet," daeron counters, "i think you should just apologise and be done with it, don't let your ego ruin your happiness."

and he is true, making so much sense that it irks you. "when did you get so wise?" it lands without a bite, a fondness carrying the question.

"well if you must know then i had some really good parents," its a tease but you recognise the truth behind it, guarding that sentence as if it was gold. daeron shuffles off the bench almost bouncing away with his boyish laughter ringing in the spring breeze, unaware of how that one sentence has brought you to a flood of overwhelming tears.

if you truly did right by daeron and his upbringing, then just maybe you'll be okay with this next one. the thought definitely eases a little pressure from your mind, you can't wait for this little one to meet the rest of your family and come home.

...

gwayne finds you in your chambers, ready with a tray in his hands as he kickes open and close the door. he has a spread of your favourite foods made after finding your absence at the dinner hall. the thud of the door doesn't even so much as shift your glance from your book and he waltzes over in your direction.

"what?" you mumble and he kisses his teeth in disapproval.

"my, is that any way to treat your husband?" he grins.

"what, lord husband?" comes your immediate reply and you feel a chuckle of breath hot and heavy at your ear. you half expect his lips at your cheek but you're met with the smell of grassiness and a tickle of pollen.

"your favourite flower, for my favourite flower," he beams at the daisy gently tucked behind your ear and tangled in the tendrils of your messy hair. the humour doesn't disappear completely from his face, just settles into a quiet simmer as he crouches down for a second. the food tray abandoned to his left on the bed as he places a warm weighted hand over your knee. "i know we argued earlier but please wife, i am sorry and let us not go to bed angry with each other." he speaks with such sincerity and honesty that more than anything you're thankful he's waved the white flag of peace and you send him a small smile of appreciation.

you lean close and press your forehead to his, you nose gently knocking into his and you nod. "i am not angry," you relax into his embrace.

"no?"

"no," you repeat softly, "though i hear you've talked with ormund?"

"and who did you hear that from?" he shoots a knowing grin. he pulls apart from your hold reluctantly to play around with your tray, rearranging your food and attacking the meat with such precise motions from your cutlery. the smell of it is off putting and you shake your head childishly. you should be more cautious of the things you're eating but lord, is the nausea intense.

"darling," he raises his brow, the fork hangs in the air between you and you press your lips shut in a thin closed line. he doesn't even look disappointed, he just makes a different move with his slender fingers plucking a strawberry from a dish and holds it up instead. and when it takes you a moment longer than necessary to react, he reaches out with his free hand and uses his thumb to drag open your bottom lip, "open," he whispers, "now chew," and the bite is so sweet, you feel a buzz of delight rush through you. its the first proper thing you're able to actually stomach and hopefully keep down. "good girl," he murmurs and feeds you another. he mindlessly licks away the drip of the strawberry juice from this thumb before stealing a kiss from your lips. he tastes the sweetness, the stickiness but more dear to him, he can taste you.

a satisfied groan slips between your lips and he grins, working his way through the tray and trying to differentiate between what he thinks you would like and what you wouldn't be able to stomach right now with this wave of nausea.

"you still didn't say how you knew?"

"our son, obviously." as if there could be no possible other who would deliver the news so fresh and quick.

"god, you're so much alike, it's terrifying," he rolls his eyes playfully, "and yes, though this time it is different my love. i get the feeling it's more final, ormund will be seeing things in a different light now."

"what do you mean? how did ormund take it?" you're half expecting gwayne to list boring details, an adult discussion, talks of ruling the realm and false promises of brotherhood but the tease in his tone is alarming and now when you look at him so up close, barely inches away you see why he's awfully smug.

"gwayne!" you exclaim, taking a stand and hovering over at him. your hands find the side of his jaw, painted with the tiniest of green splotch and a few nails ran at the surface.

"who did this?" you demand and he relishes at how you fuss over at him now, the stark contrast of your earlier conversation. it's only been a few hours but in your absence it feels like years have been missed and he drinks you after a long tiresome drought. you're tender around the bruises but there's haste in how you squash his face in his hands and inspect him all over, tossing him left and right with rapid assessment. he can still feel the stickiness of the strawberries against his skin but pays it no mind.

"i told you," and he leans back onto the bed on his forearms, his biceps pulsing in his shirt. his posture is both lazy and inviting as he shrugs once more "ormund will be seeing things differently now, or rather at least he won't be sniffing those ridiculous salts for a week or so,"

"gwayne!" you gasp louder.

"give or take," and the creases at the corner of his eyes fold with pure pride.

the length of his arms reach out and tug you closer as you fall into his lap. you try and brace yourself, cautious of the weight inside you but gwayne's welcomed you with such ease and pulls you firm in his hold, "i told you," he tucks the free flowing of strands back behind your ear and into the makeshift flower hair clip. "things will be different, ormund knows his ways are unlikeable and unacceptable. that change is greatly encouraged and what matters most is daeron. his tutors will stay the same but ormund will no longer be required to test his recitations or squabble over losses at a wooden game" you hum in agreement, kissing his cheek softly. "ormund may be a fool but he's wise to not lay a hand on our boy. that is final. should they need repeating to him then he shall hear them from his casket."

"thank you-"

"it needed to be done," his voice is firm. his hands wrap around the back of your thighs and he pulls you against him till he's laying flat on the bed, your form sprawled on top of him. it's not exactly rough but it's swift and a little unexpectant that you try and brace yourself with your hands to his chest. your body still collides with his, at solid contact, a tight tangle of your limbs and then it just slips from your lips carelessly,

"gwayne- shit the baby-" and you freeze, eyes blown wide at the admission. it's too late for you to take them back, you clear your throat, try and think of what else to say, maybe a distraction?

but there's nothing distracting about the way he's looking at you now. his hold on you tightens, mouth dropping open as he takes in your words. like you, it's like someone's put his brain through slow motion, the world around him seems to fade. blurs into a streak of messiness but you stand at the core of it, so clear and so beautifully his.

"a baby?" his voice breaks, "our baby?" the heat of his gaze melts your heart and brain to mush, you feel the weakness in your limbs as he sits up. your body in tandem as he holds you in his lap. his movements are snail-like now, soft, careful. every second he pours into you fills him whole in return.

"sweetheart?" he calls out to you, the tenderness is so all-consuming on his tongue and you look at him. really look at him. inches away you can see the freckles that dance his cheeks, the lines of the age from all the years youve known and loved him, the dimple that breaks through the surface whenever he pronounces a word so distinctly even when he's not smiling. the earnest in his eyes is what brings you back home, to him and you try to establish an easy breathing pattern.

"our baby," you whisper, the tears already starting to pool at the corners of your eyes. his breath halts, your confirmation shattering any efforts he has of forming a thought and then he reaches out tentatively, eyes searching for your permission first. his hands brace each side of your body, splashed wide against your stomach and he closes his eyes.

it's an odd angle where he cranes his neck lower but he presses a careful kiss there and buries his head into your abdomen. a baby. your baby. and he feels himself lightweight and soaring, ascending to the heavens already.

in the years of your marriage, you and gwayne have tried many times for a child before. it just had never been the right time and though it was hard the two of you had slowly come to accept it. there were tears, silent struggles you carried though no blame was ever directed, and slowly but surely daeron began to fill the gaps in your and gwayne's heart and loving him was far more than you could've ever wished for.

"the maestars say it's early and i didn't want to get our hopes up, i didn't want to let you down," you admit shamefully and his heart tugs. he raises his head to lean his forehead against yours. he turns his head to side and you can feel the slope of his nose against your cheek as he murmurs so tenderly, softly for your ears alone.

"you," his breath his hot and heavy with determination. its the most outrageous thing he's ever heard and he stamps out any doubt in your mind, his words tickling the shell of your ear, "could never let me down, my love," and he returns to your lips. its slow, its gentle and poured with every ounce of intention and love he is capable of delivering. his heart has already stretched and made room for the next addition to the family and he presses that thought into your lips.

"gwayne," you manage to mumble before he's captured you again, swallowing you and your sure right now, your souls are morphing into one.

"a babe," he laughs against your lips, the delight dancing between your tongues and he scrunches his nose, dimples beaming loud. "we truly have been blessed haven't we?"

the excitement doesn't fade, it settles into something easier and lighter. into a faint sense of longing to meet the little one that is moons away from existing.

"i'm sorry," you apologise to him, "i'm sorry, i wanted to tell you earlier but i just, it's been hard carrying this secret, i've had a lot on my mind with daeron and ormund and researching on successful pregnancies and-"

he listens to you ramble and it all makes sense to him. you spending most of your days in the library, the iron grip on the books hes caught you with. your concerns about ormund, your protective affection with daeron and the understanding washes over him. he picks up your hand and places it on his heart, letting you feel the pulses beneath it and its so warm.

"my darling wife," he starts, "whatever burdens you carry are mine to deal with," his fingers trace your cheekbones, the most intimate of caresses and you lean into his touch, "whatever we do, we do it together."

"i'm scared gwayne, i'm afraid that if this babe is to be born, i don't want them to be subjected to what we have, the sacrifices we have made. i know they won't be in line for the throne like daeron, but with everything to come? i can't let anything happen to them- we can't," you stress.

"hey," he tries to shush your quiet sobbing, "i will not let anything happen to daeron, to this babe and more importantly to you, my heart. nothing will get in the way between our family, not war, not household politics, nothing," the intensity of his promise heals the wounds before they've fully bled and you believe him. gwayne hightower is not just one of the noblest but fiercest of knights, he's a man in love and loves to death. and he most certainly would die in the attempt at protecting who he loves.

"i'm serious," he presses a slow kiss to your lips, lingering in the milimetres of air as he takes his time to pull away. he keeps you in his orbit, swirling as he rotates around your being. "nothing matters more to me than your safety, our family's safety," and when he smiles its as if its the very first time you met him across the courtyard and your stomach flutters an army of butterflies.

"yes well," you muse, speaking down at your stomach, "daddy's doing a fine job of beating people up isn't he?" and he laughs, throwing his head into the nook of your neck. your body vibrates under his shaking chuckles and your laughter joins in a sweet melody, the tune of your love.

"and daddy," he throws you a mischievous look before turning his attention down to your abdomen and drums along your skin, "will fight a million more to keep you, your brother and your mother safe."

"a child," he sighs dreamily, he pulls you down to the bed so you're laying side by side. your gazes shift from the ceiling to each other and the fondness in his eyes is world altering. you're sure galaxies have been moved by the focus of his stare.

"what are you thinking of, dearest?" you ask as gwayne's interlocks your hands in a tight promise of forever and brings them to his lips, and then leaving them to rest over his chest. your voice soothes the flowing waters of his thoughts and he breathes slowly, thinking of the future and whats yet to come for your family.

"what i must have done in my past life to accumulate all these blessings, to have been blessed with you," your breath halts. you don't think you'll ever grow accustomed to gwayne's declarations and love, your ears are blessed with sweet nothings every single day, but each time it feels like the very first time all over. gwayne's easy to love, it's natural, you're so sure you were made solely to exist for each other, you can't imagine to be by anyone elses side.

"you really know how to make a girl swoon, ser hightower" you tease.

"my girl," and he makes a move closer to you, hovering over you slightly, careful. "my wife," his head dips, "my love" and just before he closes his lips over yours, you feel yourself fall entirely into the safety net of his arms and his love for the rest of his life, "mine, all mine."

///

i have rewritten this fic a million times and i am never satisfied with how it ends or how it flows but im glad to get it out of the drafts it has been consuming my mind all week. (just in time for tonights episode too!) i think when you think too long and hard about it, you're bound to never be happy with something but yeah, hope you enjoy! let me know what you think! (positive comments only i strictly take NO criticisms sorry x)

@hwaofdreams - sorry it took so long! ty for being enthusiastic about it lolll :p

[lovethornn]

⋆⟢ PURE AS THE DRIVEN SNOW

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SUMMARY. after executing lord karstark, robb stark is left feeling less than honorable and not at all like the man his father raised.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WORD COUNT. 1550.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WARNINGS. none. pure angst w comfort fluff. fem!bethrothed!reader. inspired by that one scene from challengers and tbosas song.

riverrun, and the riverlands themself, seemed to be in a rather despairing mood.

the rain never truly stopped once it begun. the gods had endless tears, flooding the rivers and ponds, orphaning tadpoles and drowning the blooming wildflowers. whether the tears were for lord karstark or robb, you could not be sure.

although, seeing as its king was in a state of grieving disbelief, you deemed the region's lingering atmosphere rather fitting.

robb tried his absolute hardest to remain of sound-mind when dealing with his kingdom's happenings. the northmen chose him as their king, to lead them into victory and out of anguish, to avenge the murder of lord eddard stark and bring the lannisters to justice. you knew robb felt that for him to be calm and cool and collected was the least he could do for his people. for his father's memory.

you didn't know lord stark long, only in passing at winterfell before he left for king's landing at the proposal of king robert baratheon. but the way his men spoke of him, you knew he must have been as honorable as the songs said.

the day that raven arrived at winterfell—bearing the news of betrayal and treason in sansa's pen and the queen's words—you saw robb's face darken. the man he looked up to most in the world was being imprisoned for treachery.

robb would not believe it. the man who raised him to be honest and true would never have betrayed his king's and closest friend's trust.

and when those lords declared him king in the north, you watched as he made himself taller, baring his shoulders with pride and accepting the crown with grace. since that day, you don't think you've ever again seen the robb you knew at winterfell.

you had a new understanding of bran's nickname for him; "robb the lord" was slowly conquering your betrothed's entire being. robb was never what you would call "relaxed", but he used to have a more easy-going way; he was sure of himself and of his place in the world, among the frosted walls of winterfell and a hearth shared with his siblings. now, robb was more stern than ever; he second-guessed every decision he came to and spent more time looking over maps and battle plans than with his own mother.

when theon greyjoy's betrayal reached robb's ears, you swore you'd never see him so angry. he'd lost three brothers to this war now: bran, who always had a quick jest when days at winterfell felt too serious, little rickon, who clung to robb the most, and theon. theon who should have known he'd always have a place at robb's side.

not the not only had this war taken his family from him, but it stole what was left of his childhood as well.

but you knew that despite all of the tragedies and hardships, your robb was kind. he was still the honest boy ned and catelyn stark raised.

but, you also knew the crown bestowed upon his brow was heavy. which was why when robb came to your room the hour after lord karstark's death, you could tell it proved more difficult for him than robb cared to let on.

you had been reading by the open balcony doors, nestled in a fur blanket, listening to the rain and the men outside yell at one another all morning. you had figured that—like most days—you wouldn't see robb until dinner that evening.

but here he was now, standing with his back facing you, arms braced against the doors and forehead pressed against the old wood. even with his layers of fur and leather, you could tell that the muscles of his shoulders were pulled tight, taut with stress and responsibility.

"robb?" you called softly, setting your book down on the small table beside you.

he sighed before turning towards the sound of your voice. he wasn't wearing that crown you were growing to hate, but his face was wearing a look of utter exhaustion. his eyes had a sort of glazed-over gleam to them that made your brows furrow.

robb didn't say a word as his fingers pulled the outermost layer of fur off his shoulders, dropping it onto a velvet chair, before making his way to you.

"robb?" you asked again, confused by his silence.

robb dropped to his knees in front of you and before you could question him again, he laid his head in your lap, letting out yet another sigh that sounded strangely contented.

your features changed from confusion to worry, a feeling you had recently began to associate with the man in front of you now. you had spent countless days thinking of ways that you could help robb and that this war could end quickly. you had even prayed to every god you knew of that your wishes would come true. but, alas, the war continued on and robb had only seemed to become more spent as time went on. you were not trained in the ways of battle strategy and tactics, so you could not help robb out in the field, but, perhaps, there was a way you could help him here.

you slowly wove your fingers in his curls, scraping your nails softly against his scalp and watched as robb's eyes shut and a small sound escaped from his throat. the northmen always say how robb is more wolf than man, and right now you could not help but agree.

you bit your lip anxiously before quietly asking, "do you wish to speak about it?"

robb's eyes opened again and he moved so his chin rested on your knee. when he looked up at you, his eyes still had that glazed-over expression you saw when he first arrived. "he disobeyed a direct order and he murdered two boys in their beds." you could see his throat bob when he swallowed and knew he was thinking of bran and rickon in place of the lannister squires. "he had to die. for those boys and for the justice i promised my men i would lead with."

"what happened to those boys was not your fault." you cupped the side of his face in your palm, softly brushing your thumb against his cheek. "lord kartark made his own decisions."

"but it was my fault," he said, eyes flicking away from your face. "i took them captive. i brought them here—to riverrun, to lord karstark, and to their deaths."

"oh, robb," you pressed your lips together, biting the inside of your cheek, "you cannot take the responsibility of every death that happens in this war—"

"a king is supposed to protect all of his people and i could not even do that in mine own castle." robb's features were slowly turning to ones of anger, and the tears welling up in his eyes all but solidified the fact. "i have lost the lannister boys, along with any use they could've had...and i have lost the karstarks."

you knew it was true. you had seen the karstark sigil slowly disappear all morning from the tents surrounding riverrun. you sighed softly, reaching for a curl in front of one of robb's eyes. "you did what you thought right. you cannot fault yourself for that and live with this guilt." robb's eyes flicked back to yours. "it will eat you away inside and spoil the heart you need to win this war."

robb leaned slightly into your palm, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "i thought i wanted it," he said softly, so soft you weren't entirely sure you had heard it. "being king is the single most greatest honor i'll ever have. i figured i was ready, that it couldn't be more different than what father had been training me for anyways." he swallowed again. "but it is a grievous task to be plagued with."

"i know, love." you wiped away a tear threatening to fall with your thumb. "i see what that band of iron has done to you, how much its taken from you." the rain had begun to fall more angrily now, beating against the windows and clouding up the sky. "but you must remember that you are of a pure soul."

robb looked down at the sound of your words, furrowing his brows and shaking his head slightly. "tis this pure soul you speak of that has ravaged my reign so. i have brought only more death and despair to this country than was before."

"and when you win this war and bring the lannisters to justice," you say, tilting his chin up with a finger, "think of all the life and happiness you will conjure."

robb's lips twitched to a small smile. "how can you be so sure i'll win?"

"because you're too stubborn not to," you laugh, "and if you don't, then i'm sure greywind will gladly finish the job."

robb chuckled softly, "he is quite determined."

you smile. "a day ago i saw him ripping up a lannister banner and growling at the scraps."

he let out a genuine laugh at that, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. "thank you."

"of course, your grace."

robb rolled his eyes before settling his head back in your lap. "husband will suffice."

© lovethornn 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate, or use any of my work in/for ai.

[driften-sea-snake]

broke: ormund dyed daeron’s hair to protect his identity

woke: ormund dyed daeron’s hair to be more like a pure hightower, rather than a “savage” valyrian

bespoke: ormund dyed daeron’s hair to make him look more like his previous grooming victim, gwayne

[lovethornn]

HEAD TO HIS TOES ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SUMMARY. character sheet—birthday, ethnicity, personality, + hobbies.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. APPEARANCE BY. modern!theon greyjoy.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WORD COUNT. 546.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WARNINGS. mentions of smoking and drinking. ramsay snow.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DOB. june 02 in kirkwall, orkney islands. scandinavian roots from both of his parents, balon and alannys.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PHYSICAL TRAITS. black hair he keeps shoulder length. dark brown eyes. strong, straight features. rbfmaxxing. smile lines. deviated septum. eyebrow piercing. looks like he's an asshole. very lean with a slight sleeper's build.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PERSONALITY. to me, theon is a meaner version of mickey from shameless. before his relationship with ramsay, he's such a dick. jon has genuinely no idea how he and robb are friends. very pretentious with his very strong accent. cares a lot about his physical appearance. cocky ass motherfucker. everything is a competition to this dude. tries soooo hard to be nonchalant and cool but he's really just a massive boyfailure. resentful and vindictive. never forgets an insult (and gotten into a lot of fights over petty shit). angry angry boy. unfortunately, has a very twisted view of the world because of his childhood, so he's very pessimistic. doesn't ever want to be seen as weak or vulnerable so he's learned to be mean and loud. after ramsay, theon is very traumatized (as one would be). he becomes very quiet and skittish. his trust issues have always been bad, but now they're at the max. very protective of himself. making amends with robb and asha is the one thing he lives for.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. HOBBIES. swimming. loves the water. any chance he gets he is booking it to the nearest body of water possible. and he hates being sweaty but has no problem grinding the day away playing archery on his wii. however, he didn't grow up doing any actual sports and instead spent his teen years smoking and drinking at parks or with other kids. taking selfies is his favorite thing to do. makes fan pages and collages of himself on insta. cuts his own layers. smoking, sleeping, and drinking monsters. shopping is a genuine joy for him (because he just steals shit). refuses to thrift or to even step into a second-hand store. has a weird obsession with slushies from gas stations and convenience stores. playing gta with robb or bar hopping with asha. robb convinced him to start journaling and at first he was very skeptical, but now he finds it very comforting. most of his entries are dumb shit he did that day or funny things he thinks about, but some of them are genuine thoughts and memories from when he was a kid. any time robb asks him about it theon says it's stupid and refuses to give any other comment except that. after ramsay, theon's journal became his most sacred possession. most of the pages are devoted to scribbled letters to his younger self and his biological family. sketches birds and bugs he finds in passing. and he writes constantly about the starks; teasing jon, snowball fights with bran and rickon, besting arya in any wii sport game—he even misses sansa's constant complaints about them being too loud while she's on the phone. with her little friends. he writes about robb the most and what he'd say to him. how much he'd apologize for what he did and how sorry he is for everything that happened. that he's a changed man and he just wants his brother back.

© lovethornn 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate, or use any of my work in/for ai.

[lovethornn]

JAMMING TO ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SUMMARY. the playlist and music happenings of the modern!starklings.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. APPEARANCES BY. robb stark, sansa stark, arya stark, + jon snow.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WORD COUNT. 341.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DEF. the SIDE A of a record includes the "hits" of an album; the go-to's and most popular tracks. SIDE B is the "flip" side; including the more unrecognized and rarely played songs.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. ROBB STARK

SIDE A—the "hit"

billy joel. bob dylan. bon iver. bruce springsteen. coldplay. david bowie. elton john. florence + the machine. hozier. joan baez. laufey. lord huron. the lumineers. the marias. the national. noah kahn. of monsters and men. the smiths. sufjan stevens. weezer.

SIDE B—the "flip"

the 1975. arctic monkeys. big theif. bruno mars. the cure. ethel cain. fleetwood mac. harry styles. imogen heap. jeff buckley. mac demarco. mumford & sons. the neighbourhood. radiohead. suki waterhouse. tv girl. tyler, the creator. queen.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SANSA STARK

SIDE A—the "hit"

beabadoobee. britney spears. chappell roan. conan gray. harry styles. justin bieber. lana del rey. liam payne. lizzy mcalpine. lorde. louis tomlinson. madison beer. niall horan. olivia rodrigo. one direction. samia. tate mcrae. taylor swift. zara larson. zayn.

SIDE B—the "flip"

adele. ariana grande. audrey hobert. aurora. the beatles. bruno mars. djo. ella langley. elvis presley. etta james. frank sinatra. katy perry. lady gaga. madonna. marvin gaye. noah kahn. olivia dean. paul mccartney. phoebe bridgers. sabrina carpenter.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. ARYA STARK

SIDE A—the "hit"

avril lavigne. the cranberries. evanescence. fiona apple. florence + the machine. flyleaf. hayley williams. kate bush. kesha. lady gaga. paramore. pierce the veil. queen. t.a.T.u.. the veronicas. wolf alice.

SIDE B—the "flip"

alanis morissette. billie eilish. blink-182. blondie. david bowie. fall out boy. fleetwood mac. foo fighters. halsey. my chemical romance. noah kahn. no doubt. panic! at the disco. radiohead. she wants revenge. stevie nicks.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. JON SNOW

SIDE A—the "hit"

the cranberries. the cure. ethel cain. fall out boy. mitski my chemical romance. nirvana. oasis. panic! at the disco. pierce the veil. radiohead. sade. slowdive. the smiths. twenty one pilots. weezer. yellowcard.

SIDE B—the "flip"

beabadoobee. big theif. blink-182. bon jovi. the clash. the goo goo dolls. green day. hozier. labrinth. laufey. lord huron. paramore. red hot chili peppers. selena. the smashing pumpkins.

© lovethornn 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate, or use any of my work in/for ai.

[lovethornn]

DAY TO DAY ⋆⟢

SUMMARY. the streetwear and wardrobe of modern!robb stark.

WORD COUNT. 300.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. robb dresses a lot like dean winchester from supernatural. very southern gothic with a splash of color (in the form of flannels).

‎ꫂ᭪݁. lots of henley tops and t-shirts he layers with flannels and a brown leather jacket. has a vintage trucker jacket with sherpa lining sansa thrifted for him he wears if his leather one is unavailable.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. jeans. so many jeans. he pairs them with brown combat or work boots.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. robb's body temp runs warm and he dresses warm. like he dresses like it's winter all year long.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. lots of neutral tones—browns, navy blue, sage green—and very little red because he doesn't like the way it looks with his hair.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. has a lot of souvenir shirts from national parks and vacations his family has taken. also really likes those national geographic shirts.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. accessories are limited. a belt is highkey the extent of his daily accessory. jewelry ruins his flow if he's in a rush or needs to put on gloves for hockey, so his wrists and hands and usually always bare.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. on the rare occasion he has enough time to put thought into jewelry though, he'll wear a small chain clipped to his jeans with a lego spider-man figure attached, a watch ned got him, and colorful weaved bracelets sansa made him.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. his loungewear is either sweatpants or one of two pairs of plaid pajama pants he has.

‎ꫂ᭪݁.‎ because he runs pretty warm, he doesn't typically sleep with a shirt on, but if it's a cold night he'll throw one on.

‎ꫂ᭪݁.‎ sleeps with the blanket tucked under his feet because he hates the feeling of socks when he's sleeping.

‎ꫂ᭪݁.‎ does fit checks with sansa most times before he goes out to make sure he doesn't look a total fool.

© lovethornn 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate, or use any of my work in/for ai.

[agentmilayawithshield]

me at 17yo mourning my boyfriend Robb Stark:

me at 19yo mourning my soulmate Daenerys Targaryen:

me at 25yo mourning my husband Baelor Targaryen:

me still 25yo, mourning my sweet boy Jacaerys Velaryon:

[ho-mad]

Aerion on getty images vs. on Instagram

[fadingfilmstill]

my mother is an idiot biggest fucking dumbo

[evphor1as]

catelyn I - agot

(working on one layer only)

[lovethornn]

NEEDY BABY, PRETTY BABY ⋆⟢

ꫂ᭪݁. SUMMARY. jon snow comes home from a gym session with robb and needs you now.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WARNINGS. NSFW. MDNI. fem!reader. unprotected piv sex (do not do that irl. wrap it before you tap it). sub!jon (if that wasn't already obvious). slight dom!reader. some dry humping. begging. teasing. praise. vaginal fingering. riding. creampie.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WORD COUNT. 1755.

needy!jon snow who comes home after an exhausting session at the gym with robb and just needs a release.

jon who, upon his arrival at your shared apartment, sets his bag down at the door and immediately searches for you.

jon had been thinking of you the whole time he was out, making himself finish his workout early and dismissing robb's offer of lunch so he could come see you.

and when he sees you sitting on the couch—looking far too beautiful for him to handle right now—lets out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

he drags his way over to you on the couch, flopping down almost directly on top of you and nuzzles into your neck. jon pulls your hips into his, searching for any source of reprieve from his ever-growing arousal.

jon glares up at you when you laugh—laugh—at his antics.

"it's not funny" he says, pouting.

"'course it's not" you say, smiling down at him with a knowing look, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. his knees are digging into the couch on either side of your thighs and one of his arms in braced against the back of the couch, keeping him upright. you think the position must be somewhat uncomfortable but jon doesn't seem to notice.

he's far too busy kissing and sucking and loving on your neck to be bothered by the small, pathetic sound that escapes him when you tug slightly on his hair, grinding up into his hips with your own.

"please," he says into your skin, grabbing one of your thighs and rutting back against your core. "fuck, baby—please."

you moan softly and tug jon up, kissing him and locking your legs around his waist. his kiss is messy and uncontrolled and between your legs you can feel how much he wants this, wants you.

jon looks mildly betrayed when you pull away from the kiss because he wasn't done kissing you. your lips are slightly red and swollen and you look so pretty right now and he just wants to kiss you again. "switch."

jon blinks. "what?"

you huff out a small laugh. "switch positions with me, love."

"oh." he says dumbly, but makes quick work of sliding off of you and to the other couch cushion, spreading his legs expectantly.

you're quick too, making yourself comfortable on his lap. now, jon usually prefers being on top, but with the way you're running your hands down his chest—and the present state of his cock—he doesn't particularly mind right now.

jon's hands make themselves home again at your hips and thighs, running his fingers under the hem of your shorts. but when he leans in to kiss you again, you put two fingers to his mouth and stop him. "tell me what you want first."

his eyebrows furrow and he's pouting again and you're smiling at him again in that teasing way and he thinks maybe you just like being mean to him. "you know what i want."

you quirk an eyebrow at him. "do i?" you lean in and jon thinks he'll finally get to kiss you again but you go to the side instead and start kissing the skin behind his ear. "tell me anyways."

jon's grip on your thigh tightens. "i want you."

your hand in his hair dips down into the neckline of his shirt, your nails scratching slightly at the skin there. "mhm," you hum. you can feel the drying sweat on his back. "to do what?"

and now he knows you just like being mean. "...want you to fuck me."

jon can feel you grin against his neck. you press one last kiss to his neck and lean back. "yeah," you say, and grind your hips down on his groin, making his breath hitch ever so sweetly and his hands shooting up to grab your hips. "i can tell."

jon's glaring up at you and is about to tell you to get on with it, but your hands run under the hem of his gym shorts and one reaches down to stroke him through his boxers.

jon's head is thrown back and his breath is getting increasingly more ragged when you feel the wet spot on the front and draw a circle through the fabric onto his leaking tip.

"stop teasing and just—fuck." he drags his head up and hopes the pleading look he gives you is enough for you to take pity on him.

you shush him softly and lean your forehead against his. "patience, my love." you take your hand away from the front of his boxers and instead rise slightly to remove your own shorts and panties.

jon groans when you seat yourself back onto his lap, bare from the waist down

"do me a favor, would you, pretty?" he's already nodding before you finish your question. you take the hand he originally had on your thigh and move it between your legs, rising again and bracing your hands on the back of the couch to make room for him.

and jon's no idiot; he gathers your slick on two of his fingers, rubbing on your clit several times, before pushing them inside.

you groan at the stretch and turn your face into his hair. he uses his other hand to rub at your clit while slowly scissoring you open.

one thing you've learned from this relationship is that jon is very good with his fingers (and even better with his mouth), so before long he's pulling his fingers out of your stretched hole and you're reaching for his cock again.

you pull him out of his boxers and stroke him several times, spreading the pre down his length. jon must think you're taking too long, though, because he uses the same fingers that were just inside you—that are still slick with your wetness—and starts stroking himself as well.

jon moans openly at the feeling of his hand and yours on his cock. "shit, baby."

you stop the movement of your hand and position yourself above him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his lips and angling his cock against your hole and slowly, you push yourself onto him.

you're moaning and jon's practically whining into the kiss as one of his arms wraps around your lower back, holding you steady, as you sink down even further.

your hands have moved to steady yourself on his shoulders by the time you've bottom out on his cock, breathing hard and clinging to jon's figure.

you lean back and jon, himself, looks...

"so pretty." you kiss his temple and caress the side of his face. jon's hair is tangled and at any other time he'd be rushing to fix it. his eyes are half-lidded and his brows furrowed as he takes slow breaths in and out. and jon usually hates being called pretty, to be reduced to his looks instead of his mind, but he doesn't even try to suppress the whine he lets out when you say it. "you're always so pretty for me."

he's holding you flush against him, head against your shoulder and mouth to the space between it and your neck. and jon's usually good at keeping his cool around you, but you can tell he's getting impatient. one of his hands has moved to grope your chest through your (his) shirt and you can feel his thighs twitching underneath you.

you lick your lips and inhale before gripping his shoulders and lifting yourself slightly off of his length before promptly dropping back down.

jon groans and swears, his other hand grabbing at the fat of your hips. "more."

you rock your hips before moving up again, higher on his cock, and drop down again. and again. and again. and when you clench down, jon's hand shoots down to your ass.

"fuck me."

and fuck him you do. you ride him while his groans grow louder and stop sounding less like groans and more like whines. your cunt is gripping him like a vice and you look so pretty above him and you sound so pretty above him and his cock is twitching inside your squelching pussy and he's close, so close now and, and—you fucking stop.

"no!" he growls, glaring at you and grabbing your hips. and when you plant yourself against him, not letting him move your body like he wants, he starts humping his hips up into you—anything to get the release he so desperately needs.

you push a hand against his chest. "jon," you say breathlessly, but he doesn't seem to hear you. "jon."

"what?" he snaps. his eyes latch onto yours and he feels suddenly embarrassed, acting like a dog in heat. he slows his hips to a standstill and feels his face flush under your gaze.

you lick your lips and trace a finger along his jaw. "did you miss me that much?"

he doesn't even need to think about it. "yes. so much." he swallows down a gulp of air. "please—please, i'm so close—"

"jon."

"yeah?" he looks up at you with pleading eyes, waiting, patient but not really, and expectant.

you look at him for a moment, taking in his features before clenching down on him again and saying, "take what you want."

jon swears he could've cried. "fuck—thank you." his hips have already started moving again. "yes, please, please—hah—thank you." he doesn't even need you to move, just lets you sit there and look pretty while he humps his way to a release.

he's whining again and you know he's close.

you begin moving your hips to meet his thrusts. "you gonna come for me?"

jon has to physically make himself respond to you. "yes." and fuck, he's right there, he just needs one more push.

you whisper, "be a good boy and come for me, then."

and he's gone.

jon makes a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan as he spills inside you, thrusts coming to a stop as your hips continue to fuck them through it.

he's breathing hard and still whispering small yes's and thank you's into your skin as you feel his cum seep down and out onto your thighs.

his arms enclose around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer as he comes down from his high, feeling suddenly very exhausted.

your fingers are carding through his hair and he thinks you're saying something, but jon doesn't even have the chance to respond or pull out of you before sleeps overcomes his senses.

© lovethornn 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate, or use any of my work in/for ai.

[lovethornn]

HEAD TO HER TOES ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SUMMARY. character sheet—birthday, ethnicity, personality, + hobbies.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. APPEARANCE BY. modern!daenerys targaryen.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WORD COUNT. 321.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DOB. may 18 in london, england. slavic and mediterranean roots.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PHYSICAL TRAITS. most platinum blonde hair ever with a slight wave. i'm a huge short!hair dany truther soo. she keeps her hair at her shoulders. always has some sort of braids in her hair. light eyes. naturally fair skin but she is super tan. 5'5" (165cm). petite but long and slender limbs.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PERSONALITY. very polite. approachable. nurturing and loyal to a fault. fiercely protective of those she loves and of herself. appears unassuming. prefers to observe and learn before taking action. very respectful of others and would hate to offend, but she'll remember any slight to herself or to others she cares for. leads with her heart; her emotions make her who she is. social butterfly. she loves people and learning new things.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. HOBBIES. swimming. she is constantly at the beach making sandcastles and playing in the water. horseback riding. takes her silver to the beach with her and loves to run wild. collects seashells and sea-glass to make jewelry out of. weaving and embroidery. volunteers at various animal and homeless shelters where she met missandei and her brother, marselen. takes them out to lunches and teaches missandei how to weave and make jewelry. accompanies marselen to his boxing matches and cheers in the rows with missandei. she wants to eventually become a real foster parent for them and others (since she can't have kids herself). if she's not working or at the beach, she's usually spending time with jhogo, horseback riding with irri, going to concerts with doreah, or shopping with jhiqui. loves learning new languages and traveling (her duolingo streak is ridiculous), since she moved around a lot as a kid. enjoys encountering new cultures and new people. takes the care and consideration of her three bearded dragons very seriously. they all have separate terrariums (because they can't be kept together) and are handled daily.

© lovethornn 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate, or use any of my work in/for ai.

[gotheyjoy]

don’t go to school in the south, northern boy

[lovethornn]

PAGES + SCREENS ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SUMMARY. modern!starkling headcannons about what books i think they'd read, movies + tv they'd watch, + games they'd play.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. APPEARANCES BY. robb stark, sansa stark, arya stark, bran stark, rickon stark, + jon snow.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WORD COUNT. 2993.

ned and cat read to each and every starkling before bed as they were growing up but the books read varied and it became a ritual to read at least a chapter a night as a family.

all of the starklings grew up playing various wolf simulator games together. robb would always be admin and create the pack and they'd all put themselves together and refuse to let other people join. all of their wolves online look identical to their own dogs in real life. sansa's wolf has flower accessories any time she's allowed them.

one time on roblox a girl tried to join the pack so she and robb could play the alpha male and female of the pack. robb profusely refused because it was "sibling bonding time" but the girl wouldn't give up and followed robb around for hours. jon and arya made fun of robb the entire time and arya "accidentally" let the girl join the pack via robb's phone when he went to the bathroom.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. ROBB enjoyed adventure books and was oddly attached to non-fiction books about wolves and ancient history. robb grew up reading percy jackson and harry potter, later moving on to the maze runner and 39 clues (+ basically anything by rick riordan). percy jackson lead him to the song of achilles and it awoke his hyperfixation on greek and roman mythology. read the illiad and the odyssey. jon convinced him to read diary of a wimpy kid and he didnt really like it but still bonded with jon over it. read all the i survived books and showed arya later. read wonder once and cried with sansa when they watched the movie because it made him think of bran. devoured lord of the rings his freshman year of high school and was made to read hunger games by cat and sansa. he's a huge peeta stan now and has a huge soft spot for prim because she reminds him of sansa.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. ROBB plays more than he reads and resents himself for it because he really does love reading. plays fortnite because of theon and only plays gta when theon wants to. plays call of duty with jon (and arya when ned and cat aren't home). loves red dead redemption 2 and has over 700 hours just replaying storymode because he loves arthur that much. plays those stupid sport games too because hes still just a teenage boy. the game portals. huge nintendo fan. like he's a fucking menace at mario kart. beats jon and theon every time. ned has only beaten him once and robb swears it was because he was going easy on the old man. he's also stupidly good at wii sports. minecraft with his siblings and they have a realm they've played on for years named for some dumb inside joke. tried to play animal crossing because sansa hyped it up so much but just sticks to minecraft. effortlessly good at redstone btw. plays just dance with sansa and theon makes fun of him for it.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. ROBB'S favorite movies growing up were mostly disney movies because of cat's influence. toy story, lion king, treasure planet. night at the museum has been in his top five since the first time he watched it. loves the gladiator movies like thats his niche right there. marvel>dcu. andrew garfield is his favorite spiderman. thor and captain america are his favorite avengers. the spiderverse movies have him fucking SAT in those theaters and best believe he was pissing himself when he found out andrew was in no way home. i know a biopic HATES to see robb stark coming. he has a love/hate relationship with them tho because they're almost never done correctly. watches hamilton at least once a month. sitcoms are his guilty pleasure; brooklyn nine-nine, the office, parks and recreation, modern family, big bang theory + young sheldon. him and jon freaked tf out when they found out they were doing a percy jackson show after those abysmal movies. absolutely despises disney's heracles and the movie troy because of how not myth-accurate they are. went to see oppenheimer with jon and theon while sansa and jeyne watched barbie. was roped into watching bridgerton with sansa and jeyne and he loved it. s2 is absolute favorite and hes a #1 anthony defender for his life. period pieces are very special to him. he and sansa binge the crown together.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SANSA of course loved fairytales and stories about princesses and white knights. narnia was her favorite and she was bawling when ned read that aslan died. reads the most out of the starklings. loved dork diaries (to rival arya's diary of a wimpy kid). a wrinkle in time which she showed bran and he liked it too because of the magic. read all of percy jackson but isn't nearly as big a fan as her brothers. harry potter was one of her first major hyperfixations. has read all of the selection series, shatter me (huge crush on warner), folk of the air series, the inheritance games, twilight (team jacob), divergent series, hunger games (crushing on peeta and finnick bad). is absolutely obsessed with classics; pride and prejudice, sense and sensibility, little women, frankenstien, romeo and juliet, anne of green gables. read the books before watching the summer i turned pretty and to all the boys i loved. watched s1 of bridgerton and immediately begged ned to buy her the series. her and jeyne were absolutely obsessed with heartstopper and spent afternoons making the leaves out of paper to hang up in their rooms. robb very easily convinced her to read song of achilles and watch new girl with him and cat. was blessed by the gods themselves the day she discovered wattpad and eventually tumblr and ao3.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SANSA plays almost exclusively sandbox games. she was absolutely obsessed with gacha life. her and jeyne spent sleepovers watching glmms and glmvs all night, taking the storylines very seriously. was unbelievably sad when it became "uncool" to watch and play gacha life. adores animal crossing, stardew valley, and tomodachi life. plays minecraft when robb makes her and only plays to tame dogs, build cute houses, and decorate said houses. hates mining and makes robb and jon do it. was obsessed with royal high on roblox and all the princess and mermaid games. her and jeyne would make robb roleplay with them on bloxburg. definitely played those super girly nail salon, hair, makeup games with the hot pink backgrounds. the sims is to sansa what rdr2 is to robb. has every single add-on pack and is constantly downloading new mods and content. the cats and dogs pack was life changing to her. lady was the first animal she ever made. the sims 4 disney princess challenge might've been the happiest she's ever been.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SANSA'S favorite movies are also very much influenced by cat but she truly does love disney. grew up watching disney channel; sofia the first, hannah montana, descendants. ever after high was her shit bro. beauty and the beast, bolt, strange magic, lady and the tramp. any movies with dogs has sansa hooked. a dog's purpose is a very sensitive topic for her. snow white and the huntsmen + any fairytale retelling. live action disney movies are very loved but animated versions are still very much sacred. frozen and anastasia are timeless. sansa is very attached to any form of musicals; glee, pitch perfect, grease, mamma mia, into the woods, and the greatest showman is absolute cinema in her eyes (because it is). sansa has all of the barbie movies on dvd. jeyne and her saw barbie (2023) the first day it was in theaters and cried. any and all period pieces and dramas of course; the help, grey's anatomy, bridgerton, anne with an e, the crown, downtown abbey. not an actual show but aphmau's minecraft diaries series. bro don't get her started on it. pop culture is also very important to her so keeping up with the kardashions, love island, the bachelor + the bachelorette. watches euphoria with jeyne but will swear up and down she never has to cat and ned (most rebellious thing she's ever done btw). watched mean girls and heathers before listening to the musicals. oh and romcoms are her fucking life dude. she is a romcom addict. 27 dresses, when harry met sally, 10 things i hate about you, breakfast at tiffany's, clueless, how to lose a guy in 10 days, and her all time favorite movie is legally blonde. she has a ridiculous amount of romcoms on dvd and can recite almost all of them by heart.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. ARYA liked adventure books but hated the princess/knight trope and predictable happily ever afters. the only fairytale she consistently enjoyed was little red riding hood because of the big bad wolf. hardly ever reads but when she does it's the only thing going on in her life. warrior cats. she fucking loves warrior cats. anything by erin hunter. wings of fire, captain underpants, diary of a wimpy kid, narnia (cat read to her when she was younger). thinks my little pony is badass. graphic novels became one of her favorites as she could read them fast and she didn't like that so many novels made her sit still for so long. read all the raina telgemeier graphic novels. jon introduced her to comics and ned sometimes wished he hadn't with how many he has to buy. wonder woman is her idol. supergirl, huntress, valkyrie.

ꫂ᭪݁. ARYA uses roblox solely to ragebait younger kids. doesn't matter what game she's playing she just wants to start some shit. they really shouldn't have added the voice chat. when playing minecraft she goes mining with jon and builds various farms. can't quite figure out redstone and it pisses her off to no end that robb can. she steals jon's console to play gta (to cat's dislike), and she really likes the last of us because it reminds her of ned and herself.

ꫂ᭪݁. ARYA is usually too busy or impatient to actually sit down and watch movies or tv shows. however, she did manage to sit through all of yellowjackets and she loved it. shrek is a big comfort movie for her. she'll let it play in the background while she makes herself busy with other activities. grew up with mulan and brave. dcu and marvel fan. watches the spiderverse movies with robb. absolutely hates zack snyder's movies tho. watched the first season of tlou and liked it for what it was but stopped watching halfway through the first episode of season two because it was just that bad. loves tim burton. edward scissorhands, corpse bride, frankenweenie. coraline and 9 are some of her favorites. monster house is peak comedy. loves adam sandler movies (and his sense of style). grown ups, big daddy, billy madison. dabbles in horror-comedies—scary movie, beetlejuice, ghostbusters—but also really likes horror movies with genuine plot—midsommar, us, the menu, sinners.

ꫂ᭪݁. BRAN loves scary stories and adventure books and sometimes has robb read old favorites of his if cat's busy (or if he just misses his brother). any books involving magic are his go-to. harry potter, lord of the rings (cat reads to him), the magic treehouse books, narnia, and i think when he gets older he'll like a series of unfortunate events. was in the room when cat read where the wild things are to rickon and nonchalantly liked it too. the i survived series is another favorite that he got from robb. has those minecraft guide books he never actually uses.

ꫂ᭪݁. BRAN is the biggest minecraft player ever. he's genuinely like a minecraft encyclopedia; ask him anything about the game and he can tell you the right answer. he's a builder and plays on a realm with his siblings and another one with meera and jojen. likes modded minecraft, specifically mods that add magic and more biomes. pokémon is a hyper fixation of his as well and magic of the gathering. nintendo is his favorite form of gaming (gets it from spending so much time with robb). tomodachi life, mario kart, stardew valley, animal crossing. five nights at freddy's is also a big fixation of his. he knows all the lore and has seen every game theory video over it. fnaf 4 is his favorite game and nightmare fredbear is his favorite animatronic. jon showed him plants v zombies and he got addicted to that for awhile.

ꫂ᭪݁. BRAN watches a lot of disney/pixar movies. monsters inc., the incredibles, lightyear. is also really obsessed with "halloween" movies like monster house, nightmare before christmas, frankenweenie, casper, hotel transylvania, the box trolls, and the addams family. went and saw the fnaf movies in theaters with sansa (for josh hutcherson) and arya (for fnaf). and he looovess the dark crystal even though it creeps everyone else out. labyrinth is another favorite of his which led him to start listening to david bowie. anime. one piece, avatar last airbender, my neighbor totoro.

ꫂ᭪݁. RICKON is the wild baby of the family. cat reads him where the wild things are nearly every night before bed. all the books he likes are animal related. pete the cat, llama llama, elephant and piggy. non-fiction books as well that are all about wolves.

ꫂ᭪݁. RICKON plays basically only roblox and minecraft. he's been temporarily banned from the family minecraft realm because all he does is blow stuff up with tnt and burn things with lava. arya also taught him one too many curse words so he's been timeouted on roblox more times than he should've been because of the voice chat.

ꫂ᭪݁. RICKON watches disney and youtube shorts. any movie with animals and hes hooked. the jungle book, the lion king, a bug's life, finding nemo, zootopia, bambi, robin hood, and he especially loves the fox and the hound. his youtube shorts are only roblox and skibidi toilet. he confuses ned and cat to no end with his chronically online speech.

ꫂ᭪݁. JON'S favorite book growing up was the one and only ivan. he read narnia by himself because he didn't want to ask cat in fear of being rejected. ned read him harry potter. robb and him bonded over percy jackson. jon related a little too hard and was obsessed with the idea his mom was a goddess and used it to cope with her death. dabbled in warrior cats but decided it wasn't for him. THE OUTSIDERS. fucking loves the outsiders and has read and annotated it so much his copy if it is genuinely falling apart. he cried hard when johnny died. he will annoy theon to death when he rants about it to him and robb. jack london's white fang. has read every issue of the walking dead comics and is obsessed. the x-men comics are his favorite thing to come out of marvel. read james cameron's avatar graphic novels as well and loves them much more than the movies. biographies, memoirs, and true crime books.

ꫂ᭪݁. JON plays storymode games and horror/zombie games. red dead redemption, the last of us, resident evil, call of duty. is very attached to the walking dead game and the last of us because of clementine's and ellie's resemblance to arya. tried to be rebellious and play gta to spite cat, but he lowkey doesn't like it so he went back to cod and now only plays it when he's convinced by theon and robb so he doesn't feel left out. life is strange, phasmophobia, zoochosis. also just plays any indie horror game he thinks looks interesting. jon was the one who showed bran plants v zombies and got him into fnaf since jon himself liked the games too. plays horror games on roblox by himself and other random games with arya to ragebait kids. played guitar hero and was so much better than robb. he felt very proud. plays just dance with sansa. started to play stardew valley but he got bored. plays tomodachi life and gets so pissed when his mii's don't act like the people they're based off of. on minecraft, he mines with arya and builds castles made almost entirely out of deepslate, weathered copper, and spruce wood.

ꫂ᭪݁. JON watches the walking dead and supernatural on loop. they're comfort shows for him (somehow). watched the first season of the last of us with arya and refused to watch season two because of the casting. his absolute favorite movie growing up—that's still in his top five—is brother bear. he cries to that movie every time he watches it. watching sitka die at the beginning of the movie gets to him because all he can think of is robb. spirit of the cimarron herd is another favorite because of the indigenous representation. hates disney's pocahontas because of how inaccurate it is, but he fucks heavy with the soundtrack. the animated white fang has a special place in his heart. really enjoyed prey and loves the predator franchise. loved the first avatar movie and only likes the second one for the family and sibling dynamics. watched all of the pitt in a weekend and is rooting for kingdon so hard (he's never wished for an affair quite like this before). going to see deadpool in theaters was one of the only events him and theon had fun at together (robb was clutching his pearls the entire time). sansa had him watch twilight and he only liked the werewolf parts. true crime shows and crime dramas. dahmer made him squirm. the menendez brothers show made him pissed beyond reason because of how badly done it was. extremely wicked, shockingly evil and vile made him see zac efron in an entirely different light. criminal minds, bones, ncis made him want to go into forensic psychology. loved robert pattinson in the batman and hopes he can one day achieve that level of goth.

© lovethornn 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate, or use any of my work in/for ai.

[lovethornn]

HEADS TO THEIR TOES ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. SUMMARY. character sheets for the modern!starklings—birthdays, ethnicities, personalities, + hobbies.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. APPEARANCES BY. robb stark, sansa stark, arya stark, bran stark, rickon stark, + jon snow.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. WORD COUNT. 2232.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DISCLAIMER! i am not from europe nor have i ever been there. i have an american education, so if i get some things wrong please be kind. thank you!!

ROBB STARK ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DOB. september 13 in hannover, germany. sámi roots from eddard. irish and german roots from catelyn.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PHYSICAL TRAITS. wavy auburn hair. blue eyes. broad shoulders. freckles. 5'10" (178 cm). lean physique with attention to his core. been doing sports since he was small so he's pretty much always in good shape. looks more irish and german than sámi. younger catelyn and him could've been twins. consistently has to show people pictures of ned to prove he does in fact have sámi roots.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PERSONALITY. analytical. very observant and attentive. plans activities and conversations out in his head. takes every detail and person into account. being unprepared makes him anxious. natural leader. my loyal boy he just expects the best out of everyone. looks up to his parents and is incredibly kind and respectful to veterans because of ned. he's just the sweetest boy ever i swear. helps elderly people cross the street. volunteers at animal and homeless shelters. donates old clothes he doesn't wear anymore. wonderful caretaker. lets rickon sleep in his bed when he had a bad dream. holds sansa's hair back when she's sick and throwing up. and he's a mama's boy (but not in a toxic way trust). independent from a young age. honest to a fault. cares for his siblings more than himself. has two pairs of pajama pants he wears interchangeably on a very precise schedule. cries when he's angry. temperamental at times and will say things he doesn't mean, but he's learned to use sports to let out steam and calm himself.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. HOBBIES. hockey. mans is constantly thinking about the game and working on his physique. goes for a run every morning with greywind and out on the ice to skate at least once a week, but will go more often if sansa or arya wants to join. genuinely enjoys ice skating. really likes being outdoors. canoeing, hiking, horseback riding, archery. uses any excuse he can to go outside (and frolic). was in chess club and played the violin. uses hockey and working out to take his frustrations out. lunches and outings with his team. journals occasionally. photography. hugeeee history buff. history and art museums. he swears he's so normal about museums but he is anything but. anything involving his siblings. beating jon and theon at mario kart. playing days-long matches of chess with cat. letting sansa do drag makeup on him and practice her braiding. fake tattoos and attempting to skateboard with arya. magic of the gathering and pokeman collecting with bran. play-fighting with rickon while greywind and shaggydog bark and jump around just so he can hear rickon's laugh. oddly enjoys cooking and binging the crown with catelyn. practicing for games on the ice with ned. perfect boy. he just likes being with his family.

SANSA STARK ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DOB. november 28 in stirling, scotland. sámi roots from eddard. irish and german roots from catelyn.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PHYSICAL TRAITS. waist-length wavy, auburn hair. wears her hair in braids or down with small braids. 5'7" (170cm). freckles she hates. blue eyes. perfectly manicured nails and pushed back cuticles. doesn't need makeup in the slightest, but still wears some concealer to try to cover up some of her freckles. mascara is a must at all times.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PERSONALITY. grew up coddled so she comes off a little spoiled, but she has a kind heart. she means the absolute best. honest. quiet in public. the loudest when she's with jeyne or fighting with arya. hopeless romantic. passionate about everything she loves. considerate of others and attempts to make everyone happy. optimistic. sees the best in people. the best gift-giver ever. sunshine girl. her dog is (one of) her best friend. gets annoyed when people are shallow or rude for no reason. incredibly open-minded, but she does prefer order to her life.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. HOBBIES. crochet. embroidery. sewing. anything to do with fashion and design. all of her clothes have something special embroidered onto them. made lady a bow to put on her collar. thrifting is a regular weekend ritual. makes little crocheted plushies for bran and rickon. figure skating and ballet have her entire heart and soul. plays the flute. made ned go to dancing lessons with her (he loved them so much). diamond painting. any craft that requires a ridiculous amount of patience and attention to detail. reading. my girl loovess to read. she's the biggest reader in the family. reads everything before she watches it (most times). has overflowing bookshelves and stacks upon stacks of books all over her bedroom floor. makeup. she doesn't necessarily wear a lot, but she loves putting it onto other people (especially robb, jon, + ned because they all have such long eyelashes). certified cinefile. running, not walking, to the theater. saw the barbie movies in theaters five times (trust she cried every time). wants to live in nyc sooooo bad. it's at the very top of all her dream boards. scrapbooking and journaling. pinterest and letterboxd are her most used apps. tiktok is solely for edits that her and jeyne send each other ("peeta mellark please just one chance"). cannot wait for sunrise on the reaping to come out. she's one of the girls fr.

ARYA STARK ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DOB. april 16 in stirling, scotland. sámi roots from eddard. irish and german roots from catelyn.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PHYSICAL TRAITS. short, choppy dark hair that she doesn't let get farther than her shoulders. bangs. occasional braids parts of her hair. naturally skinny. 5'3" (160cm). a few moles on her face, but otherwise very little freckles. brown eyes. chipped right canine tooth. eyebrow slit that catelyn has a personal vendetta against.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PERSONALITY. impulsive, loud, carefree, wild girl. soooo honest. fearless, truly. her spirit is unmatched. loves to just go outside and howl with nymeria. she don't give a gaf. she's happy and unapologetic about being her free self. ride or fucking die. independent. natural leader. hates following others and has always just wanted to do her own thing. will argue with you even if she realizes she's wrong halfway through the discussion. talks really loud without meaning to. number one ragebaiter. says abbreviations out loud to purposely annoy sansa and confuse ned. is lowkey a bit of a slob and will fall asleep anywhere. adhd for sure. basically eats the same thing everyday and it confuses sansa to no end. messiest eater alive btw. ("how did you get the mac-n-cheese in your hair??" "idk") extremely competitive (don't play monopoly with her if you aren't gonna finish it). sore loser who will most definitely get back at you for winning later. relentless, stubborn girl. refuses to shave her legs. gets angry easily but she truly means it when she says she's sorry for hurting your feelings (unless you're joffrey). doesn't say things unless she believes it and doesn't make promises she knows she can't keep. only cries in front of nymeria and jon. can't stand going to sansa's ballet recitals and having to be still for so long but she can admit that they work extremely hard. witty. caring, kind, understanding, and knows her worth.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. HOBBIES. horseback riding. skateboarding. swimming in lakes and jumping off cliffs with nymeria. fencing. anything that gets her moving and out of the house she's all over. played football (soccer) when she was younger. cat tried to teach her piano when she was younger and to this day arya only knows hot cross buns. tried basketball and volleyball but was unfortunately too short. gaming with jon is one of her favorite past-times. she's ridiculously good at cod and fortnite. pierced her own ears and is currently working on convincing cat to let her get more (ned already said yes). is really into boxing and jiu jitsu and is on her school's wrestling team. makes jon and gendry fight her and goes to the gym with robb. exploring the woods with nymeria and carving their initials into trees. plays fnaf with bran and watches ufc with gendry. cutting her hair. will sometimes let sansa braid her hair and do her makeup on the conditions that she gets to go thrifting with sansa and make her wear whatever arya wants.

BRAN STARK ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DOB. june 29 in stirling, scotland. sámi roots from eddard. irish and german roots from catelyn.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PHYSICAL TRAITS. shaggy auburn hair. soooo many freckles. baby face. blue eyes. he looks just like his mama. born paralyzed from the waist down, but trust he does not let that stop him from causing trouble.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PERSONALITY. quiet but very extroverted. gets irritated very easily by rickon. catelyn is his person. he loves his siblings and his father but no one compares to his mom. cautious. curious. laughs at almost anything. stubborn. strong-willed. can't go to sleep peacefully without a story being read to him. very ambitious and competitive. watching him and arya fight to win uno is very entertaining.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. HOBBIES. card and board games. magic of the gathering, pokémon, d&d. family game night is his favorite night of the week. loves spending time with his siblings and reading with summer in the yard. plays indie horror games with jon and fnaf with arya. is soooooo good at fnaf. knows all the lore and hidden easter eggs. has all of the books and rants to jojen about the lore. lost his mind when he found out they were doing the fanf movies. minecraft is his shit. unironically the best minecraft-er of the bunch. plays it all the live-long day with meera and jojen. trained summer how to clean his room for him (cat was not impressed). reads exclusively horror books. chronically online. says 6-7 any chance he gets. youtube shorts and him are of the same mind.

RICKON STARK ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DOB. march 30 in stirling, scotland. sámi roots from eddard. irish and german roots from catelyn.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PHYSICAL TRAITS. wild auburn hair. brown eyes. freckles. very defined eyebrows and pout. most baby face to ever baby face.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PERSONALITY. adorably angry. so incredibly stubborn. snooty and hella spoiled. clings to ned and robb's legs whenever he isn't being held. his first word was "dada" and ned totally didn't cry when cat showed him. manipulated (grown man) ned into buying him a giant ass ipad he carries around with him everywhere. (sansa refuses to touch it because of how many sticky finger prints and smudges are on it.)

‎ꫂ᭪݁. HOBBIES. blowing up anything and everything in minecraft. he's been banned from the family minecraft realm until further notice for such antics. running around with shaggydog and playing peek-a-boo. chronically online. is the only person in that house that truly knows what skibidi toilet means. runs his youtube shorts like the fucking navy.

JON SNOW ⋆⟢

‎ꫂ᭪݁. DOB. december 31 in barcelona, spain. sámi roots from lyanna. slavic and mediterranean roots from rhaegar.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PHYSICAL TRAITS. slighty wavy dark hair he keeps long. tans easily. completely clear skin, no freckles and only one mole on his back. brown eyes. lean with muscle. 5'10" (178cm). androgynous features. long eyelashes. vertical scars on his eyelids and through his eyebrows. burn scars on his right hand. has his ears pierced.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. PERSONALITY. quiet. reserved. ambitious. very observant. brooding. emotional and deeply feeling. hardworking and incredibly disciplined. goal-oriented. when bro starts something best believe he's gonna finish it. problem-solver of the family. makes the hard choices (like who's gonna get the last apple juice). most witty, dry humor anyone could ever have. pessimistic. stubborn. soooo caring and he shows it purely through being protective and listening and being understanding of people's feelings and ideas because he knows exactly what it's like to not be heard and seen. fiercely loyal to his friends and family. jealous jealous boy. when he wants something bad and sees someone else getting it bro it grinds his fucking gears.

‎ꫂ᭪݁. HOBBIES. gaming. any zombie game ever and his ass is SAT. cod zombies, the last of us, resident evil. horror games too like doesn't matter if it's super popular or indie he'll play it. phasmophobia, silent hill, until dawn, dead space, the outlast trials. any horror game. also loooovessss storymode games. red dead redemption 2 is genuinely his favorite game ever. life is strange. the walking dead was the most fun he's ever had while playing a game. walks with ghost. collecting cd's. book + vinyl stores. makes his own coffee. attempted hockey with robb one year and decided it was a little too violent for him so he took up snow boarding. snow boarding led him to skateboarding with arya. graphic novels and comics—specifically the walking dead. really likes memoirs and biographies and hyperfixating on his favorite bands. has to be doing something with his hands so he started sketching. most of his drawings are charcoal and of ghost, landscapes, and lyanna. learned how to play bass and the drums. is really good at singing but refuses to do it in public. spent one summer learning how to do origami and now he makes frogs and swans when he's bored. really wanted to get into theatre because sansa was talking about it but he accidentally let it slip out one day in front of theon and the constant teasing ended that dream. really likes parks and taking ghost there at night to just sit on the swings and listen to music.

© lovethornn 2026. please do not repost, copy, translate, or use any of my work in/for ai.