#the-spindle

[jaimelannisterthings]

"I'm not one for fleas. See to it that you remove the wolves from the Lion's den." A light pat to his cheek.

“One by one, or all at once?”

“Sweet sister, you should be more specific.”

[jaimelannisterthings]

@the-spindle liked this for an insult

“If the hatred in your voice has taken root in your cunt--”

“--I think it safer I avoid risking contact, sweet sister.”

[jaimelannisterthings]

"Do you love me, Jaime?"

“Do you love me, Cersei?”

Jaime knew his tone would only make their deteriorating relationship worse, but how did she not understand how much he loved her? Was Cersei incapable of loving him as he loved her, now? The man had murdered, trekked countless miles, endured months of abuse in inhumane conditions to rejoin her. The memory of her laugh, her breath against his skin, her hair aglow in setting sunlight had sustained him then, but only nourished a deep sadness in his heart now. What had happened to them? 

“Ever since I returned, I only seem able to repulse you.”

[jaimelannisterthings]

"I've decided to be nice to you." Alcohol on her breath. She grabs at his tunic and pulls him in for a smooch. //Deal with that!

This smooch Jaime accepted, drawing Cersei in closer to himself.

Only seconds passed before he drew his lips away, touching their foreheads together, their breath mingling. “You don’t smell of wine,” Jaime pointed out, his voice low as if the words could shatter the stillness of the night around them.

[daughtersoftheold]

The only time Cersei felt some sort of love, or caring to anyone, is of her children. She’s aware of how the boys try to out do themselves with fighting, Joffrey always winning–or the girls with their needle work. A smile came to her lips as she sat there, drinking her wine ever so slightly.

“Very lovely, my darlings. Soon I’m sure you’ll be as good as your sister. Never give up. Even if it is merely needle and thread.”  Myrcella is doing so well that she slips from her seat and places her glass down. Moving across the table she stands by Jennine’s seat. “Come walk with me.”

Jennine looks down at her own work, not feeling all that proud of what she had done now that she saw her sister’s work. Even her mother’s words couldn’t lift her spirits. When she realized her mother had been talking to her, the youngest couldn’t hide her joy. It was wonderful that her mother wanted to walk with her. It meant getting away from needlepoint and hopefully walking in her favorite part of the castle, the gardens.

She puts down her needlepoint on her chair, and moves to walk beside her mother. She had started her lady lessons long ago, but she was just starting to walk as she was instructed how a “lady” should. Her shoulders held back, and her hands clasped in front of her.

@the-spindle

[jaimelannisterthings]

Moving to him, a light hand on his arm and a smooch to his cheek. "Happy Holidays, brother." And that's all he'll get. Distance is a bitch but she likes it more then company.

His expression stayed steady, lips twitched into a partial smile yet eyebrow raised despite. Jaime returned from captivity expecting a warm welcome, but all he’d found so far proved icy cold. Even the touch just now seemed as though she wore an invisible glove so as not to truly make direct contact. The kiss was pleasant, though it mostly made him want more.

Jaime might have frowned if not for the same reason he’d yet to cry since arriving weeks before. He had decided such emotions beneath him, and he’d buried them so deep within himself even he’d not find them should he search.

He liked to think that anyways, “Is that my gift?”

@the-spindle

[tofeelthecold]

" I don't know what's worse. You wanting to be the hand to Joffrey or Margaery. "

@the-spindle

Sansa dropped her eyes from Queen Cersei. She was doing her best to be good and not anger Joffery and felt as if Margaery could be a friend or confidant but perhaps she was wrong. She was a slow learner and even slower at picking up when she wasn’t wanted or when she was poking her nose where it didn’t belong.

“I..” she began but didn’t know what to say. “You have my word that I will not interfere again,” she finally stated after a long moment. The red-head didn’t know what was worse, knowing that she was completely alone or the illusion that she had at least one friend in this terrible place that she had so desperately wanted to see when she when she was younger. “I want to be no one’s hand and I want no hand, your Grace,” she offered as she looked up at the Queen.