Folklore Set - Claude Monet

Folklore set - Claude Monet

If you’re interested in seeing my work more regularly, consider following me on twitter at lunwil! I just had to post my new burgundian sansa stark on here this once though 🌟 

Game of Thrones  |  1x08 - “The Pointy End”

Chapter 2: In the Sight of God's and Men

It was a funny thing, really, knowing that come the next morning one’s role in the world would be entirely changed. She had left King’s Landing and come to Winterfell knowing this day would come, but it had always felt so distant, so beyond her. No matter how many years passed, it had always felt as if this day was years away, and now that the day was here it still felt as though it was years away.

She sat up in her bed, wiping the sleep out of her eyes and stretching. A flash of blue caught her eye and she turned to see the winter roses Robb had given her the night before, after he walked her to her rooms. “I won’t be able to give them to you on the morrow, if Sansa has her way” he had said. He had given her a sweet kiss before heading towards his own rooms, leaving her blushing and her stomach full of butterflies. 

He’s a fool, she thought fondly. My fool.

Robb was always so sweet to her, going out of his way to gift her flowers or the honey cakes she was fond of. She laughed to think of how they had despised each other as children. They would argue for days and try to outdo each other on the training yard, where Robb would usually win. But overtime their rivalry turned friendly, and their friendship turned to a love she was ever thankful for. 

What would I have done if we continued to hate each other? Would the betrothal have been broken? She doubted it. Her grandfather had never been concerned for her happiness here, only caring that she did her duty and played her role for the family. 

There’s naught to worry over, however. For if Robb is a fool for her then she is certainly a fool for him. The time she spent embroidering with Sansa and Jeyne was often spent working on something or other for Robb. A new jerkin or a pretty handkerchief in Stark colours, or perhaps mending clothes which had torn in the training yard. Clothes she had likely torn with her own sword in a spar that had been a tad bit too competitive. 

She took her time, choosing to dress herself and enjoy her last morning as a maiden in peace. I’ll be married this evening, and my mornings will no longer be so alone. She knew the Lord and Lady Stark shared a bedchamber and she wondered if Robb would wish to do the same. She wouldn’t mind. Despite the heated walls of Winterfell she often found herself chilled at night, still unused to the cold. A problem she had solved by spending the night with Sansa or Arya, but that would be out of the question once she was married. 

She supposed she wouldn’t mind Robb’s company, either. 

continued on AO3

folklore/evermore songs as vintage posters

Nothing is sexier than the DUNE books asking you to understand crazy sci-fi jargon in the first paragraph, like bene gesserit, muad'dib, mentat, arakkis, melange, and quizat haderach and then after reading all of that shit that makes no fucking sense, you meet our main character: Paul.