#myrc3lla

[ungvargr]

robb hadn't been sure how he would feel upon hearing the news that his wife was with child. there was an overwhelming surge of pride and happiness , followed quickly by some panic that had to be quelled. childbirth was dangerous , and so was war. as much as robb wished for myrcella to be safe and comfortable , he couldn't deny the happiness he felt that they were finally expecting a babe. a prince or princess for the north. a precious gift to the wolf from his precious doe.

“Give me your hand so you can feel it, too” @myrc3lla .

before he knows he's moving , he's crossing the room to her , hand reaching out to place in her's , to then be placed upon her belly. she's not that big yet , only showing slightly , but once his hand is there , and he feels that little kick , it all just becomes a whole different level of real for him. his child. his son , or daughter. he'll be happy with either if he's being honest about it. he'll love a daughter just as much as a son , and he can't help his smile beaming , before dropping evenly down to kneel upon his knees before her. his father had been right. there was nothing quite like feeling this for the first time. ' a strong babe. i can tell already. ' he praised. both to her and to their little babe working hard to grow. stark eyes gaze up to baratheon ones , holding her gaze in reverence. ' i love you myrcella. '

[nxthero]

✧ ⊱ @myrc3lla

ㅤㅤㅤHARRY SHOULD HAVE PUT HER OUT OF HIS MIND THE MOMENT HE LEFT. Plenty of incentive to, given how her mother had tried to have him killed not so long after. Aye, he'd get no gold from Cersei, even if he would have brought her the men who'd schemed against her daughter. ( But the ships and gold he claimed from them when he took their heads compensated well enough. Such is the Iron Price. ) Her own men, however, those he chose to return to the queen, as well as a fire rose for the princess. He wasn't sure which he wished he could have seen more; Cersei's fit of rage, or Myrcella's reaction to the rose. If she would even care. He's sure she has plenty of men dying to give her more than enough roses these days.

ㅤㅤㅤThat should have been the end of things. A year has come and pass, one queen has been replaced by another, and Myrcella is just as close to the throne as before. And him? He's still nothing by comparison. His father disappeared sailing east and so did any hope that he might earn his acknowledgement. What was he thinking? That Euron might say he's his, and one of the warring rulers would legitimize him? that he might have a chance then? Foolish. He should have known better. Euron would have been more likely to kill him for asking. And as for Cersei, the Targaryen has taken her place, but he's not sure she'd bear him any more love than her deposed rival. Everything he wants seems to be more out of reach than ever these days.

ㅤㅤㅤWhy, then, does he choose to make a show of himself at the princess' maiden ball? She should be a thing of memory alone, but those memories would never leave him be, damn her. No matter where he went, he never found a shade of golden hair more beautiful, nor eyes like green jewels, nor that defiance and sweetness all held in one person. He has no business being here, and yet he can't leave it be. He has to know, does he still drive her as mad after a year apart, the way her memory alone has done to him? The Ironborn slips in without introduction, keeping away from anyone that questions too much until the Princess makes her appearance. And he watches for a while, making note of each unworthy man who kisses her hand, asks her to dance, dares to smile at her. It makes his blood boil beneath his flesh, any of them thinking that Myrcella could be theirs. Moreso the thought that she might want any of them in return. He has to know. He has to ask her. When she slips away from the crowd for the first time tonight, he follows. ❝ Miss me, Princess ? ❞ Harry says as he steps into the solar behind her, closing the door before her guards can see him sneak inside. He waits for the moment their eyes meet again to continue. ❝ I'm guessin' my invitation got lost in transit. ❞

[aeg3n]

♔ ⊱ @myrc3lla ⊱ our muses dance together for the first time

ㅤㅤㅤTHINGS HAD GONE BETTER THAN HE'D EXPECTED FOR A WEDDING THROWN TOGETHER IN A DAY. There will be a far more grand event held once they have their peace, but this is war, and the longer they go unwed, the more they risk. Myrcella was right about that, but of course, she always is. She's made a beautiful bride of herself as well, but he never doubted that she would; she's always beautiful , and he would have married her in rags if needed. But no, the princess is a vision in ivory silk and gold. A sight that would have belonged in the Great Sept of Baelor, if only the structure still stood. Aegon is a contrast in his black and red. The best suit he owns, though without the mail underlay this time around. Despite the short notice, Storm's End has come alive as well, gathering for a small celebration after their abrupt ceremony. Not quite what the wedding feast of a king and queen should be, but this smaller, more intimate gathering is admittedly less suffocating. They can focus less on appeasing their guests and more on each other.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ Had your fill of lemoncakes yet? ❞ Aegon asks his bride with a chuckle. He did promise her lemoncakes if nothing else, and he's glad he could at least provide that. ❝ I'm sorry I could not give you a proper wedding as of yet, nor a feast befitting a queen. ❞ He will make up for it the moment he has the chance, but for now, this is what they needed to do. He could not leave her behind with only an unfulfilled promise again. The sounds of music and merriment fill the hall, and the prince rises to his feet, beckoning Myrcella with an offered hand. ❝ I would like to dance with my wife, if she'll join me. ❞

[northsballadmoved]

❛ i know that look, eyes always seeking. ❜ ― @myrc3lla.

it is not such a difficult feat for the princess to take note of sansa's unease; where she usually dons a mask of polite indifference, she has remained on high alert in this crowd. not so dissimilar from her dear lady, that sharp amber gaze roving the crowd as the firelight glows brighter & the chatter grows livelier. winterfell hasn't been this full in ages -- and it is for no celebratory matter. they host refugees and soldiers, all waiting warily for the tide to crash down upon them. she has scarcely touched her chalice, as if a single moment to avert her attention elsewhere could spell disaster. . . . however, begrudgingly, she reaches for it now that myrcella has pointed out her demeanor, flitting her eyes to the young woman with a subtle arch of her brows.

❝ is that so? ❞ lips curl around the corner of her cup, reaching for some semblance of civility. ❝ is it familiar to you, princess? ❞ the title feels strange in her mouth. they are both so far from who they once were.

[rosecrowned]

♡ ⊱ @myrc3lla ⊱ s.c.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ IT'S GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK IN KING'S LANDING, YOUR GRACE. ❞ Even better to see that perhaps the princess and her mother are not quite as aligned as they once were, if the whispers prove true. If Margaery is to make a new ally in Myrcella, she must start now, before Cersei has a chance to dig her claws into the young woman again. ❝ You must come to brunch with me! We are sisters now, we should not remain strangers. ❞

[sigilsins]

f/m spicy image prompt, 17A — for @myrc3lla from osmund strong

Osmund  fits  his  hands  on  her  slim  waist,  helping  hold  her  semi-aloft  above  his  body,  feeling  her  legs  quiver  as  she  rubs  his  cock  against  herself,  though  her  hips  moving  somewhat  disjointedly  as  she  chases  sensations,  he  slides  between  her  sensitive,  slick  folds  so  easily.  The  sight  is  enough  alone,  causing  his  chest  to  tighten  as  he  meets  her  movements,  moaning  on  exhales  of  breathlessness,  softly  out  of  wariness  of  being  overheard  by  chance.  "Gods,  if  you  could  see  yourself..."  Osmund  trails  into  another  sound  of  pleasure  as  her  fingers  brush  the  head  of  his  cock,  gliding  herself  along  his  length  quicker  and  letting  out  the  most  heavenly  sounds,  "so  fucking  divine,  look  at  you,  Myrcella,  a  sweet  golden  maiden."

He  runs  swords-man  hands  over  her  thighs,  sitting  up  closer  now,  the  roughness  of  his  beard  against  her  neck  as  he  lavishes  her  skin  with  possessive  kisses,  purring  a  teasing  accusation  into  her  ear  as  he  helps  her  rock  back  and  forth:  "It  feels  good,  doesn't  it;  rubbing  that  perfect  cunt  against  me,  making  a  mess  on  my  cock?"  He  tenderly  runs  his  fingers  through  her  hair,  keeping  it  off  her  face  so  she  her  face  isn't  obscured  by  the  yellow  locks, he doesn't want her hiding away.    Osmund's constant, attentive  touches across Myrcella's skin  contrast  to  the  commanding  notes  in  his  tone  as  he  continues,  "Remember  what  I  said,  princess?"  Osmund  prompts of  his  earlier  words,  before  clothes  had  been  stripped  from  their  bodies,  before  he  coaxed  her  atop  him,  —  "I told you to do  whatever  makes  this  heavenly  little  body  of  yours  feel  proper  pleasure,  as  long  as  you  let  me  see  you."

[seirudy]

@myrc3lla: I want you all to myself.

𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄. taking her words and thinking them over. he was a prince. he could more or less do as he pleased ... but that wasn't the sort of man he wished to be. he'd greatly admired those men he had met in his life who remained loyal to their wives , even in the presence of an arranged marriage. while their union was meant to be an arranged one , baelon had managed to reach feelings that went beyond the amicable union they were expected to enter in on. now it was feelings of desire. desire to get to know every facate that made up the beautiful , smart , and charming young woman that stood before him.

' just as i want you all to myself , my little doe. ' he offered a smile. a comforting gaze looking down upon her , reflecting on times when he had heard other lords and knights speak about her , and in a rare occasion for the prince , had made it plenty aware that was not to be tolerated in his presence. he got his point across , as well as learning that he too , wanted her all to himself. ' i want for not other to look upon you the way that i do. and this wait ... it is certainly driving me mad. '

[king7doms]

@myrc3lla continued from X

Accepting Myrcella into his war camp had been advised against, by his lords and his mother, but she had come on her own, and even without the political advantage of having one of Cersei Lannister's children under their eye, with no where to go and no way to get there, he would have permitted her to stay, not as a prisoner but a guest. He would keep her safe, an honored guest, but there was still a war to be fought as they moved towards King's Landing, and another battle was on the horizon. The night had been long, planning going into the early hours, and his armor grew heavier with each battle, though they had won each battle. The bloodstains washed out of the metal, but the cloth would bear the marks of dead men until the war ended, and he could spare to burn the pieces. Her presence as he donned the armor was calming, her approach with her favor truly helped to steady him. The kiss surprised him more than anything. The favor was a kind gesture, particularly since he had been quite the kind jailor (in his own not-so humble opinion), but the kiss? Despite his attempts not to, he could not help the feels he'd developed for her over the past few months, her time in his camp spent mostly with him, as he did not trust a Baratheon ward to be under any other's guard. She, of course, had her own tent, her own ladies to attend her, but her time was oft spent with him, though not when he went over war strategy. So the kiss? Welcomed, but shocking. "It will return to you undamaged." Tucked by his breastplate, secured under his armor, he would be sure it, and he would return. Now though, his heart raced, his breath was caught by her sudden act. "Your favor might be what saves me in battle, Princess." For he was King in the North, she was still a Princess of King's Landing, the other Kingdoms

[nxthero]

✧ ⊱ @myrc3lla ⊱ 100 INDULGENT TROPES

ㅤㅤㅤEVERYONE SAID SHE WAS A SWEET GIRL. A gentle Baratheon princess who would quietly comply. Yet Harry sees the lioness come out in her unexpectedly; an astonished, blinking stare given as the flat of her palm stings across his cheek. ( Did she just . . . slap him ? ) Worse men would have had her hand for it. His father certainly would have. But Harry is not his father. His hand touches along the hollow of his cheek, almost in disbelief, silent as he considers how to react. ( She has quite the swing, he'll give her that. ) Mouth opens to speak, but there's another slap that leaves him quiet. The first one may have been passed off as a spirited reaction. The second one? He's as amused as he is frustrated.

ㅤㅤㅤHarry won't allow her to catch him off-guard again. He sees that hand rear back once more, and as the princess is mid-swing, his own raises to catch hers at the wrist before she can strike him again. The other is similarly captured as she struggles to free the first, steps taken to force her backward, a firm grip raising her arms to pin them above her head when her back meets the wall. The rest of his body is used to press against hers, allowing no space for her to kick him, either, should she make an attempt. ❝ Is this how a princess says hello? ❞ Regardless of the circumstances, there is no ill intent in Harry's eyes. A fact he would have already made clear had she not struck him twice, but admittedly, the present situation is far more entertaining to him. Head tilts forward, bemused at the thought that no bastard like him would ever be allowed this close to a trueborn daughter under normal circumstances. ❝ Are you done? ❞ the pirate whispers beneath a smirk, teasing. ❝ I might let you smack me around more later, if you ask nicely. ❞

[aeg3n]

♔ ⊱ @myrc3lla ⊱ In a room where anyone can walk in. + When they pin your hands above your head and take complete control.

ㅤㅤㅤHE  REALIZES  FAR  TOO  LATE  THAT  HE  NEVER  LOCKED  EITHER  OF  THE  DOORS.  How  eager  he  had  been  to  show  his  wife  her  new  parlor,  and  to  christen  it,  that  so  many  intricacies  have  been  forgotten  in  his  lust-addled  mind.  Yet  it  does  not  stop  him.  If  anything,  the  knowledge  only  serves  to  entice  him  further.  He'd  built  the  new  royal  apartments  at  Storm's  End  as  a  symbol  of  his  love  and  devotion  to  her;  why  should  he  fret  if  someone  should  see  him  showing  his  appreciation  in  another  way?  It's  not  like  the  whole  castle  hasn't  heard  them  by  now,  anyhow.

ㅤㅤㅤAegon  has  her  splayed  before  the  hearth;  a  tall  masterpiece  of  stone  carved  with  an  artist's  work,  painted  blue  and  inlaid  with  gold  as  most  pieces  in  the  room  are.  A  living  work  of  art.  Just  as  she  is.  No  other  display  could  have  been  grand  enough  for  him  to  express  what  she  means  to  him  other  than  to  surround  her  with  beauty  for  the  rest  of  her  life.  He  is  not  fast  this  time  as  he  usually  would  be;  slow,  punctuated  strokes  given  as  he  thrusts  into  her,  his  indigo  eyes  never  leaving  her  own.  He  needs  her  to  see  it,  to  feel  it  in  every  movement,  how  deep  his  passion  for  her  goes.  Aegon  hikes  her  bunched  skirts  further  up  her  waist  driving  harder  into  her  as  he  shifts  the  angle  of  his  hips.  His  hands  guide  her  thighs,  spreading  them  wider  as  he  sinks  himself  deeper  into  her  wet  heat.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ Avy  jorrāelan,  ❞  he  groans,  the  timber  of  his  voice  almost  a  growl,  taking  one  of  her  hands  and  moving  it  above  her  head.  Every  word  is  drenched  in  need,  a  break  in  his  pitch  as  he  repeats  in  the  common  tongue,  ❝ I  love  you.  I  love  you.  ❞  Aegon  takes  Myrcella's  other  hand,  pinning  it  above  her  head  as  well,  his  own  holding  her  by  her  wrists.  He  kisses  her  then,  sloppy  and  wanton  before  desire  brings  him  downward,  dragging  his  lips  over  the  hollow  of  her  neck  to  her  exposed  breasts,  tasting  the  salt  of  her  sweat  as  his  tongue  roams  from  the  bottom  of  that  tender  hill  up  over  a  nipple.  ❝ My  princess.  This  is  our  home  now,  ❞  he  captures  the  stiffened  bud,  sucking  until  it  reddens  beneath  his  teasing  tongue.  ❝ And  I  intend  to  have  you  everywhere.  ❞

[n0rthrnk1ng]

"Can I steal a little more of your side? I'm feeling cramped here." ; @myrc3lla

HE'D ALMOST FOUND SLEEP WHEN SHE SPOKE. He found he slept better when she was there sharing his bed. He knew his mother wouldn't approve , but he figured it was high time that he stop worrying about what she thought. He loved Myrcella , he wanted to give her all the happiness and safety that was in his power to do. Inhaling sharply , he perks awake , looking to her when what she had asked processed , and the sleepy , confused look , soon shifted to a playful smile as he pulled her into his arms , holding her against him while he lay on his side. "How's this? Do you have enough room now Princess?"

[northsballadmoved]

@myrc3lla ― ❝ what? no one mentioned the impending doom part. ❞

 ‍ sansa tries not to sigh. and to her credit, only a mild amount of her exhaustion shows in the carefully controlled muscles of her expression; lips pressing thin, a droop of her gaze as the breath expels quietly from her nose. the north, sansa, hardly needed the stress of housing a runaway princess on top of everything else. yet she does. she had given myrcella a room, warmed and fed her, and tends to her other whims ( when logical ) with only silent complaints. she could have done a lot worse for myrcella. ( she doesn't. she would never even think of it. )

 ‍ ❝ then you will hear it soon enough. ❞ she begins to walk further along the balcony overlooking the inner ward, which has now been turned into a yard full of blacksmithing, soldiers practicing arming, and smallfolk seeking shelter, indicating for the girl to follow with a small incline of her head. ❝ you chose an unfitting time to seek shelter here, princess. we are preparing for war. not with your mother and her lannister forces, or the dragon queen settled on the shores of dragonstone, or traitors. we are fighting winter, ❞ she does sigh here, resting gloved hands on the railing to eye the clatter below. ❝ and the ones who drive it. the others. difficult as it may be to believe. ❞

 ‍ sansa still isn't entirely sure that she believes it herself. but she trusts jon, and she knows him too well now to believe him a liar or madman.

[elenaesmoved]

what tragic horror trope are you?

the witch. people need to find blame wherever they can; it makes the bad things in their life feel just a touch more bearable. the witches are so often blamed for the curses others are under that no one even questions it anymore. you point to a supposed witch and everyone else prepares the stake, no matter their innocence. to be born and believed a witch is one of the worst curses of them all- you can have friends and family, but there's always a dread that someday, someone will point to you, and everyone you once trusted will throw you into the pyre. if you're here, reading this, you've probably been burned before. and i don't blame you for wanting to hide away, to really become the witch they all say you are, to curse them. but to be a witch is to brush your fingertips over the bark of a tree and watch it grow a touch stronger. keep that in mind.

tagged by: @fuckedcowboy 🤍 tagging: @salvatoraes, @forbaes, @birdrule, @sarcasticsnackpack, @walkeddeath, @agedrot, @saralans, @timerevolt, @myrc3lla and anyone else who'd like to ^^

[sigilsins]

ᴸᴵᴺᴷ‧ ships.

[seirudy]

@myrc3lla: Ever since I met you, no one else has been worth thinking about.

time seemed to stand still when he was with myrcella. he could hardly be bothered with other matters around him the more time he spent with her. the young man was a hopeless romantic at his core , but he hadn't fallen as hard and fast for a maiden as he had for her. while he hadn't been overjoyed with the prospect of an arranged marriage to begin with ... it hadn't taken long at all for the prince to be taken with the lady , much to his father's delight. sitting there with her , he couldn't help but smile at her sudden declaration.

' this pleases me to hear. ' he answered. his smile lingering as he gazed back across from the sofa where they sat. ' for now i know i am not alone in my hopeless fate. '

[west1rosi]

ok they don't have carrds (YET) but they are made:

jaime (kingsl2yer)

robb (northswulf)

myrcella (myrc3lla)

sara snow (northsborn)