first in winter

welcome on board the HMS CRACKSHIPS - a place to share my obsessions about two specific crackship: Sansa/Dickon & Lyanna/Arthur (to not spam the followers of my mainblog :P)

[harritudur]

“Good night, my Lady…” He didn’t say another word, and simply left the her title hanging in the silence, purposely used to place distance between them, as he always did. The air turned heavy in the small cottage, and Lyanna eyes wandered shamelessly over his tense body. “Good night Arthur.”

( essos-au ) request + fancast: santiago cabrera & alexis bledel

[harritudur]

“And here Lady Lyanna, my most loyal and trusted knight,” the Prince says, looking over her head at the person behind her, “Ser Arthur Dayne.” The Sword of the Morning? She raises and turns around, to find an impressive silent man observing her. Her lips part and no words come out. The wolf-girl pauses, a hesitation after which she is still not offering her hand —nevertheless, the Knight grasps it carefully, and brushes his mouth across the back of her fingers. “My Lady.”

[arthurandlyanna]

( request AU ) Lyanna Stark survives Robert’s rebellion & Arthur Dayne is not killed at The Tower of Joy. To protect her son, she lets her brother takes him to the North and, now married to Robert, Lyanna is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Arthur, despite his loyalty to the late Prince, is still a member of the Kingsguard and swears allegiance to the new King. Being the only one in King’s Landing to know what happened at the Tower, Arthur becomes the confidant of Queen Lyanna. The two grow close, despite the danger and their shared survivor guilt…

[harritudur]

modern au + arthur dayne / lyanna stark (and lil’ jon) inspired by @tsaritsaofstory​‘s last edit ♥

[harritudur]

request: arthur/lyanna + spontaneous love-making (maybe a bit awkward) please??

The road between Selhorys and Volantis has nothing intriguing or exciting.  So this all situation, even if really pleasant, is strange: pressed into the soil, the snap of breaking twigs, mossy, damp smells in the air, high birdsong in the shade. The scrape of forest floor is against Arthur’s back and Lyanna can’t quite keep rhythm, riding him; she’s off beat –on every beat tho, too fast or too slow, erratically shaking and panting her breath. But still, gorgeous.

Arthur looks up at her and grabs her hips; she leans further forwards, braces herself differently, both hands on his torso for balance. They stutter. He thrusts up, makes Lyanna groan, and eases her downwards. And she seems to take stock of her pleasure.

“Lya,” he mutters, and rocks up where they’re already tight together. He envies Lyanna, completely owned by this moment, enjoying slowly every second, locked into here and now –whilst Arthur is always in before and soon.

“Lyanna,” he says again, to ground her back.

She stares down at the man straddled beneath her, vision blurred.  “Oh… yeah, sorry.” She is like that, his wolf-lady. Wild and impulsive.

She is the one who requested a halt for an urgent need. He imagined a halt to rest their horses, or to pee, or to feed her one year-old son –who is still asleep in his cradle, carefully attached and hanged to the saddle of her horse. It didn’t cross Arthur’s mind she was talking about that kind of need.

Lyanna lifts up and pushes down, little pulses morphing into longer, heavier, deeper beats. Arthur’s pulled along with her, almost all the way. Lyanna’s face is damp and flushed; a bead of sweat dripping from her forehead and down her neck, smudges of earth mingling with forest shadows on her skin. She could have grown here, something of the land, not quite human. Almost supernatural. Her delight in open-air exercises is properly noted in the back of Arthur’s memory.

He pulls up so that that they’re sitting, Lyanna still locked around him, arms around his neck, legs around waist, her whole body shivering. He takes in all over again; the trees, the patches of sky, the whispering leaves, the birds, the forest smell, Lyanna –skin, heat, mouth and breathe. So beautiful. Arthur kisses her and presses her down, thrusts hard.

“Yes –yes, like that.” Lyanna mutters against his lips, with something deep-down and dried-blood dark in her voice, something that sticks and catches. “Arthur,” she breathes.

Arthur dredges up what like that is and thrusts deep to drag out another moan. He keeps going, and he forgets, for an overflowing handful of moments, that he cannot live only for the before and soon. Lyanna urges him along. They find a beat.

She is his here and now.

[harritudur]

from the Essos AU  -  Arthur x Lyanna  -  “Sometimes, the simple things are more fun and meaningful than all the banquets in the world …”   

There are many things about Arthur that Lyanna can’t help but love: the cocky grin when he calls her My Lady despite her protests to call her Lyanna; the little pinch of skin that forms between his eyebrows when he is thinking critically; the way his arms wrapped around her son when the boy solicits a hug; or the warm expanse of golden skin she has the privilege of seeing and, sometimes, touching.

Yet, when the day is over, when Jon’s bath is done and is sleeping in his crib, and the conclusion of their day leaves them pliant and weary, what Lyanna really loves about Arthur is the way he allows her to touch –as they sit side by side by the fireplace. Soft touches, barely there, nothing more –for he is still a sworn Knight and she, his Lady– touches over shoulder blades and sensitive skin and scars healed pale and pink beneath her fingers. It’s wonderful, comfortable.

But nothing beats the moments when Arthur is docile enough to let her slip her hand up the back of his neck, tug very gently against the hair at the base of his skull, and then thread her fingers through the thick, dark mane.

The way Arthur sighs deeply, breath ghosting while looking at the flames, eyelids fluttering with the effort to keep them open and stay quiet, that makes Lyanna smile. The big tough Sword of The Morning humming like a cat or a big dog at the prospect of having a petting session. But it is the moments following, when her long, thin fingers curl and caress the soft, dark strands; when Lyanna’s short, blunt fingernails scrape gently across Arthur’s scalp that the she-wolf feels the Knight relax completely. The thought that she alone gets Arthur like this, can watch his face smooth out, his shoulders raise as the tension falls off of them, makes her heart flutter. She is the one who melts the day under the heavy Essos’sun away; who soothes him to sleep with the gentle skill of her fingers and listens to their heartbeats slowing together and the breaths slowing, deepening until sleep is about to overtake.

It is those moments just before sleep, between wakefulness and dosing, moments no one else invades that Lyanna tucks away in her memory for safe keeping. She makes every moment count, holds tight, even if in these moments, she must fight to restrain herself to press her lips on Arthur’s neck –for she is still his Lady, and he, her sworn Knight.

When Lyanna’s own eyes close, fingers loosen in Arthur’s hair, it is the moment he moves away and stands up. “It is late.” There is nothing to dispute, so she nods. “Good night, my lady,” A heavy whisper, and he leaves the main room of their small house.

When Arthur closes the door behind him, Lyanna leans back in the chair and began to sip the too-sweet Volantis wine in her cup, looking at the dancing flames in the hearth. She wonders just how late the hour is and how many evenings it will take her to kiss him.

(ao3)

[harritudur]

Such thoughts shouldn’t cross his mind. He took vows, body and soul dedicated to his duty. And most importantly: even in their small house by the Orange Coast, she is a Princess, for she married a Prince, and she is now the mother of a two years old boy he considers as his King. Lyanna. Her name shouldn’t even pass his lips.

[harritudur]

*(from the AU where Lyanna has to marry a son of Starfall and to live there)

Lyanna lounges on her bed in nothing but a light tunic. When will this insufferable heat stop?, she sighs. Four months and the daughter of the North is still unable to accustom to the Dornish weather.

One day, Arthur appears at her doorstep, and he takes Lyanna by the hand. What in the Gods’ names, she starts, but Arthur only shrugs, and he tugs her down the decorated corridors, back through the kitchens and past the servants’ quarters. They end up in a luxuriant field of date palms by Starfall, growing wonderfully despite the heat. She frowns at him, puzzled.

A breeze. Dark clouds above them. And she suddenly feels it.

First there’s one drop, then two. Then it turns into a deluge, a downpour, and rain drips off Lyanna’s nose, clinging her light tunic to her skin. The first rain in five months. She laughs and opens her hands to feel the fresh drops falling in her palms. Arthur, imperturbable, smiles.

What?, she says.

Nothing my Lady, he replies.

[sansatarly]

Oswell Whent:Are you a big spoon or a little spoon?

Arthur Dayne:I’m a knife.

Lyanna Stark, from across the room:He’s a little spoon.

[sansatarly]

me checking the arthur/lyanna tag on AO3

[askdiyebirseyyok]

[sansatarly]

#arthur x lyanna#(bodyguard-au)#edinburgh airport - terminal 8#they spent a week in scotland in the north.#her home.#rumors and stalking and phonecalls in the middle of the night forced the bodyguard to take this radical decision#he remembers rhaegar's intructions before his flight to south africa for some business#''look after her. keep her in my penthouse. there won't be dangers here.''#but it didn't stop the anonymous stalkers at her college or threatening messages on social medias#and his penthouse in london turned more into a golden cage than a safe-place.#she had called her family to warn them of her (and her bodyguard's) arrival before leaving behind them her phone in london and flying north.#the moment she breathed in scotland's fresh air she felt herself again.#of course she presented arthur as a 'friend' (''from Erasmus. a spanish studiant from Malaga. yeah he is a bit old but he is a slow learner.'')#because she knew her brothers would hate the paternalistic and -a bit- controlling attitude of rhaegar.#a week away from london turmoil and its crazy jungle#a week away from any social medias#a week at home#a week with arthur -and not just with rhaegar's bodyguard#but they have to go back now b/c college can not wait longer and rhaegar's will be back soon.#so they wait their flight for london at edinburgh airport#lyanna lets her head finds the crook of his neck -so easily it surprises her-#and takes his hand to place it around her.#it is winter and the terminal is cold *she* will have this excuse.#his lips kiss the top of her head and his warm fingers play with her brown hair.#*he* won't have any excuse.#but they both don't really care.#she fell asleep in his arms.

[marthajefferson]

the ‘Everybody-Lives’ Essos!AU + Arthur & Lyanna & little Jon on their mare as they owe just one horse, this is what happens when they all have to go to Volantis or to the market by the shore, and it is usually Arthur who holds the reins -to Lyanna’s regret. (yet, one day she will take the mare without telling him and will participate in a race gathering some of the best riders of Essos… but this is another chapter of this AU :P)

. click for bigger version .

[harritudur]

[sansatarly]

#in the first gif he is looking at little jon sleeping in lyanna's arms#then in the second gif he is looking at lyanna's deep grey eyes#and his jaw clenches and he is like 'oh shit...'

[harritudur]

+ au ASOIAF fic + lyanna stark / arthur dayne + pg + 1018 words +

Arthur hates the cold —and the cold seems to hate him

note: this fic takes place in the AU created by @lyannas and seen in the fic Hold On To Your Heart (fic i wrote and post with her permission), so the dynamic between arthur & lyanna is not idyllic –read her fic if you haven’t yet–, and idk… maybe we can call this one-shot as ‘filler-episode’? XD lol

–

Nobody questions how Lyanna was able to find him in a snowstorm. She is daughter of the North, and when Arthur wasn’t back at the gates of Winterfell at the planned hour –knowing his military’s concept of schedule and his promise to return at twilight– Lyanna knew something happened. 

Men were sent to seek him out and she led the research. A couple of hours later, they –she– found him, unconscious by a river, freezing droplets trickling off his clumped strands of dark hair, lips & tips of fingers starting to turn blue. “Over here!” she screamed.

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[arthurandlyanna]

( request by @theangelsity : Arthur seeing the she-wolf for the first time )

How old can she be? he thought, observing the young girl shooting in the middle of the camp. Ten-and-four? Maybe ten-and-five? Younger than Allyria… And yet, she dared to face three boys alone, a wooden tourney sword in her hands. Ready to fight her enemies, the Kingsguard noted the change of positioning of her feet. Good balance.

[therealadrenalineshots]

[harritudur]

#he is older than her#not *that* much older -only 9 years#but still -9 years in term of technology and informatic are synonym of a century#so when he escorts her to galas or concerts or private previews or even a simple walk#and that her phone is perpetually trapped into her palm#he sighs despite the obligation of distance with his ‘mark’#“can you not leave this connected brick just one minute miss stark?#furthermore it’s dangerous: your localization is easier to find with you carrying it all the time”#“but are you not supposed to look after me all the time?”#he is#rhaegar left the country since a week for whatever business opportunity in africa#and gave him the order to look after his betrothed#“i bet you still have floppy disks in your office’s drawers-”#he smiles behind her at the words#and she can hear the slight change of breathing because of it#“-but we both know you are more a punched-cards user”#he laughs this time#and the young woman turns to face him#the sound of a camera clicking is heard#and the picture captures the fleeting moment:#the contrast of his tanned skin with his white teeth#the curly lips#the crinkled eyes#the dimples#the way his whole face softens#but the bodyguard regains his coolness quickly to find the miss smiling proudly#“and i bet you do not use instagram”#“miss…you didn’t”#it isn’t a question#“oh yes i did'’

[harritudur]

squire au: ser dayne teaching sword fight or archery to his squire lyanna please? ((fic))

part of this squire-AU  |  fic + one moodboard

-

When Arthur wants to teach something, henormally goes the painful route of “try and fail until your limbs can no more carryyou and your fingers bleed”, and Lyanna’s gotten used to equate lessonsfrom him with bruises and muscle aches in places she didn’t know have muscles.

This morning is different.

Arthur holds the bow with reverence,gentle and almost unaware of Lyanna’s presence, except for how he keeps up asoft monologue.

“The secret to shooting a recurve bow,lies in the nature of the relationship between you and the weapon. A swordbecomes a part of you, an extension of your arm, but the bow is different. Ittakes you over, makes your body a part of it, and you become the weapon.”

Arthur moves like a large cat, sensuous,silent, with no effort at all. He looks golden -no, bronzed- and powerful in the darkness of the courtyard.Lyanna swallows and concentrates on the meaning of the words despite the tiredness, and the way Arthur’s voice send shivers across her skin.

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