#(there must always be a Brandon in Winterfell)

[queen-of-andor]

The first asoiaf chapter is from Bran's pov( Starks' second son), showing us his first time he attended a public execution and the lessons his father, Ned ( another Stark second son), taught him. And then the chapter ends when the direwolves ( the family's sigil) are found.

I love that Martin is subtly setting Bran up to become heir of Winterfell from the very beginning.

[branwinged]

i say this as a catelyn enjoyer, catelyn's hatred of jon is not particularly rational in the sense that it doesn't hinge on jon's own personal character. like some of it is borne out of wider prejudice regarding bastards (socially stigmatised as treacherous and grasping of their trueborn siblings' rights) of course, but the thing that hurts her most is what jon's presence in the household symbolically represents. and it's not the infidelity, it's the perpetual reminder of the disenfranchised position of women in their society and how little agency she truly has in her marriage and in the wider social sphere. the thing about catelyn's character is that she might be the conforming lady archetype, but she's also written to be very much aware of how disadvantaged women are in westeros.

"I might have been able to trade the Kingslayer for Father, but . . ." ". . . but not for the girls?" Her voice was icy quiet. "Girls are not important enough, are they?" Catelyn I, ACOK Is this my punishment for opposing him about Jon Snow? Or for being a woman, and worse, a mother? Catelyn V, ASOS “Father,” she said, “Father, I know what you did.” She was no longer an innocent bride with a head full of dreams. She was a widow, a traitor, a grieving mother, and wise, wise in the ways of the world. “You made him take her,” she whispered. “Lysa was the price Jon Arryn had to pay for the swords and spears of House Tully.” Catelyn I, ASOS Brienne looked at her with those blue and beautiful eyes. “As ladies die in childbed. No one sings songs about them.” “Children are a battle of a different sort.” Catelyn started across the yard. “A battle without banners or warhorns, but no less fierce. Catelyn VI, ACOK

^ these are not the words of someone who's content with her lot in life or has made perfect peace with the rules of westeros's feudal patriarchy. brienne and catelyn are both acknowledging the thankless role women are made to play. "no longer an innocent bride" / "wise in the ways of the world" has a certain misery to it, considering the topic at hand is hoster's abominable treatment of lysa for transgressing social norms. even a sentiment such as - "Pity filled Catelyn's heart. Is there any creature on earth as unfortunate as an ugly woman?", is not coming from a place of scorn or thoughtlessness, but from knowing too well how cruelly their world treats women, how brienne's appearance would affect her marriage prospects.

“Our duty.” Catelyn’s face was drawn as she started across the yard. I have always done my duty, she thought. [...] I gave Brandon my favor to wear, and never comforted Petyr once after he was wounded, nor bid him farewell when Father sent him off. And when Brandon was murdered and Father told me I must wed his brother, I did so gladly, though I never saw Ned’s face until our wedding day. I gave my maidenhood to this solemn stranger and sent him off to his war and his king and the woman who bore him his bastard, because I always did my duty. Catelyn VI, ACOK

there's such clear resignation here, this is not how you talk if you're proud to have done your duty, if you feel you were actually rewarded for having done it. and duty here means meeting the unforgiving expectations of westeros's feudal patriarchy. if sansa's chapters are about growing out of that conditioning by realising that there is no reward to be found here, then catelyn's chapters are about showing the personal cost of having lived your entire life internalising those ideals. her house words being 'family, duty, honor' is a very deliberate character choice.

so it's not just that ned cheated on her, but that he unanimously made the decision to install jon at their home and catelyn's feelings were allowed no say in the matter, that it happened even before she was able to step foot in winterfell with robb is another blow. she had just been exchanged as goods from one (dead) brother to another and she was supposed to be okay with all this, like the most natural thing in the world because her house words were drilled into her since childhood. but we know she wasn't. she stamped down that resentment out of duty, because he's her lord husband and she was to obey him, but that pain and the alienation for having done her duty was going somewhere. openly resenting her husband or her father is not a socially allowed option, so all that resentment gets unfairly taken out on jon, someone she has authority over. and i think identifying the major cause of that hatred as her frustrations with westoros's patriarchal ideals is important because that means knowing the truth of jon's parentage wouldn't have changed anything. that ned kept such a thing from her and again, unanimously made the decision to commit treason without consulting catelyn, is once again simply telling her that she has no control in this marriage, that her judgement is both unasked for and not valued.

[ghostinwinterfell]

“And when Brandon was murdered and Father told me I must wed his brother, I did so gladly, though I never saw Ned’s face until our wedding day. I gave my maidenhood to this solemn stranger and sent him off to his war and his king and the woman who bore him his bastard, because I always did my duty.” (ACOK, Catelyn VI)

given catelyn’s overwhelming sense of duty, it’s no wonder that she was so resentful about ned raising jon at winterfell. as a highborn woman, she did everything that she was “supposed” to do, and it still wasn’t enough.

the man who she’s been betrothed to since age twelve is suddenly murdered? she honors that betrothal by marrying his brother (a complete stranger). she has one night with her new husband before he rides off to war again? she gives him a son and an heir. her husband leaves her alone at riverrun in the middle of a war, knowing that defeat could be the end of their new family? she raises their baby alone for months.

but when catelyn finally arrives at her new home (in a completely unfamiliar region), she finds that jon is already there. after everything that she sacrifices in the name of duty, it still isn’t enough. in her mind, ned would rather be with another woman. catelyn doesn’t even have the chance to get to know him before she’s designated as a second choice. not only second to this mystery woman, but second to jon, who is settled in winterfell before catelyn even arrives with robb.

and what’s worse, ned won’t even tell her who this mystery woman is and forbids her from ever asking him. he gets to stray from his duty and impose his son on her without consequence, but she must continue to play the “dutiful” wife and tolerate it. she has no say in who occupies her home or who gets to be around her own children.

in other words, jon is a constant reminder to catelyn that her best will never be enough.

[the-fiction-witch]

Secret

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Cregan Stark Couple - Cregan X Reader Reader - Y/n (Unseen) Rating - 12 Word Count - 771

Cregan sat as he so often did these days. He lay in the godswood of Winterfell reading one of his history books under the shadow of a tall heart tree. He read about the legacy of the starks, how they rose from the first men to kings of winter, the raising of the wall and of Winterfell, the ancient and beautiful ways the starks was interwoven with the north, how winter is coming and there must always be a stark in Winterfell.

But a small voice broke him from his reading, "Papa." The source of the voice was young Lady Lillianna Stark, Cregan's daughter. Stood in her little grey dress with her ragdoll firmly squeezed between her arms.

Cregan put his book down, he got on one knee and opened his arms out with a smile,

She happily jumped into his arms squeezing her father with all her tiny might.

He let out a little laugh, "you look lovely today, my darling," he said, “What is it I can do for such a little lady?”

"Mama…mama said… you have to go see Brandon… And ask him why he's in trouble." She sheepishly said running her fingers through the hair of her ragdoll hair as she quoted her mother,

"Did she now?" he chuckled, “I should go find your brother and see what the fuss is about," he gently put her down and got to his feet,

Lillianna pouted slightly as she looked up to the very tall Cregan disappointed of course that her father was to go,

"You can may with me if you’d like?" He offered his daughter his hand which she took immediately,

Lillianna happily skipped with her ragdoll behind Cregan as they went to the castle yard where Brandon was training with the castle master at arms Ser Willem,

Cregan ended the sparing and approached his son Brandon, "Your mother tells me you're in trouble, care to tell me why?" Cregan said,

"it's nothing!" Brandon tries to dismiss,

Cregan raised an eyebrow, "Really? So if I ask Ser Willem I'll get a different answer?"

Brandon groaned, "I just like feedin’ him!"

"Whom exactly?" he asked,

"… fluffy. The cat. Mother found me sneaking him in my room."

he couldn't help laughing, "I understand that you want to help him, but he’s a castle cat meant to bite at rats and mice from the shadows not lay around in your bed. That is no good for both of you, I’m sure he has a life down in the catacombs like many of the cats." He knelt to be level with Brandon, "Would you like it if one day you go to play with a friend and they were gone?" He said softly,

"… I know, but he comes and visits every meal! He sits outside my bedroom door meowing all night! I just want to keep him safe and warm under my bed."

Cregan knew his son was going to be stubborn about this, he gave a gentle smile and stroked his young son's cheek. "he's probably cold, isn't he? The only problem with that my darling is that he might bring things you don't want to see into your room"

"I don't care I'll clean up some dead mice! Fluffy’s my friend!"

he sighed "All alright, but it's just you and me who know. We won't tell Mama, she can't know okay" he put out his finger as if to offer his son to shake his finger to seal the deal,

Brandon shook fingers and agreed but his eyes turned to Lillianna who was glaring at her big brother like the little snitch she was.

Cregan quickly looked at Lillianna, "will you keep our secret?"

Lillianna agreed opening her hand and expecting a treat for such compliance

Cregan laughed at his little daughter's bribery, he took a sweet out of his pocket "Here you are my little lady" he gave her the sweet she wanted and stroked her head,

She giggled and happily ran off with her doll,

"Absolutely bribery." Brandon rolled his eyes and then held his hand wanting a sweet too,

"you're too big for a treat, little man," Cregan said with a chuckle but gave his son the sweet anyway, "don't tell your mother though, she'll skin me alive" Cregan warned his son before giving him a playful punch on his shoulder

Brandon happily ran off to continue his training sweet in hand

Cregan laughed and sighed, he knew neither would, in truth, be able to keep the secret for more than a week, and he’d be in a far better position if he just went and told his wife now. So he gathered his courage and headed inside to find Y/n.

[claymoresword]

Come Out And Haunt Me

Cersei Lannister x Catelyn Tully Stark

Summary: When her raven goes unanswered, queen Cersei Lannister decides to pay the Starks a visit herself.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Disclaimers: omegaverse, alpha!cersei, omega!catelyn, cheating, angst & fluff, robert baratheon does not exist

Note: hi! so i initially only planned to post this on Ao3 but I've decided to share it here as well

honestly not sure what this is i just had a random burst of energy one night and decided to write it lol

to all 2 of you who clicked on this, welcome! hope you enjoy <3

The parchment clutched tightly in her hands, Catelyn skims the letter once more. As though dwelling would make a difference to the words already etched into the page.

An egregious insult.

Nine years; Catelyn had been forced to wallow in the harsh and cold North. Nine years and she had just managed to find a sort of peace amidst her sorrow.

Ned no longer insists on sharing her bed and her children, aside for Rickon, have all outgrown her attention.

She is finally comfortable.

Perhaps even happy.

Now the queen intends to summon her to King's Landing– like a dog.

The alpha is as bold as she is cruel.

I am not meant to be Hand any more than Cersei is fit to be queen.

Catelyn traces the crimson seal with the pad of her thumb, a war raging within her.

It is a cruel jape, even after everything, she still yearns to be in the alpha's presence once more.

To thread her fingers through golden curls, look upon delicate features in which time has certainly only made more beautiful.

Catelyn scoffs at her own feebleness, she harshly wipes the tears that have already began drying upon her cheeks.

This is all folly.

The omega allows her eyes flutter shut for a moment; she banishes Cersei from her mind.

Wringing the letter in her hands as she rises from her seat, Catelyn storms towards the hearth, eventually feeding the crumpled parchment to the fire.

Cersei Lannister; ever delicate and enchanting. The worst person Catelyn has ever met, once the love of her life.

This is what it has come to; for all of her sins, the Gods see fit to mock her.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

A month has come and gone since the queen sent a raven, and Catelyn is content with the knowledge that Cersei has taken her silence for an answer.

She will not go to King's Landing. She cannot set eyes on the queen once more– for the omega is certain she will not survive it.

"Brandon Stark! How many times must I tell you? No climbing." Catelyn exclaims, she watches her son descend clumsily from the roof.

Bran appears unfazed by his mother's warnings, as always. A genial expression covers his features; the careless joy of a young boy.

"I just saw hundreds of people riding down our road." The boy exclaims amidst a grunt, hoisting himself off the parapet before finally landing on his feet in front of his mother. "I saw a large wheelhouse, with horses.. and men in armor."

"It must be your uncle Benjen and his men who have come to visit your father again." Catelyn decides, but her son pays her no mind as he continues.

"They were carrying crimson banners, with a lion–” Catelyn's expression falls at his son's words. Suddenly she senses a gnawing in her belly, as though she might wretch.

"What did you say– about the banner?" The omega asks as she grabs her son by the shoulder, urging him to look up at her.

"It was crimson, with a yellow lion." Bran repeats as he stares at his mother.

"–Lannisters." Maester Luwin emerges, overhearing their exchange. "Is it possible the queen has come to Winterfell?"

The man asks as he searches Catelyn's expression; she has gone quiet, all colour drained from her face.

"My Lady.." Maester Luwin then attempts to coax a response, with a light hand on Catelyn's forearm.

It restores Cat to her senses just enough to muster a single sentence. "Please, inform my Lord husband. Tell him, the queen is on her way."

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Catelyn smooths out her gown for the dozenth time, not having been given much option or time, she was forced to don a dark blue gown, one that her Lord husband often insists match her eyes.

Although the dye on the fabric has now faded, and the sleeves wrinkled– but it matters not. Most of her dress remains covered by her sheepskin cloak.

Nearly all of her dresses always are. The weather in the North does not warrant beauty, only practicality.

Catelyn breath catches in her throat as she observes the queen's approach. Cersei leads the assembly on a gold and white palfrey, she halts infront of the gates before dismounting her horse with grace.

It is no secret that the years have since done its work on them both. The queen is no longer the young woman she had served at court, the same way Catelyn is no longer a girl of ten and five.

Cersei wears a few wrinkles around her eyes, yet, her beauty remains as ethereal as Catelyn remembers it to be. More than anything, the sight of the alpha makes her ache; she has no choice but to focus her gaze elsewhere.

“Winterfell is yours, Your Grace.” Ned declares after placing a chaste kiss on the back of the queen's hand.

He remains kneeling on the ground as Cersei studies him. She regards him with a piercing emerald stare before instructing him to rise.

“I hope you can forgive my sudden attendance, I have rather urgent business with your wife.” The queen avows, not appearing to be sorry at all.

Whilst Ned is visibly taken aback by Cersei's declaration, any doubt or query he may have on the matter– he keeps to himself.

The Lord of Winterfell steps aside as the queen swiftly turns her attention towards his wife.

“My queen.” Catelyn greets the golden haired woman with a curtsey. The omega only manages to hold Cersei's gaze for a heartbeat before once again, willing herself to look elsewhere.

The alpha moves to reach for Catelyn's hand, but as though just only recalling the importance of propriety, she stops herself.

Cersei is not given a chance to do much else before her wife falls in next to her.

Taena smiles brightly as she envelopes Catelyn within her embrace, without much warning. “Cat, it's been far too long!” The Myrish woman exclaims.

Catelyn feigns a smile of her own, out of courtesy, she embraces the queen consort in return.

“You are just glowing.” Taena states as she breaks away to look at her. Catelyn soon feels a hand upon her cheek.

The omega wears a bashful expression; one that is just as contrived as the other woman's attempt at a compliment.

She gently pries Taena's hand away from her face. “You are far too gracious.. you look well yourself, Your Grace.”

Taena sighs, as though she wishes for Catelyn's words to be true. “Oh, please, I look a fright.”

“We have been travelling for weeks.” She adds, and the glare Taena throws at her wife calls attention to the barely concealed asperity within her tone.

Yet, Cersei only smiles in return, no doubt her way of retaliating to Taena's grievance is to simply ignore it entirely.

She addresses Ned instead. “My Lady wife and I hope to lay in a proper bed tonight.”

“Of course, Your Grace. We have rooms enough to accommodate you both.. and your children, if it please you.” Ned states curtly as he ushers the queen through the gates.

“Good, I look forward to seeing your castle.”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

After a busy morning, Catelyn had decided to lock herself away in her solar for the remainder of the day. In truth, aside for a desperate solution to escaping the queen and her lady wife– solitude was also the only way Catelyn could avoid Ned's incessant questioning.

Of course his confusion is warranted, and her husband means well, to be sure, Ned always does– but Catelyn cannot stand to lie to him anymore.

-

As the lady of Winterfell sits by her window, she manages to get a view of Bran and Arya, currently playing in the yard; their direwolf pups by their feet.

The queen’s children have since joined them. Tommen and Myrcella are no doubt every bit like their mothers, both with emerald green eyes of the Lannisters and olive skinned like their Myrish mother.

The sight of their children playing together strikes Catelyn as something that was painfully ironic. In fact, it was nearly amusing, in a rather bleak way.

Lost in her thoughts, the omega fails to hear the latch on the door behind her.

The oak doors open, and soon shuts. It is only when Catelyn notices shuffling behind her that she turns around to inspect the cause.

“Are you hiding from me?” Cersei asks. with her question, she tilts her head slightly. The same way she used to when they were mere children together.

The sight unsettles Catelyn in a way she does not care to acknowledge. She scrambles to her feet, hugging her robe around her slender frame.

"Your Grace. I- no, I'm just not well." She tells a half-truth and she prays for a miracle.

Catelyn hopes, stupidly, that the other woman will decide to leave her alone, without much interrogation.

"Are you ill?" Cersei asks, as expected, approaching her.

The alpha's tone of genuine concern only makes Catelyn want to weep, but she shakes her head, forcibly suppressing the urge. "It must be something I ate." She lies.

"Oh, then you must rest.” Cersei suggests in response, a smirk tugging on the corners of her mouth.

The omega's brows furrow at the sight. She mocks me. Catelyn observes.

The lady of Winterfell decides she no longer possesses the will for feigned courtesies. All she has the strength to do now is stare at the other woman, unamused.

This works to unnerve the queen slightly, as though thrown off balance, Cersei clears her throat.

The alpha averts her gaze before resting her hand on the hilt of her longsword, assuming a confident stance once more.

“Have you given any thought to my proposal?” Cersei finally states it plainly, and Catelyn scoffs in response.

The alpha possesses just enough audacity to appear confused by the other woman's reaction. “What?”

“Stop that. Don't pretend as though you have given me a choice.” Catelyn hisses, and she watches as Cersei opens her mouth to retaliate, but she swiftly cuts off the attempt.

“If that was true, you would not be here.” Cat challenges and Cersei merely shrugs, unconcerned yet dignified.

The queen always does so in a way that managed to make others seem small, inconsequential.

It was infuriating.

“Come to King's Landing, serve as my Hand.” “and you should take Sansa, our daughter will do well in the capital.” Cersei renders aloud as she advances forward.

Now standing close enough that Catelyn can smell the lavender oil in her hair.

“Such beauty shouldn't stay hidden up here.” Cersei continues, reaching up to caress the omega's cheek.

Catelyn stiffens and then sighs involuntarily against her touch. Once again she feels the urge to weep, to scream. The omega wants to lean in and kiss the other woman, to feel her warm embrace.

Instead, she slaps her hand away, bristling. “Don't. do not do that.”

“and don't call her your daughter.. as if you have ever been a sire to her.” She mutters, a scowl covers Catelyn's features as she tries to slip past the alpha.

Although Cersei quickly catches her by the arm before she can go far at all, forcing a proximity between them once more.

"You know that I regret– I regret how it all ended between us.” The queen utters, her voice low, only for Catelyn to hear.

The sincerity in which Cersei speaks her sweet words does nothing to douse the rage within her.

Years of longing and wanting for a woman that has no regard for her honor, no respect for her feelings. Cersei has been nothing if not careless with her; with her heart.

Catelyn does not believe a word the alpha says– she cannot allow herself to.

“Do you?” She challenges, her jaw clenched in anger.

“Nine years without a word from you.. not so much as a raven.” She adds with a raised voice, though Cersei appears entirely unfazed by it, this time her arm slips around Catelyn's waist.

“Don't touch me.” She tries, attempting to wriggle out of the alpha's hold, but it is no use.

"I missed you.. I wanted to write to you, I truly did.” Cersei reveals, cupping the other woman's cheek once more.

“I just thought–”

“What?” Catelyn provokes, unsatisfied.

“You thought what?” Despite herself, she feels her eyes begin to well with tears.

“You told me you loved me... I gave myself to you, and then you chose her.”

Cersei own expression shifts at the other woman's declaration. She wipes away the omega's tears with the pads of her thumbs tenderly.

“I had no choice.” The queen insists, her tone gentle and sincere– almost vulnerable.

“I assume you are happier.. with your husband.” Cersei alleges, and Catelyn feels the urge to laugh in her face.

“How could you possibly think that?” She questions, and Cersei acknowledges the mistake she had made, at long last.

“Forgive me.. I never meant to hurt you.” The queen articulates, threading her fingers through auburn locks.

Catelyn allows herself to lean into the other woman's touch, her brows still furrowed as she speaks. “Well, you did. You broke my heart.”

The omega attempts to shove Cersei away once more, but still, she refuses to budge.

The alpha is stronger, and far more determined.

“I know, I am sorry.” The queen says again, this time she boldly kisses the shell of Catelyn's ear.

As the omega continues to try and fight out of her hold, Cersei kisses her again, this time further down, her tender lips meeting her jaw.

Catelyn shivers at the sensation, just as instinctively, she rests her hand on the nape of Cersei's neck.

“I'm sorry.” The alpha mutters once more as she kisses the corner of Catelyn's mouth.

This time, she does not fight the urge. Catelyn turns her head, capturing the other woman's lips with her own for a real kiss.

As their mouths moved against each other with aching familiarity, Cersei's hand shifts to the small of the omega's back, causing the other woman to lean further into her.

They kiss for what feels like an eternity; only breaking apart when both their lungs clamour for air.

Catelyn's face burns from the intensity of the moment, she soon wraps both her arms around the other woman properly, concealing her face in the crook of Cersei's neck.

“I despise you.” The omega mutters, almost petulantly.

Cersei merely lets out a light chuckle at that. A kind of acceptance and forbearance; a quality she truly only finds less of a challenge to display around Catelyn.

“I know.”

[lovebaela]

THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH

Chapter 2: Winter is Coming

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Pairing: °❆⋆Bran Stark x Targaryen OC .ೃ࿔*:･

CW: fem!oc, mostly fluff, and mentions of murder.꙳·❅°*˖

Rating: Mature audiences - The mature moments will happen later on. In the beginning, it will mostly just be cute fluff.⋆⁺₊❅.

(a/n) hey guys, I finally finished the masterlist so please check it out! I also recently made a ao3 account and I’ll start posting this series on there as well so stay tuned 🤍

Dividers by @sylasthegrim

UPDATED VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER IS ON WATTPAD

https://www.wattpad.com/1439924205-dragon-of-the-north-b-stark-𝐢𝐢-winter-is-coming

Once the Stark boys came back, Bran said he wanted to show Rhaella something. He took her to the kitchens to show her. To her surprise, there were puppies! “Oh my gosh!” She gushed. “Bran, they are adorable!” He picked one up saying, “This one is mine! I haven’t decided on a name yet. They’re direwolf pups! There’s enough for all of the Stark children, even Jon!”

He handed the little pup to Rhaella. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you one. Maybe, we can share mine!”

The pup licked her cheek. “I’d like that!” She giggled. She turned to Arya. “Did you name yours?”

“Sure did!” She said. “Her name is Nymeria!”

Sansa scoffed. “The name of mine will be Lady. She’s going to be well behaved and good like me.”

Arya rolled her eyes.

Robb lifted up his pup, examining it. “I think I’ll name mine Greywind.”

“That’s so cool,” Bran said, jealous.

Rickon played with his pup. “I’m going to name mine…Shaggydog!” Everyone thought that was an odd name, but didn’t say anything, fearing that they would hurt the boy’s feelings.

The preparations continued for the King’s arrival. During Rhaella’s free time, she liked exploring Winterfell and interacting with the people. Although it took a while for the people to warm up to her, she was eventually called Winterfell’s delight. She was quite similar to Bran. A loving and outgoing child.

In the courtyard, Bran was receiving history lessons from Maester Luwin. Rhaella and Arya were waiting on him to finish, doing each other’s hair. Rhaella liked teaching Arya how to braid. She looked over at Bran, who was already glancing over at her. They both waved at each other until Maester Luwin wacked Bran on the head. “You need to focus,” the Maester said. The girls laughed.

“I think he’s really starting to like you.” Arya said.

“Really?” Rhaella asked.

“Are you kidding? He’s always staring at you. And don’t tell him I told you this, but after the first dinner you had with us, he told me you were very pretty.”

That made Rhaella blush. Does he really like me? Arya could just be teasing. We both agreed to just be friends. I wonder if Robb thinks I’m cute? If only I were older I would’ve been married to him instead.

After Bran was done, he decided to go climbing the castle walls. Rhaella didn’t feel like going with him, so she stayed by Lady Catelyn’s side. Bran’s direwolf pup also followed her around. He was growing at a rapid speed. Lady Stark was quite stressed making sure everything was perfect. Especially since the Lannisters were coming.

“Brandon!” Lady Stark yelled, as they walked outside to the courtyard.

“I see the king!” He shouted. “He’s got thousands of people!”

“Get down here right now!”

Once he gracefully made his way down his mother said, “how many times must I tell you, no more climbing! Promise me!”

Bran looked down at his feet and then answered, “I promise mother.”

“I noticed something, you always look at your feet before you lie…”

Bran chuckled, not denying it.

“Go let Ned know the king is close.”

Bran took Rhaella’s hand and they took off with their direwolf chasing behind them.

The stark family stood in a line as everyone else stood behind them. Jon was to the left of me while Theon Greyjoy was to my right. The gates opened for the King to trot in with his horse. Following him was his king’s guard and a boy on horseback. That must be his son, the prince. The blonde haired boy smiled at Sansa, and she smiled back at him. One knight hopped off of his horse, and took off his helmet. He had to have been the most beautiful man Rhaella’s ever seen. He had long golden blonde hair with emerald green eyes. “Jaime Lannister, the Queen’s twin brother,” Arya said, before Sansa hushed her.

“I heard the prince was a royal prick,” Theon whispered. He, at a young age, was sent to Winterfell by his own father, Balon Greyjoy. He made the terrible mistake of crowning himself king of the iron islands and starting a war. After their loss, Theon was sent away to Winterfell to be Lord Stark’s ward. Theon always viewed himself as a prisoner.

Then, came in the carriage with the Queen inside. She exited out of the carriage, looking slightly annoyed.

“Where’s the imp?” Arya asked Sansa.

“Please, just shut up!” Sansa asked.

We all bowed before the king and Queen as they made their way to Lord Stark. The King said hello to every member of the family. He made eye contact with Rhaella. She stiffened, not knowing what to do. “My king,” she said, curtsying. He gave a simple nod, and went about his way into the crypts with Lord Stark.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jon said, messing with her hair. She let out a relieved sigh, “no, thank goodness.”

Lady Stark had Rhaella, Arya, and Sansa get ready for the feast together.

“The prince is so handsome…” Sansa said, blushing. “I can’t believe the king wants me to marry him! Can we marry now or do we have to wait?”

Her mother stopped brushing her hair, “gods Sansa, your father hasn’t even made a decision yet!”

She turned to her, “please tell him to say yes! It’s all I could ever want!”

Lady Stark nodded, “we’ll see.”

Arya rolled her eyes, “not everything is about boys.”

Rhaella finally finished making her dress. The dress was a delicate light blue with a beautiful dragon embroidered on the neckline.

“That looks amazing!” Arya said.

“Thanks, learned from the best,” Rhaella replied smiling at Sansa.

“I suck at making my dresses…” Arya said.

“You still look very beautiful,” Lady Stark said. “You all do.”

Rhaella made her way to the Great Hall for the feast. She had to sit with Jon and the stable boys. “I like the dress,” Jon said. “Made it yourself?”

Rhaella nodded with a smile. Jon’s wolf, Ghost, laid his head on Rhaella’s lap.

“I guess Ghost likes it too,” Jon laughed.

“Do you boy?” She asked the white direwolf as it wagged its tail. Ghost was the runt of the litter and albino with red eyes. Jon named him ghost because he barely makes a sound.

Everyone watched as the Stark family entered the great hall one by one after the King and Queen. A few of them walked in with the King’s children. Robb with Princess Marcella, Sansa with Prince Joffrey, and Arya with Prince Tommen. The feast finally began.

Rhaella noticed Queen Cersei looking at her. Lady Catelyn gave a little nod, hinting her to come over. Rhaella took a deep breath and made her way over. Once she was before them, she curtsied. “My Queen, my Lady,” Rhaella said.

“Why aren’t you a precious thing?” The Queen asked. “Rhaella, isn’t it? Surely, a beautiful thing like you shouldn’t be hiding in the North, where it’s cold.”

“T-Thank you, my Queen! You look very beautiful yourself.” Rhaella smiled. The Queen had long gorgeous golden blonde hair and emerald green eyes. She truly was a sight to see.

“And your smile, like the sun entered the room and exploded,” the Queen added. “You’re free to go, and would you be a dear and tell Sansa to come over?”

Rhaella didn’t know how to feel about the last compliment, but curtsied again before walking away. Sansa was sitting with her friend Jeyne Poole, giggling and whispering. “Sansa,” Rhaella said. “The Queen wants to speak with you!” Sansa’s eyes lit up with joy, “Really, she wants me?” She quickly got up from her seat and walked over to them. Rhaella sat back down with Jon. “What did she want?” He asked, lifting his eyebrow. “Nothing really,” Rhaella replied. “Nothing bad, thank goodness.”

As everyone ate their food, Rhaella looked up at Arya. She had a mischievous look on her face. What will she do? She scooped a piece of pigeon pie, and aimed it at Sansa. She flicked the pie at her, hitting her cheek.

“Arya!” She shrieked. “She always does this!”

Robb picked Arya up and took her to her bed camber as the whole room laughed.

The musicians started to play their music, inviting everyone to the dance floor. I’d like to dance a little, but who would ask me?

୭ ₊ Bran ˚.

Bran watched as men brought their lady partners to the floor to dance. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “You should ask Rhaella to dance,” Robb said. “I think it would make her very happy.”

“She is your betrothed after all,” Theon added, teasing Bran.

Bran’s cheeks went red, “s-stop teasing me! What if she says no?”

“Believe me, she wouldn’t,” Robb said. “Besides, you should never be afraid of rejection.”

Easy for you to say, all the girls love you, even her…

Bran nodded and got up from his seat. He walked over to Rhaella, offering his hand, “Gaomagon jaelā naejot lilagon lēda nyke?”

She smiled and nodded, “Kessa!”

They both made their way to the dance floor, and began to mimic the moves of the pairs. “The dancing lessons really paid off,” she said. Bran agreed, “yeah! We’re doing good!”

The two of them continued to dance. “Bran, I think everyone is watching us!” She whispered. He glanced around the room. She was right, everybody was watching, even the king. “Don’t worry about them, just focus on me,” he told her. Everybody began to cheer for them, including the other Starks.

“That’s my brother!” Robb yelled.

That’s so embarrassing…

Rhaella laughed, making Bran blush.

୭ ₊ Rhaella ˚.

Once the song was over, Rhaella and Bran went back to their seats. Where’s Jon? She hopped off her seat and searched for him. She walked outside to find him training with his sword. “There you are,” Rhaella said. “You missed me and Bran dancing!”

“Don’t worry, I saw you two before I left outside. You both did great.” He said.

“I wish you could have danced with us.” She admitted.

They both heard another song playing from inside. Jon placed down his sword, and offered his hand, “well then, my lady, may I have this dance,” he asked, in a silly voice. Rhaella laughed and accepted. They both danced until the song was over. Rhaella and Bran went to Arya’s bed chamber to read another Targaryen story before going to bed. Arya set up a tent with her blanket so they could lay on their bellies on the floor. “We didn’t finish the dance of the dragons!” Arya said. “We left off on the part where Prince Jacerys went to Winterfell.”

Rhaella began to read from the book, “well it says here that he met Lord Cregan Stark, who also lost his younger brother. Jacerys reminded him so much of his sibling that they formed a brotherhood and they made the—”

“The pact of Ice and Fire.” They heard a voice say. All of a sudden, the blanket was yanked from above making the children scream. “It’s just me,” Lord Stark said. “All of you should be sleeping you know.”

“After this part of the story.” Bran said. “Please?”

Their father chuckled, “alright then, the pact was made between them to show the North’s support for the blacks during the dance. The Prince said once he’d have a daughter, she would marry Cregan’s son.”

“Did it happen?” Rhaella asked.

“No, the Prince died shortly after during a battle.” He answered.

Arya frowned, “so the pact was never fulfilled?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said messing with her hair. “That’s what war does, nothing but destruction and death. I despise it.”

“Imagine what it was like to have a war with that many dragons,” Bran said. “Maybe I don’t want to imagine it.”

Lord Stark agreed, “the poor dragons were the key ‘weapons’ in that war, nearly wiping all of them out.”

“And now they’re all gone.” Rhaella said.

“Perhaps they are,” he said. “Now, time for bed all of you.” Bran and Rhaella left the room and went to their own.

The next day, the girls had embroidery lessons with Princess Marcella. Nearly the whole time Sansa was giggling and whispering to her friends Jayne and Beth.

“What’s so funny?” Arya asked. “Tell me what y’all are giggling about!”

“The prince,” Sansa blushed. “He was very handsome at the feast. He even stared me.”

“I’m sure he also saw you get pigeon pied to the face,” Arya snickered. “Besides, Jon said he’s a spoiled brat.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, “Jon is just jealous that he is a bastard and not a prince!”

Arya and Rhaella gasped.

“Sansa, that’s so mean!” Rhaella said.

“It’s the truth,” Sansa said. “And I will be queen someday.”

Arya grabbed Rhaella’s hand, “let’s go see what Bran is up to!”

They made their way into the courtyard. They found the Stark and Baratheon boys together. Bran and Tommen were heavily padded with wooden swords.

They called for him and waved. “Good luck brother!” Arya yelled.

As the two boys were fighting, everyone could sense the tension between Robb and Prince Joffrey. They were smack talking each other the whole time. Their fight would certainly be interesting.

“I wish we could do that,” Arya sighed. “It would be fun!”

Rhaella agreed, “yeah, but alas, we are girls. Some books I’ve read said that outside of Westeros there are places where women are allowed to do anything men can.”

“I’d like to go there sometime.” She said.

“Same here.”

Tommen fell to the ground as Bran held his wooden sword at him. Wow, Bran would have made a great knight of the kingsguard, Rhaella said to herself. Then I showed up and ruined everything…

When it became dawn, the King and Lord Stark were leaving for a hunt with Robb and Theon following them. Bran and Rhaella watched as they trotted away on horseback. Lord Stark looked at them to wave goodbye. They smiled back and watched as the party left.

“My father will be hand of the king,” Bran said. “He’s leaving to King’s Landing tomorrow. He’s going to take us with him. Mother didn’t want me to go, but father thought that I could calm down the feud between Joffrey and Robb.”

“Did he mention me?” Rhaella asked. As scared as she was of the king, the Starks truly had become a family to her. She didn’t want to lose them.

“I asked father, they are still making a decision.” He said. “I’m sure the king will say yes. You are my betrothed after all.”

Bored, Bran and Rhaella explored Winterfell’s castle. They visited the stables where Hodor, a large and tall man, attended to Bran’s pony. Hodor was truly a mystery. All he ever said was ‘Hodor.’ No one knows why.

“I’ll have to leave him behind,” Bran said as he looked at the pony. Rhaella turned to Bran and noticed water in his eyes. She held his hand, whispering, “hey, it’s going to be okay.”

Bran sniffed, “sorry, I shouldn’t be crying. Boys don’t cry.”

“Everyone cries, Bran,” she reminded him. “There’s no shame in that.” She knew he wouldn’t believe her, but it wouldn’t hurt to try comforting a friend.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to leave,” he admitted. “This is my home. My real home.”

There was that word again, ‘home.’

Where’s my home?

The stable boys noticed the Stark boy crying and began to snicker. “What a baby!” One of them laughed. “Shut up!” Rhaella shouted. “That ‘baby’ is more important than any of you will ever be!” She grabbed Bran’s hand and they both took off.

The two children grew bored again, thinking of what to do next.

Bran gave her a mischievous smirk, “you wanna go climbing?”

“Bran, your mother said no!” She reminded him. “And I don’t feel like climbing right now…I’ll just watch.”

His direwolf pup began to chew on his shoe. “Come on you!” He told the pup. They found an abandoned tower in the distance. Bran pointed at it, “I’m going to climb that one!” Once they got there, Bran started climbing. Never once had he ever fell from climbing. Never.

Once Bran made it to the window, he looked confused. Before Rhaella could ask if something was wrong, she saw Bran get dragged in by a hand. Without thinking, she began to climb herself up the tower. She was halfway there until Bran was pushed from the window. She swiftly grabbed his hand, “hang on.” She held on as much as she could. “We’re going to fall!” He shouted. Her fingers began to slip from the wall. “We’re going to be okay—” she started to say until her fingers completely slipped off the wall. They both held onto each other as their bodies hit the ground. Everything went black.

“Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!”

Confused, Rhaella woke up in a crowd of people. They were all shouting at someone. She turned to where they were all facing and gasped. It was Sansa, the Queen, and Joffrey with his kingsguard. Except, Joffrey wore the crown of the king. Is this Kingslanding? “No!” Sansa yelled. “Please don’t do this!” Lord Stark was being executed! Rhaella wanted to shout, but she couldn’t. No! The knight drew out his sword, and lifted it up. Rhaella turned away, covering her eyes, before seeing his head get sliced off. What is going on?

“Dany, please!” A voice begged in fear.

Viserys?

She removed her hands to investigate, only to be in a completely different spot. She was inside a tent with many men and women. She knew it wasn’t Westeros due to the majority of people having darker skin with unfamiliar accents. There Viserys was, on his knees as two other men restrained him from moving. “A crown of a king,” The tall man said. He held a pot of melted gold over Viserys’ head and poured it over him. He screamed in agony until he could no longer say anything. His head slammed to the ground. He was dead!

“He was no dragon.”

Rhaella turned back to see Dany. She showed no emotion whatsoever after what just happened.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” she said, staring at his lifeless body.

There was a loud screech from the sky, startling Rhaella. Once she looked up, she couldn’t believe what was there before her. It was a dragon! The scales of the creature was a beautiful deep shade of blue, with a lighter shade going down its neck and under its wings. The dragon opened its mouth, letting out blue flames at her.

Rhaella let out a small groan. Her vision, at first, was blurry. All she could hear was a gasp.

“Gods be good!” A familiar voice exclaimed.

“My…lady?” Rhaella asked.

“Yes, sweet girl. It’s me.” She said.

Rhaella tried to stand, but she was weak.

“No, you need your rest.” She said. Rhaella could tell Lady Stark was relieved, but not completely. Bran was still sleeping in a bed next to hers.

“How long has it been?” Rhaella asked.

“A couple of days.” She answered. “You were in a coma.”

Rhaella’s stomach let out a vicious growl. She didn’t realize how hungry she was.

“You poor thing, all we could give the both you was honey and water while you were sleeping,” Lady Stark explained. “I’ll have someone bring food from the kitchen.”

“I tried to not let go,” Rhaella explained. “I was holding onto his hand while gripping the wall with my other hand.”

“Do you remember anything else before that?” She asked.

“Well, all I remember was him falling from the tower. He could have been pushed, but I didn’t see…”

That made Lady Stark want to ask more questions, but Rhaella didn’t have a lot of answers. They all left. Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya, and Jon. Rhaella didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. That made her sad. She wanted to cry, but refused to let any tears fall.

“Whoever did this to you will pay,” Lady Stark said coldly. “I promise you that.”

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

[agentrouka-blog]

When one tries to rebut how Sansa wants Northern independence, would saying that she doesn’t say anything in the books about it or how Robb tried and died justify it?

Why on earth would she not want Northern independence? She is literally the captive of a tyrant king who killed her father and who regularly has her beaten for Robb's actions. If ever there was an appropriate moment for GRRM to slip in Sansa's political opposition to Northern independence it would be in ACOK?

Instead we get this:

Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. Robb has beaten them every time. He'll beat Lord Baelish too, if he must. (ACOK, Sansa VII)

Her thoughts are consistently supportive of Robb. His defeat is a betrayal to her.

She would have fled them both, perhaps, but there was nowhere for her to go. Winterfell was burned and desolate, Bran and Rickon dead and cold. Robb had been betrayed and murdered at the Twins, along with their lady mother. (AFFC, Sansa I)

As late as her TWOW sample chapter, she thinks this:

Robb would be his age, if he were still alive, she could not help but think, but Robb died a king, and this is just a boy.

Or do they think she only supports Northern independence if there's a Lannister on the throne and she would be fine returning to the fold once the next monarch is "nice"? Is that "nice" claimant then meant to be Dany, perhance?

In that case, I hope they don't imagine she'll forget the example of the last time Targaryens held the throne, and what even tyranny it meant for House Stark, specifically Rickard and Brandon, their companions, but also Lyanna. The Rebellion broke out because the guy on the throne demanded that Jon Arryn send him Eddard and Robert to kill.

Sansa is a history nerd. She knows this stuff.

The only reason the North as a whole deferred their independence movement was because Ned's bestie was on the throne. The abject enthusiasm with which the Northerners and the Riverlanders spontaneously proclaimed Robb's kingship is a testament to how widely held and popular that general sentiment always was in both regions.

Sansa herself has witnessed the decadence and ignorance that the royal leadership in KL is capable of, unchecked. She also witnessed how weak they are as soon as a region like the Reach witholds its support and resources. What benefit do people imagine she sees in remaining subservient to them?

The fact that Sansa has been brutally disabused of her idealised idea of courtly culture in the South removes any sentimental attachment she may have held for this political connection, so unless there was a really pressing political reason to consider it, she has every incentive to advocate for independence.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Snarl

Pairing(s): Brandon Stark x Stark!Reader, Brandon Stark x Catelyn Tully

Warnings: forbidden love, longing, sibling incest, arranged marriage, marriage of convenience, jealousy,

Words: 1181

Summary: Words left unspoken had Brandon Stark aching, longing to tell his beloved sister how much he truly loved her before he married Catelyn Tully. Honor and the gods made both siblings keep their mouth shut on the matter; never to be mentioned out loud. For even if they did love one another, it was never meant to be.

Brandon Stark stares at the small piece of paper that had just been delivered by raven. He exchanged a brief glance with his father before nodding and rolling it back up. This alliance would be good, Brandon knew that. Riverrun had always been warm friends with Winterfell. To bond the two houses in marriage made sense. However, Brandon’s heart had in mind a different bride.

“Well?” Rickard asks his son. Watching as the future Warden of the North ventures over to the window to gaze outside. His gray eyes were focused on the courtyard below. His home and his heart stood in the snow, her footprints behind her. (y/n), his sister. She was but a dot to Brandon at such a height but he knew his sister well. He could practically envision her blushing cheeks, chilled by the nipping wind. Her long eyelashes that gathered snowflakes on them like tiny pearls.

This kind of union could never prosper.

Body moving on its own, Brandon nods to let his father know that he accepted this arrangement. He dared not speak for his mouth might refuse and speak for his heart.

Rickard gives his son a hard stare before motioning for Maester Luwin who had been waiting quietly by the door. The older man eyes the sullen Brandon as well but kept his lips pressed together. “Send word to Hoster Tully that Brandon has accepted Catelyn as his bride.”

Grimacing even more, Brandon excuses himself and heads to the door.

“Brandon.”

He halts and waits for his father to speak.

“Taking a wife is not the end of the world. You’ll see. It enriches your life.”

Hand on the door handle, Brandon opens it. “If you say so father.”

Her tracks were still in the snow. Brandon had hoped he’d be able to meet up with her, but by the look of it she had already left. Using basic tracking skills, Brandon easily found (y/n) in Ser Rodrick’s training ground. She chuckled loudly at Lyanna’s antics. His younger sister having a fondness for swordplay. Next to (y/n) was a young man near her age. While she had been laughing at Lyanna, he had been staring in adoration at her. Brandon stopped in his tracks, gray eyes narrowing as the boy leans towards (y/n) and tells her something which Brandon couldn’t hear. (y/n) turns her doe eyes toward this interloper and offers him a smile that would enslave any man. Like Brandon himself.

Let her go.

Just let her go.

He couldn’t though. Them flirting right in front of him just made Brandon turn green with jealousy.

Lyanna spots him first as eh marches over to the couple. Mischief makes her face glow as she stabs her sword into the snow. “Well young Arcel, if you wish for my sister’s hand here is your chance.”

The young man known as Arcel furrows his brows in confusion before turning to find Brandon already going for the pommel of his sword.

“Yes, Arcel. For my sister’s hand you must best me.”

“Y-Your sister’s hand?” He blanches and stares at (y/n) for help. “I. . . I don’t-”

Sword singing as Brandon swings it in an arc, Arcel might as well have shit himself. “Don’t be a coward.”

Oh but the poor boy was. He showed them all as he ran away. Lyanna simply laughs at the sight while (y/n) rolls her eyes with a faint smile.

“You didn’t have to terrify him.” (y/n) looks at her older brother.

Brandon replies with a scoff. “Any man who wants to marry you has to prove his worth. I’ll not give you away to some weakling.”

Her breath could be seen as she laughs. “He didn’t want to marry me. He was complimenting Lyanna’s swordsmanship and asked if I could fight as well as her.”

Said sister prances over. “Aye, she’s right. I just think its funny when you scare off any boy that gets too close to (y/n).”

Slightly embarrassed by his rash behavior, Brandon barks at his younger sister. “Lyanna!”

Squealing, Lyanna dashes away from Brandon’s swinging sword. She runs off back to the castle.

(y/n) bumps against Brandon. “You really should stop falling for that so easily.”

“I can’t help it.” Grumbling in reply, he returns his sword back into its sheath.

Fingers weave through the furs that he wore. “You’re much too hot headed. Try and be more like Ned. He takes all of Lyanna’s barbs with quiet dignity.”

Quickly so that she couldn’t pull away, Brandon grabs her hand. “Would you like me more If I was like Ned?”

“Of course not you buffoon.” Eyes crinkling as she smiles, she pries her hand gently out of its prison. "Walk with me, brother.”

There was no place more lovely than Winterfell. Sure, King’s Landing had the glitz and glamour of court, but not true beauty of the land. Even (y/n) insisted that if she were to marry anyone it could only be a northern lord. Like a winter rose, she thrived in the chilly climate; bloomed against the snow and grew lovelier. Only a true northerner would be worthy of her. She was, after all, the first born daughter of Rickard Stark. Born during a blizzard, she proved to be just as fierce as one.

“What did the raven bring? Good news I hope.”

“Depends who’s reading it.” A foul taste lingered on the tip of his tongue. “I’m to marry Catelyn Tully.”

Her face is calm as they continue to walk around the grounds. Eyes unreadable and focused on her steps. “Congratulations. I hear she’s lovely. Beautiful auburn hair. I’m sure she’ll make you a fine wife.”

“I have no doubts, but I would’ve chosen a different bride.”

“But of course.” (y/n) nods solemnly. “Often in life we don’t get what we want.”

He wants to hold her. Tell her that his affections would forever belong to her. But it was an unspoken love. Both acknowledged to a degree their more than familial feelings for one another. The words hadn’t actually been spoken out loud or discussed. Only lingering glances and gentle brushing of hands. Nothing more. To say anything would be blasphemous. To act on it. . . They wouldn’t dare. Not when the gods condemned it.

Out of honor, they suffered through.

“Stop frowning so much. You’re getting married, not executed.” (y/n) musters up a smile even though it looked like it pained her to do so.

He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. That he would kill anyone just to have her smile for him. These were words that he had to swallow. “Nothing between us will ever change.”

Looking deeply into those stormy gray eyes, he could see his own sadness reflected back. “I know.”

That must have been the saddest thing of all. He could never love any other woman as much as he loved his sister. No matter how good they proved to be, Brandon would always have eyes for (y/n) and (y/n) alone.

[writingsofwesteros]

Iron doe:

Jon Arryn ran after young Eddard Stark. The man was barely that, a man, he was a boy in Jon's eyes.

"My dear boy, you need to stay put" he tries as Ned stables his horse. "You are not in your right mind" they had just gotten the worst of news.

The news of brandon and rickon, and the call for Robert and Neds heads.

"I must ride to lady Stevonna" Ned says with a tight voice. Eyes closing as he tries to stay calm. "I must-she cannot hear it through a letter" he whispers. "If we are to risk war already, I cannot leave House tully by dishonoring what was promised. Lady Catelyn as lady of winterfell" Jon can hear pain in Neds every word.

"does Robert agree?" Jon asks softly. Ned nods.

"reluctantly" he answers. Jon sighs as he pats Neds shoulder.

"Catelyn tully will make a good wife" Jon tries to soothe. Noting the tick in Neds jaw at the words. "But she isn't Stevonna Baratheon, is she?" Jon continues. Stevonna was not the most desirable wife by social standard. Avidly idealistic, a dreamer. But then again she countered Neds down to earth feet, her stubborness matched his, and her laughter lit up his brooding eyes.

"you need to ride fast" Jon says. "And be careful, If you must go"

"I need to do this, Jon" Ned says lifting himself to the saddle. Ned had always carried More seriousness than others but the serious bloodshot eyes were too old for a man his eyes. "I need to lay my eyes on her one more time before I won't deserve to any longer"

"she is wise girl, she will understand"

Ned shakes his head but doesn't say outloud the words in his mind. Wise in law but vulnerable in love

POOR STEV !!! The heartbreak!! I HATE IT!!

They are always just missing out on their happy ending :(

[esther-dot]

Cat was supposed to marry Brandon only for him to die brutally by the hands of king. Shortly after she married to Ned only for him to leave for war against the king. How much terrified she would have been especially when she became pregnant? One thing after is happening and it's like she didn't get the time to process.

Absolutely. Having an heir was important, the books press on that issue a lot, so on the one hand, it had to be a relief to potentially be having the Stark heir, but it was right in the middle of so much chaos and trauma. Cat's entire life is marked by being forced into difficult situations without ever having a choice in the matter. There's a lot of pain in this passage,

When the last of Edmure's foot had shuffled under the portcullis, Brienne asked, "What shall we do now, my lady?" "Our duty." Catelyn's face was drawn as she started across the yard. I have always done my duty, she thought. Perhaps that was why her lord father had always cherished her best of all his children. Her two older brothers had both died in infancy, so she had been son as well as daughter to Lord Hoster until Edmure was born. Then her mother had died and her father had told her that she must be the lady of Riverrun now, and she had done that too. And when Lord Hoster promised her to Brandon Stark, she had thanked him for making her such a splendid match. I gave Brandon my favor to wear, and never comforted Petyr once after he was wounded, nor bid him farewell when Father sent him off. And when Brandon was murdered and Father told me I must wed his brother, I did so gladly, though I never saw Ned's face until our wedding day. I gave my maidenhood to this solemn stranger and sent him off to his war and his king and the woman who bore him his bastard, because I always did my duty. (ACOK, Catelyn VI

And then after losing her fiance, marrying a stranger who might be on the losing side of the war --terrifying prospect--and who might die, she has his child, goes home to a place in a region that's unknown to her, only to find he's installed his bastard there before his true born son, the son she bore him,

He did more than that. The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him "son" for all the north to see. When the wars were over at last, and Catelyn rode to Winterfell, Jon and his wet nurse had already taken up residence. (AGOT, Catelyn II)

Trauma, terror, trauma, terror. The things she could have thought that implied! I totally agree she didn't have the opportunity to process any of this. I don't think Ned processed his trauma either. I was really struck by Brandon's presence in their marriage all these years later. Even though they've come to love each other, Ned can't seem to move past his insecurity and guilt, he's living a life that was never meant to be his:

Brandon had been twenty when he died, strangled by order of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen only a few short days before he was to wed Catelyn Tully of Riverrun. His father had been forced to watch him die. He was the true heir, the eldest, born to rule. (AGOT, Eddard I)

She finished for him. "… crown prince, and heir to the Iron Throne. And I was only twelve when my father promised me to your brother Brandon." That brought a bitter twist to Ned's mouth. "Brandon. Yes. Brandon would know what to do. He always did. It was all meant for Brandon. You, Winterfell, everything. He was born to be a King's Hand and a father to queens. I never asked for this cup to pass to me." "Perhaps not," Catelyn said, "but Brandon is dead, and the cup has passed, and you must drink from it, like it or not." Ned turned away from her, back to the night. He stood staring out in the darkness, watching the moon and the stars perhaps, or perhaps the sentries on the wall. Catelyn softened then, to see his pain. Eddard Stark had married her in Brandon's place, as custom decreed, but the shadow of his dead brother still lay between them, as did the other, the shadow of the woman he would not name, the woman who had borne him his bastard son. (AGOT, Catelyn II)

Neither was able to fully process and move past the trauma their marriage was created by and in. That tragic context for their relationship makes what it became so much more beautiful though, and this passage, all the more touching:

And was it really such a terrible thing, to want a pretty wife? She remembered her own childish disappointment, the first time she had laid eyes on Eddard Stark. She had pictured him as a younger version of his brother Brandon, but that was wrong. Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages. Even when he took her maidenhood, their love had more of duty to it than of passion. We made Robb that night, though; we made a king together. And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face. (ASOS, Catelyn V)

Not merely a good heart, a sweet heart. Not merely a survivable marriage, but love.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Idk if you’re taking prompts but I just thought about this and 👀

Early in their marriage Ned is already hopelessly in love with Catelyn but he doesn’t think she feels the same and fears she still years for his brother. So when she tells him she’s pregnant again (Sansa) and that she hopes it’s a boy for them to name after Brandon, Ned gets sick with jealously and insecurity and even more sick that he feels like this way, because he knows Catelyn wasn’t supposed to be his wife anyways ✨

I didn’t think of an particular ending so if you want to write this prompt at any point you can get creative. I just LOVE jealous!Ned

I’m always taking prompts! I can’t always fulfil them very quickly and sometimes I never get to them, but it’s always worth throwing me an ask if you have an idea <3

Here is Ned being jealous and insecure with a sweet ending because I just had to. Enjoy!

The first time Ned had ever laid eyes upon his wife was on their wedding day, though he had learned of her long before that. He had never met her gaze before they swore themselves to one another, though he had heard of how blue her eyes were. He had never touched her hair before they took to bed on their wedding night, though he had been told of how soft it was.

He had been fostered in the Vale for years when the betrothal between Brandon and Catelyn was decided upon. He had received the news of it not much later in a letter from his father. Then, not long thereafter, he had been sent a letter from Brandon. By then Brandon had met his future wife and wrote of how she wasn’t a woman grown yet, though that she would be lovely once she was. Blue eyes one could drown in, auburn hair, a face that would be beautiful once she grew into it. Sweet and well mannered with a good head on her shoulder.

When he read the letter Ned had imagined what the girl, Catelyn Tully, looked like. What she was like. He had not paid it much more mind, it had not mattered to him. Why would it? He had not himself been a man grown yet, he had had other concerns. So small and feeble he could not even remember what they were, though they had seemed great to him then.

Over the years that lead up to the wedding Ned had heard of Catelyn Tully many times. Through letters and from Brandon when he visited home. He had listened with half an ear as his brother bragged about the woman he would marry, it had not been important. Until suddenly it was so very important.

Brandon had died and Ned had taken his place. In the end Ned had been the one to wed Catelyn Tully. It had been difficult to truly see her on the day of their wedding, his mind had been flooded with so many other things. So much death and destruction.

The pain remained once the dust had settled and they were both in Winterfell. Though life was calmer, it was easier to see. See for himself all that Brandon had told him of.

Brandon had not exaggerated when he spoke of Catelyn. She was beautiful, she was sweet and kind, she was clever and had her wits with her. His people took to her quickly and she was a good mother to their son.

His brother had never mentioned if Catelyn thought as highly of him as he did of her. Still she must have. Brandon had been handsome and charming. All girls had wanted Brandon, everyone had wanted Brandon. So had always been the way of things. Of course Catelyn had wanted to wed him, of course she had loved him. No one could fault her for it, he had been her betrothed and for years she had known she would be his wife.

With a sigh Ned fell back on his bed, looking up at the canopy above him. The thought of Catelyn was eating at his mind, leaving him with a weight on his chest. One moment he looked at her and felt his heart flutter, the next he found himself full of dread.

A few days earlier they had been in quarrel over Jon again. She had once again asked him to send the boy away, Ned had once again refused. As it had been for almost three years and would continue to be. Before he had been left more angered than anything else, that time he had felt something else. He had been angry with her, though it had been tinged with something else. Some regret. Not over bringing Jon home, but over speaking so harshly to her. It had not been necessary, he could have remained calm even when faced with her persistence in wanting Jon gone. What she said did not matter, he knew Jon would remain in Winterfell.

Catelyn had been cold to him since, only spoke to him when necessary. He had returned that. The thought of apologising had crossed his mind, still he had not done so. Apologising to her was difficult. Everything that had to do with her was difficult.

Ned shot up into a sitting position when there was a knock on his door. He considered sending whoever it was away. He was tired. So tired. He wanted the day to be through, wanted no one else to speak to him.

“It’s Catelyn, my lord” a voice said before he had made his decision. “May I enter?”

What business did she have with him at that hour? Was it something that had to do with Robb? He could not refuse her.

“Come!” he called as he pushed himself off the bed.

He was glad for that he had not had time to undress.

Even as he had called for her to enter he had to wait before she did so. Enough time for his heart to start beating faster. Enough for him to regret not having told her they could speak on the morrow.

Catelyn was not smiling when she opened the door, though a smile appeared on her face when she looked at him. He was surprised by that smile, by how joyful she seemed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my lady?” he asked.

“I have something I wish to tell you” Catelyn said, her eyes gleaming. ”May I sit?”

The way her joy made him feel somewhat suspicious sickened him. Why was he not happy that she was happy?

”Of course.”

He gestured towards the two chairs by the bedchamber’s hearth and Catelyn immediately moved to sit. She sat on the very edge of the seat, folding her hands in her lap.

Something in him wished to resist when he followed her lead and sat in the other chair.

”What did you wish to tell me, my lady?”

”I have been wanting to tell you all day” she began. ”Though I waited for a good moment to do so and that moment never presented itself. Forgive me for disturbing you so late in the day, my lord, I simply could not wait any longer.”

”You need not apologise” he assured her.

She was free to visit his bedchamber whenever she wished. If she wished to do so, that was.

Catelyn took a deep breath and then paused. While Ned waited for her to speak she left her chair and moved it closer to his before sitting again. That time she did not keep her hands in her lap, she instead took one of his hands into the both of hers.

For a second Ned forgot how to breathe, not made easier by what Catelyn said.

”I’m with child.”

His wife was with child, he would be a father again. Then the happiness washed over him, took him under entirely.

Last time she had been with child he had learned of it from a letter he had read in the middle of a war camp. It had brought him joy, though it had also brought a terrible worry. Then the times had been uncertain, it was no longer like that. The war was over, both of them were safe in Winterfell. They would have another child together, a brother or sister for Robb and Jon. Everything was well.

”That’s wonderful, my lady” he smiled, squeezing her hand.

”It’s still early, the maester advised me not to become too hopeful” Catelyn told him. ”Though I cannot help myself.”

“We shall pray to the gods, both old and new, for that everything goes well.”

If the gods saw fit they would have a healthy child.

The thought of holding their newborn child made him warm. He had not been there to hold Robb, it would be different that time.

On a whim he raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed the back of it, making her smile even wider.

His wife, his Lady Catelyn, the mother of his children. They had made another child together, another life that would see the light of day. He wondered what it would look like, what its laughter would sound like, if it would be a boy or a girl.

“To believe you waited all day to tell me” he said.

How was he to sleep? He did not feel at all tired, he felt alive. Happy, so happy.

“I was not allowed to sit with you and tell you last time I was with child” Catelyn said softly. “I wanted it to feel right.”

It felt right, few things had ever felt so right.

“I am overjoyed.”

Never before had that word been so true.

“I hope it’s a boy” Catelyn continued. “If so I wish to name him Brandon for your brother.”

His heart dropped in his chest and it took only a moment for him to despise himself for it.

He had also thought of that, how he wished to name another son of theirs Brandon. Almost every generation of Starks had a Brandon, and he did wish to honour his late brother. The brother that had died because of his attempt to get their sister back. Still something turned in him when Catelyn put forward the suggestion.

There was nothing he could fault her for. She had loved his brother, a part of her most likely still did. Her loyalty to his memory was admirable and Ned had no right to her.

“Brandon is a fine name” he told her.

A good name for their boy. If it was a boy.

“A fine name for what will be a fine boy.”

Ned’s boy, Ned’s child. It should have been Brandon’s. All that belonged to him should have belonged to his brother. Some of it did still belong to his brother, Catelyn’s heart belonged to his brother. Did she wish it had been Brandon’s child? Ned did not truly want an answer.

Though Catelyn was not looking at Brandon, she was looking at him. She looked at him with soft eyes, and there was something he could almost recognise as loving. It made his heart ache.

~*~

Sansa was her name and she was the sweetest girl in the entire world. Small and frail and the most beautiful being Ned had ever seen.

It had been late in the evening when she began her journey into the world and not long after dawn Catelyn had brought her forth. A healthy girl, the maester had fairly quickly established, and the whole castle had breathed a sigh of relief. Ned most of all.

Hours later both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Catelyn in her bed and Sansa in Ned’s arms. Ned himself was rather tired, he had been awake for a day and half, though he did not wish to sleep. He wished to sit in a chair in his wife’s room and hold his newborn daughter so that Catelyn could sleep in peace.

It was a dream to finally be able to hold his child, the wait had been so very long. Since that evening when Catelyn came to tell him of the babe each day had passed slower than the next. Though the birth had come and it was a Sansa, not a Brandon. Ned was not disappointed in the least.

Outside the windows large snowflakes fell from a grey sky. It was not one of the wild and violent snowfalls, it was soft. The kind of snowfall that would have made the world still and silent had it not been for the bells. Bells ringing for the birth of a daughter of Winterfell.

“Do you hear that, little one?” he mumbled. “They ring for you. We have waited for you.”

His perfect daughter. Their perfect daughter. A daughter he and Catelyn had made together.

Sansa moved a little, though stayed asleep. She was so small, smaller than Jon had been. So little she weighed nothing at all, though strong all the same. She would thrive.

Carefully Ned left his seat and walked over to one of the windows, looking out at the castle. The snow wrapped Winterfell in a white blanket, brought a peace to the castle. It was a beautiful sight.

“A day like this the snow is good to you” he said in a low voice. “You will learn it is not always like that. Though I will keep you safe until you also learn how to survive.”

Nothing would harm his little girl.

“Not a day old and you’re warning her of winter.”

He turned and looked at Catelyn.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, forgive me.”

She smiled at him from under heavy eyelids. Her hair, matted with sweat, laid in a braid over her shoulder. She was pale and had dark circles under her eyes. Tired and torn from the night, still she had never been more beautiful.

“It wasn’t due to any fault of yours” she sighed. “It’s difficult to rest easy now.”

The same could not be said of Sansa, she remained asleep.

Ned went to sit on the side of her bed so that Catelyn could also look at the sleeping babe.

“What a beautiful daughter we have” she said softly.

She reached out and let a finger run down Sansa’s red cheek.

“She takes after her mother in that” Ned told her.

Catelyn huffed at that, though he saw that it brought some colour to her face.

“Thank you” Ned said before he could stop himself.

He had looked at Catelyn and their child and been overcome by a wave of gratefulness. Catelyn was his wife and Sansa was his daughter, and it had not been meant to be that way but it was.

“For what?”

“For her.”

He loved Sansa so that his heart ached. It was a good ache. One he wanted more of.

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Catelyn II

“And I was only twelve when my father promised me to your brother Brandon.”

That brought a bitter twist to Ned’s mouth.

“Brandon. Yes. Brandon would know what to do. He always did. It was all meant for Brandon. You, Winterfell, everything. He was born to be a King’s Hand and a father to queens. I never asked for this cup to pass to me.”

“Perhaps not,” Catelyn said, “but Brandon is dead, and the cup has passed, and you must drink from it, like it or not.”

Ned turned away from her, back to the night. He stood staring out in the darkness, watching the moon and the stars perhaps, or perhaps the sentries on the wall.

Catelyn softened then, to see his pain.

Eddard Stark had married her in Brandon’s place, as custom decreed, but the shadow of his dead brother still lay between them, as did the other, the shadow of the woman he would not name, the woman had borne him his bastard son.

[noeverse]

Among Crowns, Chapter Two: Bears on Fire

Author's Notes

After having troubles with my computer, here I am! All solved and the chapter ready to go! This time we got a Rodrik POV, which was so much fun to make! Hope you guys like where I'm leading this manwhore trying to redeem himself

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

This series will contain canon-typical violence, misogyny and many other themes ASOIAF/HOTD deals with, reader's discretion is advised

Please consider reblogging and commenting!

If you wish to be tagged, tell me in the notes!

This series will be attached to my other parallel series, 'burning bridges (of a kingdom fallen)' which will be published soon!

This series will depict canon-typical violence, age-gaps, sexism and misogyny, infidelity, among other themes explores in ASOIAF that I will tag as the series comes. Reader's discretion is advised

Visella Targaryen is an OC made by @blood0fthedragon who will make cameos and appearances later in the fic. You can check her fic What Will Survive of Us' !

Summary: Rodrik, having arrived to Dragonstone, remembers why he came and accepted Baela's hand in marriage, and gets to know her in the meantime

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairings: Baela Targaryen x OMC (Rodrik Mormont)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Violence, suggestive scene

Tagging: @aeksion-aekse @mini-kunoichi @huramuna @blood0fthedragon

Upon the night of his arrival at Dragonstone, Rodrik had felt welcome, however, he was reluctant of the marriage. He hardly knew Baela, and had heard many things about her, some of them mixed. She was a mystery to him.

After having dined and put on his nightshirt, he went down to the kitchen to a glass of water. Dragonstone wasn’t as cold as Bear Island, but was rather chilly. As he took in the simplicity of the kitchen, he was reminded of his castle back home, and his lifestyle. His father, Brandon, had been his hero growing up. But he had died back in Jaehaerys’ reign when he was a boy, and was now under the command of his uncle, Torrhen. He had always been a strange fellow, now that he had given it a thought after that fateful night in which he had accepted to marry Baela instead of one of Greyjoy’s daughters. Always alone with that man from Lys, whisperings and what seemed like plotting.

He had always told him to ‘be a boy his age’ and that ‘lordship could wait’ as he sent him beautiful women all over Westeros to his bed, or money to the brothels. He had made no attempt to sit on his seat, which he’d always kick himself for.

As he downed another cup of water, he remembered that night yet again since he had set sail, leaving the regency to his father’s friend, Marlon Snow; a shrewd, patient and wise man who had served as a squire to Prince Aemon when he was but seven, then cupbearer to the previous Lord of Winterfell during the councils of King Jaehaerys and who had been his father’s wisest and most beloved friend, and even respected by his mother, the Lady Alys Blackwood. It was said that it was Marlon himself who proposed Alys as wife instead of the sanguine and unpredictable Lady Dustin. It was mayhaps because of him that Rodrik existed at all. He had served his father well, and had given him helpful advice on handling the Targaryens and navigate the princess’ court. His mind raced back to what had gone down in Bear Island under his very nose.

As he left the brothel, a feeling that he wasn’t meant to be there, he observed two men from his table talking. Hiding beneath his cloak, he listened quietly.

“…Aye, it’s true, Torrhen is driving us to ruin while the rightful heir drinks and whores! Spending over the Greens, killing those who uncover him, bribes! Why nobody we sent over to Lord Rodrik has appeared is concerning. He grows more corrupt and powerful by the day. We must act, before Lord Cregan notices it. His men are always near, and they’re sniffing something.”

He finally broke out of his hiding “And, pray tell, my lords, what are they sniffling?”

The men’s eyes widened. Surprise. Relief. Then, resolve.

“My lord. We ought to have an urgent talk, but not here.”

That is where everything was discovered: proof that his uncle had sent an assassin to slay Lord Brandon, Torrhen blackmailing everyone, and how slowly he had sabotaged Rodrik to take over Bear Island, and the deep corruption he had created: violence, stealing from the smallfolk, killing those who sought to restore him, and how he planned to sabotage his marriage by poisoning him and blame it on a clueless woman as a jealous act.

Simmering with anger, he looked at the lords “Find those who’d support me. Steal the ancestral sword and bring it to the Mormont hunting lodge under the excuse of another of my parties. In two days’ time, we’ll strike.”

“Tell us what to do, my lord.”

With the sword and supporters at the secret passage inside the castle, he rallied his men there and told him the exact instructions: kill the traitors, spare the women and children, make their deaths quick. He’d take care of Uncle Torrhen like a true Mormont.

As he casually slid into the room where the men laughed and drank, madams and whores on their laps, many looked up to see a sober and tall Lord Rodrik. Despite his head throbbing, needing alcohol, he still held his head high, and stood against his seated uncle “I believe this is my seat. Thank you for warming it up, uncle, but I shall lead the festivities today.”

Begrudgingly, he got up and mockingly let him seat. Madams that he trusted had been replaced by the ones his uncle planned on attending, although he didn’t know of said trade, as planned. Three cupbearers served a very special wine. Not quite wine, not quite poison for his uncle’s lackeys. He raised his hand, calling for silence “A toast! For today, I take my rightful seat and pry it off those who’d threaten the goodwill of the Mormonts. A new era has arrived, and soon everything will fall into place.” Many of the men were sweating at this new play, thinking the same: he should be drunk and buried in a madam’s bosom, not here being the lord. He smiled. “But before the grand surprise, another final announcement: my good sister Aurynn has been betrothed to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, and, in her eternal kindness, Princess Rhaenyra has offered me the hand of her niece, Baela Targaryen.” Murmurs erupted from his uncle’s men. He should be announcing his engagement to a Greyjoy. His uncle hissed something, but he ignored it. “Drink, to a prosperous future��� and learning not to underestimate my power.”

That is when the sedative kicked in. All of them fainted, and the rest panicked. Like clockwork, his men sneaked upon the minor traitors and quickly slit their throats. His uncle tried to flee, but Rodrik tackled him and slammed him against the desk, Longclaw in his hand “Going somewhere, uncle? Before having a chat with me? Quite rude. Guards!” Then, he knocked him out, and took him to the planned cage, outside in the cold, cruel winter. They stripped him, beat him, cut off his hair and braids and chained him wound tight. As the sun rose, they took him out and placed him on his knees “You stand accused of high treason, murder, aiding abetting, corruption, and betraying your oath to the rightful heir. How do you answer to these crimes, Lord Torrhen?”

Gritting his teeth, he mumbled “I—I only did… what I thought best—,”

He got up, gripping Longclaw “The only thing you think about is your own greed. I’ve read all your letters. Your men have confessed under torture. The others are dead or on the run to Essos. Confess, and I shall make your death quick.”

“I… did it f-for… t-the rightful h-heir…” He looked at him coldly “Aegon Targaryen.”

He only shrugged coldly “Suit yourself. I shall marry Baela to right this wrong, and you’ll be too busy getting to know the worms underground.”

He cut off his head expertly, and nodded to the men outside to do what he had commanded ahead of the interrogation: execute the men the same way publicly as he himself announced the pardon to Torrhen’s prisoners and victims, and his departure to wed Baela… and bring her as the new Lady of Bear Island in three moons’ time.

As the memory faded, he noticed he wasn’t alone. Instead, stood the reason he had come here at all. Lady Baela Targaryen. He did a quick bow “My lady. Couldn’t sleep either?” They had talked here and there, and Rodrik had thrown Baela’s way some charming compliments and always made sure that fresh flowers and tokens were given to her, and always stood by her side during council meetings, where they were cupbearers and, of course, Rodrik spoke per House Mormont’s interests, which Baela seemed interested. This was their first talk since they had sat down and talked about how they felt about their marriage.

Baela shrugged “I always had trouble sleeping.”

Without needing to ask, Rodrik also got her a glass of water, and handed it to her “I suppose marrying a complete stranger isn’t how you imagined your wedding. You grew with Jace, and Jace with my sister, but not me.”

“Bear Island needed its heir’s presence. Besides, this engagement caught everyone off guard.”

“It sure did. But now that we are here… if you wish to get to know me, you only need to ask. I have nothing to hide from my future wife.”

Baela observed him, and then asked “How do you feel about fiery tempers?”

“I like a woman with character, and Bear Island’s lifestyle is cold and crude sometimes. I’ll need a strong wife by my side who can take it all.”

Baela’s eyes softened, an amused look on her face “Do you have some place to store Moondancer?”

“I do. It’s being perfected to cater your dragon’s tastes as we speak.”

“So my dragon doesn’t intimidate you?”

Rodrik shrugged, smiling “Every man in Westeros is a bit fascinated with dragons.”

Baela got closer to him “People whisper of your philandering. What are your honest declarations about it?”

“It is true, but for you, Lady Baela, I want to leave it in the past and focus on my wife.”

“For me, you say?”

He stroked her cheek, being almost against the table, and whispered “For you, Baela Targaryen. You have quite that effect.”

She smiled cheekily “Do I terrify you?”

“A bit,” he casually confessed “every man ought to be wisely a bit scared of his Targaryen wife. But again, I’ve always had a fondness for terrifying women.”

Baela chuckled, her hand tracing the neckline of his open nightshirt “Why me, Rodrik Mormont?”

His hand kept stroking her cheek, his other hand lingering close to her waist “Because my advisers might be right. You are what Bear Island and I need. A strong woman with a fiery temper and a bravery to endure this war and bring prosperity to Bear Island.”

They were close. Very close. Sparks were flying among them. It didn’t help that Baela was almost straddling him against the wooden desk, her hands on his shoulders, almost nose-to-nose. She then whispered “And do you believe them?”

He firmly seized her waist with his hand and whispered back “I am here, in this kitchen, showing you my cards, am I not, Lady Baela?”

“Yes, but can you handle the heat I bring?”

He smirked, rather sinful thoughts roaming his mind “I may be of ice, but give me some credit.”

He could kiss her. Hell, he could take her right there. She didn’t seem to be shy about it. In fact, she seemed willing. The way her dark eyes looked at him was equally smouldering and sinful. But then, he remembered what his advisor had said. Despite his urges, Baela was a respectable lady, and he needed to prove that he could be a gentleman. The order was clear: he was not to soil her until they were pronounced man and wife, and he was not to even look at other women ever again if he wanted this to work.

Taking a painstakingly deep breath, he gently broke the embrace and gave her an apologetic look “Pardon me, my lady. I’ve yet to remember myself. We should go to bed before we do something we might regret… and incur the princess’ wrath, or worse, your father’s.”

Without waiting for her to convince him, he curtsied and left the kitchen, heart pounding in his chest.

Dodged an arrow by a mile. The last thing he needed was to meet Vaemond Velaryon’s fate for thinking with his cock rather than his head. He had arrived expecting a vain and entitled princess to coddle, but getting to know the woman had been a different experience. He had been walked on by women in very odd scenarios, but this was different. Baela was an innocent woman, as far as he knew –but if she wasn’t, then he wouldn’t mind much—and there seemed to be a connection forming between the two. He had never felt the magnetic pull he felt towards Baela. He had many women in his lap –and other most private places—but Baela’s attention felt rewarding. He had found in her a fascinating woman that fuddled and intrigued him. Even if he had played confident, deep inside he was nervous. Never once a Targaryen had wed a Mormont. This was a unique match. His house—his and Lynn’s—tied to not one, but two Valyrian descent houses. The pressure was on from everywhere. He knew she was his duty first, but he wouldn’t be honest if he didn’t admit he wanted to give her a shot, because he wanted to be an honest man from now onwards.

Morning came once more, as he was woken by a servant, Rodrik blinked several times, not used to being woken by early morning, waking up normally at late noon. Sighing, he asked “What do we got today? Seating arrangement? Dance rehearsal, perhaps?”

The servant cleared its throat, clearly concerned “You are to spend a whole day hunting with Prince Daemon, my lord.”

“Ah, a chance to get to know Lynn’s betrothed as well—,”

“Alone.”

Oh fuck.

Oh, fuck.

[atopvisenyashill]

THE WIDOWS OF WINTERFELL: A True Telling of the Trials and Tribulations of Sansa & Serena Manderly Stark, as written by Coryanne Martell of Bear Island

Though the First Men, the Andals, and most of the Valyrians hold with the tradition that a daughter must always come before an uncle in matters of succession, the truth of this is that inheritance does not always - or even usually - follow such strict traditions. There are variances not only between the kingdoms that make up Westeros, but throughout the world as to whether a Lord or King's wealth and role may pass to a son, daughter, brother, sister, or even a relative further removed. These variances amongst traditions include the Iron Throne itself, where no woman nor man descended from a woman has ever sat, the Dornish and their Rhoynar tradition of age based succession - and, more recently, the North, which holds a similar age based succession tradition.

This tradition traces its origins to the succession crisis of Winterfell in the year 175 AC when a short - but tense - stand off occurred between Sansa Stark and her younger uncle, Jonnel Stark. Sansa, being the daughter of Jonnel's older brother, would have come first when holding to traditional succession laws, as would her sister Serena. The issue was seemingly resolved by the marriage of both sisters to their eldest uncles, Jonnel and Edric, with Jonnel being named Lord of Winterfell and Sansa his lady. In truth, the Sisters Stark had only begun their war of words against their young uncles.

Much of our knowledge of that time comes from the account of the succession crisis set down by Torrhen Stark and edited several decades later by Maester Walys, as well as the many letters sent to close friends while they plotted and planned - and the grumblings of their detractors in the North as well as the South. The judgement of their actions is varied; some called the Sisters Stark overreaching tyrants, more interested in their own power than having any true interest in what they called the rights of heiresses. Those that loved the sisters believed Sansa to have as tender a heart as any woman but with the cold pragmatism of the old Kings of Winter, and Serena an intellect to rival a Grand Maester that she hid behind charm and courtesy. Whatever the judgement of their actions, their impact on Northern succession law cannot be mistaken.

SOME NOTES HERE

The names are NOT listed in age order or the graphic doesn't work. Sue me!!!

My characterization for Jonnel, Edric, Barthogan, and Brandon is based off the very vague idea that the North “lamented” the loss of Rickard because the rule of his sons was “troubled” as they were just, not that good at being Lord of Winterfell, except in this version Sansa and Serena get frustrated with that and just refuse to let go of the North when Jonnel dies, and make their beef the North’s problem by going “actually succession is strictly age and not gender based now, new rule.”

read more here, this idea came from me trying to justify absolute primogeniture being recent in the North, for maximum drama between the Starklings and also to give Ned a heart attack.

This timeline is held together mostly on vibes lksjfd I might update the concept as I go along but I got tired of trying to piece together the ages and death dates.

I genuinely have like a novella worth of F&B style lore to back all of this up. Here is only a tiny little bit of it-

Cregan sends Sansa to the Maidenvault to be a companion to Elaena Targaryen. She is one of very few Northern girls sent, and likely (definitely) sent to ensure she could not develop proper support in Winterfell to rival Cregan's sons.

She is recalled to Winterfell once Baelor the Blessed dies, because Cregan Does Not Fuck With Viserys Like That, but Cregan hems and haws about her marriage match until the day he dies.

After she realizes Jonnel intends to cut Serena/Cregard out of the line of succession, she starts building alliances not just in the North but in the South as well. Elaena and Alyssa (one of Rhaena's daughters, Alyssa Hightower, because it is the funniest name!) help her find matches for Cregard, Aregelle, and Aranna that come with influence, money, and a small household ready to move into Winterfell and loyal only to Sansa and Serena.

Cregard marries a northerner, Robyn Ryswell, to gain the Ryswells as an ally. More than that, it was important to Sansa that Cregard marry a Northerner, because some talk about them being ~poisoned by Southron ambitions~ bc she was raised in the Capital.

Torrhen, Cregard's twin brother, marries Rhaella Hightower, or what Alyssa, Elaena, and Sansa refer to as Rhaena and Garmund's Oops Baby. Younger than her sisters by over a decade, Rhaella is doted on, and comes north with a large household and a small fortune.

Aranna is the first match Elaena and Sansa set up though it's not for politics (it happens before Edric dies) but because of their fondness for each other - Elaena's son, Jon Waters, with Serena's oldest girl. I know there’s the bastard thing but executive decisioning that Jonnel and Edric are excited about it - they grew up hearing all sorts of stories about Alyn Velaryon and they can't help but think it's both very cool and potentially useful to have his bastard son with a Targaryen princess in Winterfell.

Aregelle's husband, Garin Martell, is not from the direct line of the Martells aka a brother to Myriah and Maron. He is however, part of the household sent to protect Myriah when she comes North to marry Daeron in 169, as a squire. Elaena suggests the match and also hints at the idea that she wants a Dornish influence in the North to help Sansa and Garin is like "say no more, that's hilarious."

The match between Lyanna and Galeo Cassel is made by Serena. Galeo Cassel was a merchant from Braavos who made his home in winter town, finding he much enjoyed the cold weather and the odd, serious ways of the Northerners. He becomes a close friend of Serena's while Sansa is in the South, and is rewarded with a marriage match, when he designs a sigil - he tells everyone who will listen that the single wolf is Cregan, the two wolves are Sansa & Serena, the three wolves are him, Lyanna, and his brother, and the four wolves are their children (who haven't been born yet). Being the richest man in winter town, his support and fondness for the girls becomes important to their goals. Yes I worked in an origin story for House Cassel.

Sansa reaches out to every aunt she has with the promise of fantastic matches for all their kids if they back her claim against Barthogan. I simply did NOT have the room for all of the kids, hahahaha, but this is how she gets the Norreys, Umbers, Ryswells, and Blackwoods on her side - all of a sudden, they get to jump the line over her uncles AND they’re offloading their spare kids into other people’s castles. In return, she gets second son Leo Blackwood's own son, Ronnet, a sweet match with a Tully, and they marry back into the family a generation later. She gets the Ryswells a sweet match as well with Cregard, obviously, and will get the Umbers one soon (hold that thought).

Alysanne Stark, daughter of Torrhen and Rhaella Hightower, is their oldest child. She, Edrick, and Addam and Elaena are all close, growing up in Winterfell together. Alysanne, who married Jason Blackwood, is given some land in the Wolfswood to settle, and the two eventually form their own cadet house, at first called House Stark of the WolfsWood but eventually it is shortened to Starkwood. Elaena Soranys, a name she later takes on to rid herself of the taint of bastardry, marries the heir to House Umber. Olyvar marries the heir to House Mormont, Janna, and his second born child - they have four daughters in total - establishes House Martell of Bear Island.

I haven’t decided if it’s more likely that the Martells of Bear Island are just, this random Martell cadet branch in the North that by present day just doesn’t look Dornish at all and has no relationship to Dorne or the main Martell branch, but kept the Martell name, OR if Bear Island is like, just a Little multicultural because the presence of its original Dornish founding member is enough to draw the presence of more Dornish people to Bear Island. I was picturing kinda like the Marches, where you can see through the names and marriages a bit of a mixing of the two dominant cultures there, like a lil sprinkling of southron influence seeping through.

I still wanted to keep the concept of a succession crisis when Dunk and Egg get to the North SO! Brandon still marries Alys Karstark - a match Sansa fights against loudly - and Beron still marries Lorra Royce and has several children (i stole some of them for other characters though). Cregard dies before his mother and Serena, who is old, frail, and sickly, rules in name alone when Sansa finally passes - the rule of Winterfell is mostly in the hands of her grandson, Edrick. He marries a Manderly, and they have one child that lives to adulthood, Arsa, though she has a number of cousins all eager to be her favorite - including, eventually, her cousin William.

After William’s wife, Gillian’s Glover, dies in the birthing bed, Arsa sends for a nursemaid to care for his son, Brandon. Though Brandon dies soon after the nursemaid, Nan, gets to Winterfell, a grieving William is touched by his cousin’s care.

When Sansa dies, and Edrick is fatally wounded not long after, Dunk and Egg walk into a succession crisis. While several first born daughters have inherited since Sansa and Serena's changes - Janna Mormont, Corlynne Cerwyn, Arya Flint, and Serena Hornwood - the very short rule of Edrick and the premature death of Cregard has everyone on edge about yet another ruling Lady of Winterfell. As Edrick lay dying, Westeros’ nosiest squire and most upon knight roll up to the castle, curious as to why every single Stark is suddenly at Winterfell.

Also, here are the invented sigils, the Mormont Martell words are not serious but I imagine their words are similarly metal:

[the-fiction-witch]

I Know

Media - Game Of Thrones S8 Characters - Bran Stark / Jon Snow / Daenerys Targaryen Couple - Jon X Daenerys (Kinda Sort of) Rating - 15 Word Count - 2169

Daenerys remained with her dragons, ensuring they always had ample food, bedding and comfort. She feared for them this far north, in the endless cold and snow, the likes of which they had never before felt.

Even though the halls of Winterfell were warm, they were not welcoming.

Daenerys was a stranger to this place, a foreign queen from across the narrow sea. With titles and armies unknown to these lands.

She felt happy that they feared her, a good queen should be feared!

But… she pondered the many battles she had won, from the love and devotion of those who served her.

“My Queen,” A voice broke through the snow,

Daenerys turned to see Jon Snow approach, she stepped closer and nodded for him to speak,

“My brother, he wishes to speak with you.”

“May I ask why?”

“He would not say,” He answered as he adjusted his glove, “There is a fire, hot food, ale.”

“I will hear his words,” she ignored his other offers, “Lead me.” She commanded,

Jon nodded and led Daenerys to the chamber where Bran had taken residence.

Bran sat as he had for days now, vacantly staring beyond the walls of Winterfell. As cold as the snow and as quiet as the night.

“Brandon -” Jon spoke up,

“I know who is here. And I know why they are here.” Bran replied his tone distant and solemn,

“And yet your queen does not know why.” Daenerys stepped closer,

“I know,” Bran turned slowly to meet her eyes, “A pleasure to finally meet you, Mother of Dragons.”

“I am your queen. I have-”

“You have sat the throne on Dragonstone. I know.” Bran interrupted, “I will call you a queen if you so desire the name. I have found simply allowing such lies is easier than correcting them so often.”

“Lies? My title as queen is not a lie.”

“Isn’t it?” He asked, “No crown had yet rested on your head, and no crown shall rest on it hence.”

“I have worn the crown of the queen of Meereen.”

“You did, I know.” He nodded, “A dusty relic, was it not?” He asked, “By the time in which you arrived at Meereen the kings of old were but a thousand years prior. Slavers had long ruled Meereen.”

“And I removed them. I conquered them. I freed them.” She snapped,

“And yet they rebelled. Every step of the way.”

“Is this what you wanted to discuss with me? My titles and my prior rule?”

“No.” Bran replied, “I have asked you to come, simply because you need to listen.”

“And what is it? That I so desperately need to listen to?”

“You must not march on King’s Landing, My queen,” Bran told her,

“And why not?” Daenerys asked, “My crown and my throne are being held by a tyrant. A Mad queen. A Raging Lioness.” she explained, “Cersei calls herself queen of the seven kingdoms!” her rage broke through,

“She does. I know.” Bran nodded, “Cersei Lannister holds the throne, the crown, the capital and the kingdoms.”

“And I am to take them, tell me how I am to do so without marching on Kings Landing?”

“By what right?”

“-What?” she choked,

“By what right is it your throne?”

“I have every right.”

“Do you?” he asked, “Forgive me… if I have confused you, but I fail to see by what right is it yours?”

“My father sat on that throne. As did his father, and his father before him. And so has every Targaryen king since the very throne was blazed into its existence by a dragon on my ancestor’s command. By every right that Throne is my family, is my blood, is my legacy.”

“The throne is a chair.” Bran answered, “Nothing more,”

“The Iron Throne is the seat of all governance and law within the seven kingdoms. You know that Bran.” Jon told him,

“That is but a title it was given. Just as you were given King in the North, and as you were given Queen of Meereen. Given it for the lack of others, with no matter to your own.”

“I rebirthed my title as queen-”

“You claimed it, a seat you had no right to, no ancestor of yours had ever sat as a ruler of Meereen before. You claimed it, when no others would. When those descendants of the kings of old failed to do so, Just as the Iron throne was claimed by Robert Baratheon when no others claimed it.”

“The usurper-”

“As was Aegon.”

“You call the conquer. A usurper!” she yelled, “The seven kingdoms would be nothing but men fighting between themselves if not for a Targaryen king who united them.”

“He came, with fire and blood.” Bran answered, “And bent the world to his whim, regardless of its laws, of its kings, of their rights, their history. The kings of winter, storm kings, grey kings and royals sat on thrones long before Aegon. All of them believed their own thrones and crowns were theirs and yet he took them in his stride to become king of them all.”

“He conquered them. Brought peace to them. As I have to Essos.”

“Why then do you want it?”

“Because it is mine!” she screamed,

“…If you were sat on the throne of Meereen. And a princess from Westeros came to you. Proved to you that she was a descendant of the kings of Meereen, that the throne in which you sat was her’s by right, was her family, her blood, her legacy. Would you step down from your throne so the rightful queen could take it?”

“No.” She answered, “I conquered the throne. And it is mine by conquest.”

“Then tell me why that is not true of Robert Baratheon?”

“Regardless.” she snapped, “Why would I have no right to conquer the throne again? To take it from her. As he took it from my father.”

“You have every right.” He nodded, “As do I. As does Jon. As does Sansa. As does Theon, and Ayra, and Varys, and Tyrion, and Jamie, and Gendry, and Samwell, and Gilly. And yes… Even Cersei.” He explained, “You have as much right to the Iron throne as anyone else.”

“Brandon. This is no help to anyone.” Jon spoke up,

“I know.” he answered, “But they are words that need to be spoken nonetheless,”

“You have yet to use these words, to convince me why I should not march on King’s Landing.��

“Because thousands will die if you do.” He told her,

“You are sure bran?” Jon asked,

“I know.” He answered,

“And thousands will die if I don’t.” Daenerys said back, “Such-”

“Such is the way of war.” Bran finished, “It’s funny,”

“Enlighten me? Why is it funny?” she asked,

“Why is it, that when you open your mouth? So often your brother’s words emerge?”

“How dare you!” she yelled, “My brother was a madman!”

“And no less your brother.”

She scoffed, “I see, Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land. You fear that my brother and I land on the same side.”

“I do not fear.” he answered, “I know.”

“Who are you to tell me what I am to do? Who are you to tell me what I am? What right am I am owed? I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the blood of old Valryia, the Unburnt, the mother of dragons, the breaker of chains, the Khaleesi of the great grass sea, the queen of Meereen, the dragon's daughter, the bride of fire, the slayer of lies, the conqueror reborn, The rightful queen of the seven kingdoms!” She screamed so loud the room itself felt as if it shook, and her own words froze her to her core, as for a moment her voice was not her own,

“And the last dragon!” Bran told her, “And that too, is a title you took. From your brother.”

“He threatened to kill me, to rip out my child, and you brand me with his title?”

“I do not brand you with anything you didn’t take for yourself,” he said, “You took it, not because you needed to, but because you wanted to. He apologised, he stepped down, and he was at his weakest, he was your brother. And after all that he did for you… you didn’t grant him mercy. Nor did you grant it to the Dothraki Karls, Nor the Masters, nor the thousands of men, women and children that have stood in the way of getting you, your base desires.” He explained, “You did it because you wanted to.”

“How is it, that you claim to know so much of my brother’s words, of my ancestor's actions, of such certainty of what I did and why?” she changed the subject,

“Because I know.”

“You know?”

“I know with more certainty what will be, what has been, and why. More so than you know your own self.”

“Bran says the gods… speak with him…” Jon explained,

“Gods?” Daenerys scoffed,

“There is no Bran. Not anymore.” Bran answered,

Daenerys laughed fully, “You speak, for the gods?”

“I speak for the raven.”

“The Raven?” She laughed, “I have met men, who speak for horse lords, I have met men who speak for the sea, I have met men who speak for the whispers of flames.” She explained, “I have lost more than you will ever know to those who claim magic as their master”

“And yet you so often ignore it?” Bran asked,

“I have lost all that I love! I lost my brothers to the promises of glory, I lost my husband and my child to the promise of life, I almost lost my dragons to the promises of knowledge and peace, I have lost my freedoms, my choices, my words and years of my life. On men, women, warlocks and witches like you who claim to speak for gods.” She said as tears welled up, “How much more, do these gods wish to chip from me? Before I am nothing.”

“Everything.” Jon answered, “The gods desire everything, they wish to chip you away until nothing remains.”

“The gods have no mercy… that’s why their gods., Bran added,

“And how now would you know?” She asked,

“Because I have been beyond this vale!” He told her, “Because I have felt the sting, colder than ice. Colder than any winter. I have been beyond the vale of this world, and I have seen what lies there.”

“And yet you align yourself with him?”

“I do.” Jon nodded, “Because I know the fate that awaits us all. And with every moment of my time here I will prevent as much of it as I can. Because no one deserves a moment more of the eternity of misery.”

“Even if it means the pain of remaining here?” Daenerys asked,

“Death is no mercy.” Jon shook his head,

“Life is a gift,” Bran added,

“But no gift comes freely,” she said,

“Only death can pay for life.” Bran reminded her,

Daenerys glared at him, tears in her eyes. “And whose death? Would grant the gift of life to all those who would die if I marched on the capital.”

“…You,” Bran told her,

Daenerys began to tremble with pure fiery rage, “You dare to threaten me?” she asked, “When I have an army of unsullied at my command, blood riders sworn to my defence, dragons who were born in my arms, you threaten me!”

“I made no threat. I gave you an answer.”

“Jon Snow.” She straightened, “You bent the knee to me, sworn to me as your queen.”

“I did.” Jon nodded,

“Then I command you now, to kill this boy who dares to threaten me.” She commanded,

“Daenerys, he is my brother.”

“And I am your queen!” she demanded her patience wore thin, “You swore to me, so obey me. Show me whose side you are on.”

“Side?” he asked, “I am on no side. Not yours, not his, not any side! There is no side! There is no good, there is no bad! There are no monsters and knights! This is bigger than you. Bigger than me. Bigger than everything you have ever comprehended. I am sorry for the losses you have felt, I am sorry for the price that it is. But you cannot ask me to sacrifice everyone on this earth, for the life of you.”

“Am I worth so little to you?” she asked tearfully,

“If it meant that another was spared from that fate… even for a moment more.” He nodded,

“And yet you would force me to that fate?”

“For the sake of thousands more!”

“Who will die with or without me!” she yelled, “Fine… you have made your choice. And the next time I see you, either of you. I will place your heads on spikes and sew your mouths closed so I will not hear a single word from you again.”

Daenerys stormed out before Jon could stop her,

“What now do we do?” Jon asked,

“What we must do…” Bran answered,

[attonitos-gloria]

5,10,16,34. Or whatever you feel like answering! Want to hear your thoughts <3

BELOVED COFFEE!!!! <3

5. A dead female character you need to save

I already answered Elia Martell for this and it is Elia, it will always be Elia, but I would save Lyanna too - sorry that this is so predictable, it's just young girls should be allowed to be impulsive and make ill-informed, bad decisions without dying for it. and because at the end of the day I cannot bring myself to like Rhaegar.

10. A quote so good it makes you crazy

OH SO MANY I will give you more than one. Get this lying whore out of my sight and I will give you your confession. I feel like eating drywall every time I think too much about the implications of this one. The things we love destroy us every time is also a great one and then there's Bran with So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, I'm not dead either, that still makes me cry to this day.

But nothing hits as hard as It all goes back and back to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance in our steads. like the insight he had in this moment. oh my God. he figured it all out.

16. Favorite sibling dynamic

Obviously Jaime/Tyrion/Cersei. I hope they all kill each other horribly at some point. But you know who I also think about a lot? Lyanna and Benjen. Lyanna and Benjen growing up together in Winterfell while Ned and Brandon were fostered away, playing with wooden swords in the godswood; Lyanna and Benjen at the tourney in Harrenhal together, maybe Benjen helping her with the Knight of the Laughing Tree trick - I'm just so sure he helped her. Like he took the black after she died. ): we remember Ned and Brandon going to War for her but it always gets me that Benjen was waiting for her to come back home, and then she didn't. I always thought they must have been very close.

34. What’s something people get wrong about your favorite character?

So, I am thinking about how when Tyrion meets Shae, he hasn't had sex with anyone for a year, and how we are introduced to his character while he's sleepless in Winterfell reading a book and not in a brothel (apparently not a sex addict). and also how he notes that his father keeps silent during council meetings, and so he tries to emulate that habit, of listening before speaking (apparently a person who can and will in fact be quiet during critical moments, councils meetings specifically). And I think about how his first reaction upon finding out Joffrey killed Ned is - I can't believe this, joffrey of all people - to be sympathethic and say 'he's just a boy, when I was his age I was also stupid'. I'm thinking of him arriving at the Lannister camp, surrounded by people - his vassals, Lannister men - and going unnoticed, thinking about how lonely he felt but for a group of savage outliers he bought with his gold on the road and then, in this context of deep, profound loneliness and longing for human connection that could not be found anywhere, he went to Shae for the first time, a woman that he bought with his money, and that he sent Bronn to find for him, another friend he bought. i think a lot about him threatening cersei on alayaya's behalf, too. (one of his best moments, i fear.)

what i'm trying to say, very badly, is that george filled his chapters with so much raw humanity, and a lot of it is brushed away by people going 'tyrion is being self-deprecating/feeling sorry for himself' or 'tyrion is a bad person/a villain/misogynistic/just a rich guy' or, worse, a comic relief, and i just can't understand the awful lack of mercy that he's given compared to similarly horrible men in these books, jaime in particular. it's not that i think people get him completely wrong - he is a villain, after all, sort of a horrible person and indeed he IS a rich mysoginistic guy who feels sorry for himself a lot of the time, but then again, are you even reading the same text i'm reading? aren't we supposed to go through this process with him and..... be able to feel, as readers, at least an ounce of the compassion that he lacks in canon??? isn't that the point of his chapters, my God, or am i missing something crucial here?? it's less about wrong opinions and more....... the total lack of nuance and sympathy that gets me. naturally lots of characters suffer from that fate but with tyrion..... i just take it personally. it IS my life mission to obnoxiously defend tyrion lannister until i die.

but of course you know that already, lol. thank you for letting me vent, i'm sorry for the wall of text. you're great for that. i would also love to hear your thoughts on all of these questions.

everyone should ask me asoiaf questions <3