#Hot Water Kingswood

[abaplumbinginadelaide]

[horncastleposts]

[greenqueenhightower]

Alicent's Catharsis, Rebirth, and Baptism in 2x07–Religious Parallels: (Long Post Warning)

"You will be hated by all people on account of my name." (Matthew 10:22) "All my life I've endeavored to serve both my house and the realm, and somehow none of it matters. We are cast aside. Or hated."

In this scene, the sight of her own blood, as Orwyle tends to her wound, brings forth Alicent's realization: all she's ever done was in service to others at the cost of herself, the size of which doesn't seem to matter. Alicent's words contain the belief that her fate was preordained. With the vision of her childhood and married life fresh in her mind, Alicent has many reasons to believe her children and herself were destined to face the hatred of the world. Christ warned his followers of the same fate. Interestingly, Alicent doesn't simply say "my family," but "my house and the realm." Her psyche is torn apart by two opposing forces, her fealty to her Hightower heritage and her role as a wife and mother to Targaryen kings. No matter how much she tried, she hasn't been able to reconcile the two, and her devotion to both has meant disloyalty to herself.

"So I call you to witness this very day that I am clean from the blood of all men." (Acts 20:26) "Nothing is clean here."

Otherwise venerated in the body of Christ, Alicent's sacrifice of the red, hot blood she spilled and the scar that would be "easily hidden" have lost all their purity. That filthy room, that gown, that place, suck all life out of her dry. Alicent sought a witness to her life, one who would acknowledge her sacrifices. A voice to say they were proud of her and all she'd done. The fact that she must once again live in the shadows and hide herself and her wounds, makes the spilled blood feel cheap and Alicent herself feel dirty, body and soul.

"So they came to a spot named Gethsemane." (Mark 14:32) "To the Kingswood, I think."

Alicent asks Ser Rickard to be her sole witness as she seeks to reclaim herself. Her desire to flee to the Kingswood, a place with religious and prophetic significance where some have sought the white stag for guidance and self-confirmation, mirrors Christ's flight to Gethsemane, a place he felt closer to his Father in prayer, in the final moments before his execution. Just like Christ did with his disciples, Alicent takes Ser Rickard along to keep watch while she finds solitude in the Kingswood.

"I saw heaven opened, and look! a white horse. And the one seated on it is called Faithful and True." (Revelation 19:11) "I have to believe, that in the end, honor and decency will prevail."

Alicent challenges the Arthurian stereotypes of chivalry by becoming her own knight on a white horse. Paralleling Christ again, Alicent yearns to become Faithful and True to herself. She has spent her life devotedly faithful to her father's commandments, the principles of the Seven, and the expectations of a Queen. For years she has held fast to the belief that this devotion to honor and decency would be her saving grace. Now, all she had faith in crumbles. Seated on a white horse, grabbing her life by the reins, Alicent must become her own Savior.

"I still have many more things to say to you, but you are not able to bear them now." (John 16:12) "I'm not yet certain I do."

Alicent's mission forms as her first day of withdrawal into the serene landscape around her comes to an end. Her composure and calm demeanor denote that she has found some peace and tranquility in the time she spent with herself and her thoughts. Her mind is made up for something momentous, which she does not yet reveal to Ser Rickard. She knows that he wouldn't understand if she were to tell him. Christ knew he would be equally berated and misunderstood. And neither would her children now be able to bear all her words and actions, so she decides to stay away.

"In grassy pastures he makes me lie down; he leads me to well-watered resting places." (Psalm 23:2) "In all of King's Landing is there no one to take my side?"

On her second day of rediscovery, completely stripped away from delusions, Alicent appreciates the openness of the field before her. Having escaped the prisons of King's Landing and the Red Keep, Alicent embraces her loneliness. As a mysterious, almost divine force pulls her closer to the water, Alicent roams the woods alone again. But for perhaps the first time, Alicent is surrounded solely by trees and flowers. There are no walls, no corsets, no retinue, no handmaidens, no definitions, no boundaries, and no expectations because she wished it. There's just herself, stripped of anything confining, the vast expanse of water before her, and the limitless sky above. She looks so much like the sigil of her mother's house: House Florent. With her red hair and blue dress against the green forest, Alicent is a little Florent fox in the woods. Is she calling her mother's spirit to take her side?

"Purify me from my sin with hyssop, so that I will be clean; wash me so that I will be whiter than snow." (Psalm 51:7) "The gods punish us. They punish me."

Alicent's journey to the water indicates her reclaiming of freedom and agency. Her catharsis is to come, neither by receiving absolution from another person, nor by having faith in the Seven, but by her own hands. She alone can cleanse and baptize herself, and thus bound to a new duty to herself, offer herself a new start.

"They were baptized by [John] in the Jordan River, openly confessing their sins." (Mark 1:5) "I have sinned."

Alicent removes the last articles of definition before she immerses herself in the water. She now stands moments away from her new disillusioned self, rethinking her purpose in life and her own self worth. Like Christ, Alicent wears white. She is leaving everything and everyone behind to be reborn as her own Savior and to wash away memories and mistakes of her past. She is ready to start building a new tower of faith in herself, to replace the one she violently lost.

"The holy spirit in bodily form like a dove came down upon him, and a voice came out of heaven: 'You are my Son, the beloved; I have approved you." (Luke 3:22) "You must do this."

As Alicent surrenders to a new birth, her desire for freedom and escape becomes clearer with the bird's appearance. Finally free, Alicent enjoys simple moments such as this immersion in the lake she gets to experience alone, for the first time. Once again embodying Christ, Alicent stares at the bird flying overhead in awe, as if it were the holy spirit coming down from the heavens to declare its approval. The bird becomes the witness to her new birth and a sign of confirmation and blessing on the course she has chosen to tread. Alicent has made up her mind about the next necessary step. Even if Viserys' words have proved to be fickle, it is indeed she who "must do this" and try to save her family and the realm any way she knows. Will she sacrifice herself (or save herself) for the sake of both?

"Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, a sacred service with your power of reason." (Romans 12:1) "A true queen counts the cost to her people."

Alicent's power of reason compels her to not give up on her life but to readjust it to a much more secure course. As she yearns for freedom, Alicent mimics the bird's movements. How much she would like to fly away from everything, far from all this mess! And yet, her new resolve grounds her in a powerful way. By the end of her baptism ritual, Alicent has moved from the green backdrop to the lake's blue. Just as Christ regained memories of his pre-human existence, Alicent has claimed some lost fragments of her childhood and herself. This experience of retrospection, reclaiming of purpose, and newfound self-worth become a signpost for a new Alicent: the one who values herself more and adds the cost to herself in the tally.

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt.18

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Sandor Clegane: Tw: Death, Pregnancy, Joffrey being Joffrey)

AO3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

Both You and Cersei were pale as death and silent as the grave on the carriage ride back to the Keep.

That could not have gone worse if it tried.

Now not only would they have to contend with Stanis and Renly, but the entirety of the North would be howling for the Lannisters' blood.

When the carriage stopped, you were escorted by Kings Guard past rows of gathered courtiers who no doubt had already heard the news. 

Wide and curious eyes watched them, but your mind was still on the steps of The Great Sept. 

Lady Sansa's wails

The cries that filled the crowd when Illyn Payne drove the blade of Stark's own Valyrian steel sword through his neck.

The way Ned Starks head dropped from his neck with a rush of gore only to be presented to the crowd like a trophy. 

"Remember uh-" Cersei blinked as if struggling to keep track of her thoughts. "Remember to go see Pycelle."

"Oh," it had been the furthest thing from your mind, "Yes, Your Grace."

Pycelle listened carefully as you explained everything. 

"I can inspect you if you like My Lady" he sighed, "But it sounds to me like you already know the answer" 

"All the same" You nodded, "I need to know for sure." 

_______________________

Three months.

It was just an estimation, of course. But an educated one. 

It didn't feel right to tell anyone today. 

You were on strict orders to avoid riding, lifting heavy objects, and bathing in hot water. 

"Keep drinking the tea I gave you" the old man insisted, "it is important to keep the body in a constant state of balance."

Balance, you now understood, was in preciously short supply. 

Sandor found you sitting in the window of your shared quarters. 

He waited patiently for the news, but when none came he nodded. 

"We can keep trying, Love" he assured you, "There's no rush."

"I'm 3 months in," you corrected him. "at least we think"

Sandor withheld his smile. "You're worried"

His wife nodded slowly. 

"I thought I would be bringing my children into a better world than mine was" you gazed through the thick glass window pane, dark eyes stormy like the sea. "but, now I am wondering if I've just made things so much worse for them."

"Do you mean what happened at the sept?" Sandor scoffed, "My love, you had no hand in that."

You turned to look at him with hard eyes, your soft lips drawn into a hard line as you tried desperately to communicate something you hadn't the words for. 

Sandor frowned, a tight knot twisted in his stomach as he searched your face. 

"Y/N," he said your name in a slow, firm voice that commanded respect. "You had no hand in that. Yes?"

You looked away, body trembling as Sandor covered his mouth with his hand, trying to make sense of this. 

"What did you do?" 

Tears began to spill over your face, "I'm so sorry"

"Fuck sorry" Sandor growled, "you need to tell me exactly what happened. Now."

"It was Essence of Nightshade" you whispered, "in his wine skin. It was supposed to be a quick death but..."

Sandor paled and covered your mouth 

"NO. Not another word" he hissed, "who else knows about this?" 

"Lancel, his squire." You whimpered, "I gave him the bottle. He said he threw it away in the King's Wood so no one would ever find it."

Sandor was shaking, both with anger and with terror. 

He needed a moment, just to breathe. 

"Stay here" he growled lowly. "Stay right here, do NOT leave. And never in your life speak another word about this to anyone. It never happened, is that clear?"

You could only nod, if she tried to speak it would only come out as sobs. 

You had ruined everything, you knew that now. 

War was coming. 

-------------------------------------------

Lancel had never known fear as he had felt it with the Hound looming over him. 

"Please, ser" he whimpered "Please, don't-"

"I don't want to kill you, boy" Clegane growled.

The Kingswood was dark and lifeless at this time of night. Not a soul would have heard his screams. 

"Please believe me, I won't ever speak of word of it to anyone. I swear that by all the Gods, Old and New"

"I know you won't" Sandor was a black shadow in the darkness. "Because here is what's going to happen. Tonight, right now, we are going to go see Kettleback, and he is going to knight your idiot ass. After that, you are going to write your lord father and tell him you are ready to marry anyone, and I mean anyone, to get you out of the capital. You're going to leave, get married, and never, in your life, speak of this again." 

Lancel was shaking with horror but nodded as he felt like he should get out of this ordeal alive. 

"Tell me you understand, or I will bury you in these woods boy." 

"I understand. I do."

"Good."

_____________________________

 Sandor said nothing of it when you woke the next morning. 

When you'd finally fallen asleep, you'd been alone, wondering if you would even have a husband when the sun rose. 

But when the dawn came, you found his form pressed against yours and your heart flooded with relief when you realized he had not left you. 

At least not yet. 

Neither of you spoke as you dressed for the day, but your eyes flicked back to him constantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

"I've been thinking." He finally said as you made your way to the great hall.

"Yes?"

"It might be better for you to spend the rest of the pregnancy at Clegane Keep." He posited the idea more as a fact than a question. "It's quiet there, and smaller so you won't be on your feet as much. I'd feel more comfortable if I knew you were somewhere safe."

You gawked. 

You hadn't been outside the Keep alone since you were a child. Clegane Keep was in the far west, last even Lannisport. 

Your heart clenched. 

He was sending you away to be rid of you. You had made a horrible mistake telling him, and now he thought you were a monster and wanted nothing to do with you.

"If you think that's best." You breathed, "I will go." 

"We'll need the king's blessing first. Courtiers aren't allowed to leave court without clearance from the monarch." He explained, "It should be easy enough if he's in a good mood."

"I should tell the queen." You breathed. Cersei would not take this well. Perhaps she would fight for you to stay. 

"Not yet," Sandor shook his head, "Wait until we get the go-ahead." 

You looked at your feet and nodded. 

Sandor sighed and lifted your chin to look at him, making a concentrated effort not to look angry.

"This isn't a punishment, my love." he assured you, "War is coming, we both know that. And I want you as far out of the crosshairs as you can get." 

This made you feel better, even if it was a lie. 

The Hall was mostly empty, occupied by a few King's Guards stationed around the Iron Throne, and Varys. 

"Ah," His face perked up when he saw you enter, "I hear congratulations are in order."

"The dear Grandmaester talks too much, I fear." You forced a smile, biting back the urge to scream I Told You So in his hairless face. 

"Well, all my prayers are with you Lady Clegane." The Spider assured you. "But I expected you to be resting in your condition, whatever are you doing here?"

"Mind your business, Spider." Sandor snapped and Varys reeled back in mock offense. 

"His Majesty, The King, and the Queen Mother." A Herald announced and you perked up. 

The boy king was all a glow in red and gold brocade, tailed by his mother dressed in a matching style with her golden locks gathered atop her head. 

The collective of underlings bowed respectfully as Joffrey ascended the throne. 

"Alright, let's get this over with." He grumbled, readying for his first audience as king "Bring the interesting ones first." 

"If it please, your grace." Sandor cut in, "I have a request I fear is rather urgent, if you will hear it." 

Joffrey looked interested. 

He couldn't recall a time when his loyal hound wanted anything more than to kill someone. 

"Please." The boy sat up a little straighter. 

"As your grace has likely been told, my lady wife is pregnant. I would like your leave to send her to Clegane Keep for the remainder of her term."

Joffrey shrugged and opened his mouth to grant this request, but Cersei cut in quick as a flash. 

"Don't be ridiculous," she said too earnestly. "I mean, such a trip would be too strenuous for a pregnant woman."

"I will ask the Grand Maester to give his clearance before going ahead," Sandor eyed her challengingly. 

Cersei smirked knowingly, Pycelle was her creature through and through. 

"Let us ask him then. Lord Varys please summon the Grandmaester, won't you?" 

Pycelle arrived with surprising speed for a man his age, bowing and scraping as usual.

"Grandmaester, " Cersei began prodding. "We were just discussing the possibility of Lady Clegane residing in the Westerlands for the remainder of her pregnancy. "

"Ah." Pycelle nodded, "Yes I had suspected such action might take place. I did conduct a thorough exam of Lady Clegane in anticipation of this." 

"And would you not say a trip so long might be hazardous in her condition?" Cersei's eyes flashed, making the old man squirm like a worm. 

"Well, I would say that in these circumstances, it would be ill-advised to travel within the first and last few months." He nodded, "I'd advise around the 6-month mark, it would be alright." 

This was not the answer Cersei wanted but it was already out in the court. 

Sandor's skin prickled with irritation but he nodded, "Six months then. If it pleases the king." 

"It does." Joffrey had grown bored with the subject. "Let us move on to more interesting topics." 

"Y/N, my love." 

Your heart caught. Cersei never referred to you by your first name outside her quarters. It was too personal. Too Familiar. 

"Yes, my queen."

"You've been very quiet." Cersei nodded, staring at you deeply with eyes full of expectation. "What do you think of all of this?"

You swallowed hard and your mouth went dry. You didn't want to disagree with anyone, least of all Cersei.

"I-" You croaked. 

The pressure of a large hand taking yours calmed you a moment, enough to allow you to reply. 

"I want whatever is best for my child, your grace." 

Cersei's face was friendly but cold, and her eyes shifted to Sandor, narrowing. "Very well, 6 months." 

-----------------------------------------------

You stayed for the rest of the king's court hearing, but The Queen insisted you sit rather than stand. 

Lords and Ladies come forward with petty requests, mostly solidifying that the things they had asked for under Robert's reign would remain as they were. 

Next came the common folk to petition for safer lives, more food, and less taxes. 

None of those would come, but it would be good to at least let them make the request. 

Next came sentencings. 

Under Robert, sentences for criminals would be announced to the court but carried out in private. 

Joffrey had a different method. 

The first was a gang of thieves who had been robbing the wealthier residents of the capital just outside the Keep walls. 

They were sentenced to death by hanging, and you had expected them to be dragged out to the gibbet. 

You hadn't expected a rope to be thrown over a beam and the criminals hanged in open court. 

A few courtiers explained in horror, but most had the good sense to remain silent as the grave. 

You looked to Cersei who was maintaining an iron front the whole time. 

You must do the same, you knew. 

You were a killer after all, weren't you? 

Your methods had been less direct, but some died all the same and you had meant for it to happen. 

A few petty thieves lost their hands. 

A rapist his manhood. 

And a singer his tongue.

The whole time, you remained silent and tried to look without actually seeing. 

Sandor was right, you realized, he wasn't sending you away as punishment. 

You needed to get out of there.

[owenstark]

A NEW AGE

"As we bid farewell to those that gave their lives protecting the North, our way, and our people, let us also celebrate a new age. The beginning of a new age where the north will only experience growth, prosperity, and true survival. Our roads, the improvement of our great city and the addition of our newest market city. For the next 7 days and 7 nights we will celebrate the lives of our fallen northmen and prepare for the new year. A New Age!"

What's Happening?

There are celebrations being held in WINTERFELL to start the 14 day event for the Northmen. IN the Kingswood where a ring of trees and stones are being planned they will bid farewell to the fallen. there will be a feast held to honor the Manderlys for their efforts in freeing Manal along with their efforts allowing the Umber forces to weaken. Manal requested there to not be a dance during this faest.

The games at Winterfell are games of melee, wrestling, and a game involving a stick and a ball.

A second feast is held to honor Princess Cassana Stark and her safe return along with the capture of the Little King, his name no longer used. This feast will include song and dance.

The Cassana Games will be a series of different archery competitions.

Note: There will be a separate post about the market celebrations. These celebrations will move from Winterfell to Torrhen's Square, the new market city of the North's Western lands. (MARKET TO BE NAMED)

The Games take some inspo from historical viking games; Foot racing, swimming in the cold pools of water and the few open hot springs, tug-of-war, wrestling, and something that seems to be a very violent version of field hockey “knattleikr”

People can get hurt or die in the games as Northmen play rough, they’re not always as rough as they can be after things like war for the men are sick of death and dying. Women take part in games with other women, men and women do not wrestle each other, no field hockey, and no tug-of-war. No exceptions. These are hard games with giant Northmen and it’s set in stone the men will not play with the women and can become a point of irritation when women try to join and “soften” sport.

Children often take part in play with wooden swords, spears, and shields. Once again, young girls are often playing with dolls or decorating shields though it’s not uncommon for northern girls to have their own play weapons.

There are of course board games, very popular in the north for when the night chill sets in people will gather around fires playing these games.

Weight lifting: Carrying big ass rocks, or stacks of big ass rocks.

Drinking Games: Very common in the north.

Getting drunk and composing poetry

Arm wrestling while drunk

Verbal sparring while drinking.

Skin Throwing: Bear skin rolled into a ball and it is often played indoors, rugby is the best modern example.

[josswesterling]

Tides of Greeting: with @princeluce

The atmosphere in the castle had become stifling.  Joss had spent hours in the gardens to try and find a feeling of freedom, but the past couple of rainy days had filled him with anxiety along with keeping him stuck inside the Red Keep.  A few days after the weather had seemingly cleared up for good, Joss went down to the stables to take Desert Snow down to the harbor.  Blackwater Bay was nothing like the ocean surrounding The Crag, but the weather was hot and he desperately missed the feeling of water moving across his skin.  

Once the grooms saw him coming, they rushed to have his horse ready and saddled up for him the moment he arrived. He gently pet his mare’s soft velvety nose before he swung himself up into the saddle as a groom held the reins.  While there was a stablemaster and stablehands to take care of the horses back home, Joss had always been responsible for saddling and taking care of Desert Snow himself.  The change to allowing grooms and stablehands to do it for him felt wrong and slightly awkward, but he hadn’t found the nerve to tell them they didn’t need to do all those things for him.  He thanked the groom earnestly as he handed Joss the reins and Joss tapped his heels against Desert Snow’s sides, clicking his tongue to have her move forward.  He’d ridden in the Kingswood a few times, but never properly in King’s Landing itself.  

Thankfully, his journey down to the water’s edge was peaceful.  The townspeople went about their business, hardly paying him any mind.  It was nice to be so anonymous.  Joss’s face was well known in the areas around The Crag and he was used to being stopped for random chats or complaints.  Here though, a random noble heading down to the water’s edge drew hardly any notice at all.  With the royal family and visits from the heads and heirs to many great houses being a constant presence in the capital city, Joss simply wasn’t that exciting.  

Joss left Desert Snow at an inn near the water’s edge to be looked after for the next few hours, though he got the feeling the man in the stables had overcharged him.  Joss could have tied her to a tree and everything probably would have been fine but he didn’t want to risk the chance of her being stolen or hurting herself if something spooked her and she tried to run while still being tied up.  If he didn’t take the proper precautions, he would just worry about her the entire time he was out and wouldn’t enjoy his time away at all.  

Joss stepped onto the soft sand that led down to the harbor, untying his shoes and rolling his pant legs up.  Underneath his feet, the sand was warm and Joss couldn't help but smile.  This was the feeling he had been missing.  He went down to the water with his shoes in his hand, eyeing it warily.  He had told himself he didn’t care about the rumored uncleanliness of Blackwater Bay, but now that he was staring at it he felt a stir of anxiety in his chest. He didn't want to make himself sick.

[atlanticcanada]

Hammonds Plains Road reopens, all Halifax-area students return to school after wildfires

Hammonds Plains Road reopened to traffic early Tuesday morning more than week after wildfires began in the Halifax area.

Officials say the fires in the Tantallon and Hammonds Plains areas are contained, though crews continue to deal with hot spots and flare ups.

An evacuation order was lifted for the Upper Hammonds Plains area, off Pockwock Road, on Monday night. However, residents still cannot return to their homes on Bonsai Drive, Cypress Court and Yew Street.

The areas significantly impacted by the fires are not expected to reopen for up to 10 days.

The Halifax Regional Municipality (HRM) says residents in the area of significant impact can visit the Captain William Spry Community Centre in Spryfield on Tuesday from 9 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Residents will be able to speak with municipal staff about the status of their property and see photos of their homes.

The HRM also says major insurance companies will be available to speak with residents at the Canada Games Centre from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesday.

COMFORT CENTRE

The Black Point & Area Community Centre on St Margarets Bay Road is open as a comfort centre from 9 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. daily until further notice.

SCHOOLS

All Halifax area schools reopened Tuesday.

The Halifax Regional Centre for Education (HRCE) says the following schools have been inspected and no air quality concerns have been reported:

Bay View High

Hammonds Plains Consolidated

Kingswood Elementary

Madeline Symonds Middle School

HRCE says the schools have been cleaned and the air filters have been replaced.

Additional support staff will also be at the schools over the coming days to help students in need.

TRANSIT

Halifax Transit Route 433 remains on detour Tuesday, starting and ending at the West Bedford Park and Ride location 120 Innovation Drive.

The HRM says there will be no service on Hammonds Plains Road from Gary Martin Drive to the Tantallon Park and Ride.

WELL WATER TESTING

Well water testing kits can be picked up by residents in the evacuation zones on Tuesday from 7 a.m. until 7 p.m. at Station 50, located at 2050 Hammonds Plains Rd.

Halifax Water has also set up water stations where residents can fill containers with drinking water.

The water stations are available at the following locations:

134 Micmac Dr. at Micmac Drive Park

290 White Hills Run at Madeline Symonds Middle School

297 Pockwock Rd. at the White Hills Care Centre

711 Pockwock Rd. at the Upper Hammonds Plains Community Centre

FOOD WASTE

The HRM is providing drop-off food waste bins for residents in Phase 1 and Phase 2 areas that experienced power loss during the mandatory evacuation.

There will be drop-off bins at the following locations on Tuesday 8 a.m. to 8 p.m.:

20 Greenhill Rd. at the tennis courts

19 Glen Arbour Way at Eisenhauer Park

446 Sandwick Dr. at Sandwick Park

1452 White Hills Run at White Hills Park

120 Cedarcrest Dr. at Salty Dips Park

134 Micmac Dr. at Micmac Park

For the latest Nova Scotia news, visit our dedicated provincial page.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/2UcWt8Z

[nicksmith9599]

If you are looking for Gas Fitter in Emu Plains, then you must visit Job Done Plumbing Services. They aim to provide the customer with a product and service that exceeds their expectations.  https://is.gd/Job_Done_Plumbing_Services

[integra1127grimmreaper]

His Warrior Princess - Part five

Series Masterlist

Part 4

It was the third year after your mother's passing and your departure from Kings Landing, the day you had fled to Dragonstone and never turned back. That day you had sore to yourself to never step foot in Kings Landing ever again, and yet here you were flying on the back of Vhagar to make your return back to that cursed place.

Your reasons for doing so, your other half, your twin sister.

Rhaenyra and you kept in constant touch with one another through letters and she would fly to Dragonstone whenever she needed the comfort of her twin. During the start of your self-imposed exile, Rhaenyra had begged for your return; claiming that you both needed each other more than ever after your loss, yet you could not bring yourself to doing so. The image of your mother's lifeless corpse, lying in a pool of her own blood still too fresh in your mind.

Eventually she had accepted your reasoning and spoke no more of it thereafter. But as the years went by, your sister had become lonelier each day. With Daemon having been banished and Alicent ending up married to your father, your sister was left alone to drift in the dark waters known as the court of Kings Landing and felt as if she was slowly drowning.

You had mourned long enough for your mother and brother, now it was time to return to Kings Landing to be by your sister's side, to fight any and all that stood against her claim as heir to the Iron Throne. And what better time to choose to do so than at the second nameday celebration of your half-brother.

You could have made your arrival a day earlier, but where was the fun in that... and what better way to make a grand entrance than landing in a nearby clearing of the Kingswood upon the back of Vhagar.

Those standing outside the encampment watched in confusion as the Princess Rhaenyra stormed out of the royal pavilion, swiftly mounting her horse and fleeing the area in a fit of rage, her sworn shield; Ser Criston Cole, hot on the heels after her.

Just as all believed the drama to be over for the day, they were in for another surprise as the loud screeching of a dragon was heard coming from a distance, before they knew it; the entire encampment was overshadowed in darkness as the large form of the Queen of All Dragons, Vhagar, flew over them.

"Is that...?" Ser Harwin Strong speaks out loudly to his brother as they stared up at the sky following the dragon's movement after having heard the disturbance.

"The Disaster..." Larys answers with a head nod.

"I thought it was named, Vhagar?" Harwin looks to his brother in confusion.

"My apologies... I thought you were speaking of the Princess" Larys chuckles out.

"Princess...?" Harwin asks as they watched three guards, along with a fourth horse rush off toward the area that the dragon had landed.

"The Princess Visenya..." Larys responds, "she is the rider of Vhagar."

"The King's younger daughter?"

"And twin to Princess Rhaenyra" Larys replies with a head nod.

"I remember her vaguely when she was little..." Harwin remarks deep in thought. "She was the stout one between the two?"

"My guess is that you have not seen her of late then..." Larys chuckles.

"Not really" Harwin frowns, "why do you ask?"

"She is now known as the Rebel Princess. She was trained by her uncle, Prince Daemon, in the art of combat and swordplay like any other knight. She would even be out at night with the City Watch when Daemon was still Commander."

"A Princess being part of the City Watch...?" Harwin looks at his brother in surprise.

"Aye..." Larys nods smirking. "They refer to her as the strongest woman in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Strongest woman, huh..." Harwin softly remarks deep in thought.

"Not only that, but they also say that she has grown to be quite a beauty. That stoutness has grown into womanly curves, some would say that she is even more beautiful than her twin. Men have lusted after her since she was at the age of five-and-ten."

"Mmm..." was Harwin's only response as he stared off into the distance that Vhagar had landed.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Dear Brother..." Larys snickers, "but it does seem as if you have become enamoured with the Princess already..."

Before Harwin could utter a retort, the sound of riders could be heard nearing the encampment.

The riders came to a holt within the encampment, the three guards that had left, and a fourth dressed in black armour and helm. It was clear that the fourth rider was a woman, the armour being tight fitted on her body, visibly showing all her womanly curves.

Harwin watched in silent fascination as she dismounted without any assistance, wild silver-gold curls bouncing about when she removed the helm.

"She is..." Harwin stammers almost trance like.

"Beautiful" Larys finishes the sentence for him and Harwin silently nods in response.

"Seems as if you are not the only one whom has the Princess in your site."

Harwin looks to his brother with furrow brows, and Larys points with a tilt of his head toward Jason Lannister, who was staring lustfully at the Princess.

"Mere minutes ago, he was trailing like a dog with a bone after the Princess Rhaenyra and now he has his eyes set on the Princess Visenya..."

Jaw clenched tightly, Harwin could feel the anger in himself slowly rising up as he watched Jason Lannister following the Princess's every move with his calculating stare.

Part 6

Tag:  @missusnora​​  @alexandra-001​ @green-lxght

[stilesssolo]

If you are taking drabble prompts I would love to see the proposal! 💍😍

Lol so this has been sitting in my askbox for a good long while. I accidentally reread the second half of WTWTA the other day and got really inspired to finish off some of the prompts I made insta posts for but never wrote anything, so here you go anon! Sorry it's like a year late 😂 Also up on AO3, with the insta post! (There's also a part two to this that hopefully I'll have up tomorrow, since I wrote most of it at work yesterday.)

The day is absolutely perfect by any standards, the blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds, golden sunlight making the late spring foliage appear oversaturated and lush, like the trees are dripping with emeralds. Jon glances over at Dany as they drive down the road, her eyes closed contently as the warm breeze from the open window ruffles her braid, a smile creeping across her lips at the sunlight spilling across her bare arms.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep before we even get there,” Jon teases, his girlfriend’s eyes immediately blinking open. She grins at him, eyes darting to the back, where Ghost is sprawled out across his seat.

“I don’t think your dog heeded that advice either,” Dany says, shrugging. As if to prove her point, Ghost yawns hugely, shaking his head back and forth after.

“He’ll wake up once we’re on the trail,” Jon says, making the last turn before they hit the Kingwood National Forest parking lot. “Hopefully, anyways.”

“Gods, this weather is fabulous,” Dany says, resting her arm on the open window. “I wish it would stay like this forever.” Jon nods in agreement. It’s been raining like crazy for the past few days— but today, the sun came out, chasing away all the storm clouds, the sky truly spectacularly clear. Ghost had been so stir crazy from short walks in between bouts of rain that he and Dany had decided a hike in the Kingswood was a good idea if the weather was even remotely passable, but nature had outdone itself today, the picture perfect image of late spring in the Crownlands. It’s like it was fated, given what Jon had tentatively planned for today.

“Aye, me as well,” Jon says. “This is perfect. Before it starts gettin’ too hot.”

“Too hot,” Dany scoffs, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? One day I’ll drag you to Meereen, and you’ll see what too hot actually means.”

Jon laughs, flipping his turn signal as they draw up on the parking lot. “I look forward to you tellin’ me you told me so.”

“Mm. So do I,” she says smugly.

Jon pulls into a spot right by the park entrance, Dany grinning fondly as he throws the car in park. “I love this place,” she says, the two of them climbing out of the car. Jon opens the back door for Ghost, keeping a hand on his leash. With the sudden change in weather, they’re far from the only people with this idea, the parking lot packed with people and children and pets. Ghost will have to stay on leash, if the trails are this busy too.

“I do too,” Jon says, handing Dany her pack from the back before he grabs his own. “Always reminds me of that first hike we ever did together.” She smiles at him fondly, Jon’s heart pounding in his chest from saying that out loud, because that’s exactly why they’re here today, even if Dany is blissfully unaware.

He checks that his water bottle and Ghost’s are in the pack, before patting the front pocket, just to make sure he can feel the blunt corners of the ring box through the nylon still.

“You ready, Ghost?” Dany is saying, ruffling his ears playfully as his dog barks gleefully, tail wagging a mile a minute. “Yeah, you are?” She looks up at Jon then as he slings his pack over his shoulder, and her smile melts him, makes his heart kick into overdrive yet again.

Gods, he may be a nervous wreck, but he still can’t wait to ask her to marry him.

“You ready?” she asks Jon, pushing her braid over her shoulder, and he nods, closing the trunk and walking over to her and his dog.

“Aye, I am,” he tells her, grinning as she takes his hand, and lets her pull them forward towards the start of the hike.

[kellyfranze]

Light Water Plumbing Pty Ltd is the best place where you can get Burst Pipes Repair Service in Orchard Hills. Visit them: https://is.gd/LightWater

[rosesonbreeze]

@yeehawwrites​

verse: college au

location: batting cage at yale field

time period: december, 2021

The Pennington’s ask for nothing, yet provide her with a golden ticket - a full ride to the most prestigious law school in the country. All out of the generosity of their hearts, and the depths of their pockets. It comes from an intrinsically good place, as well. Lucy Pennington is all of mentor, mother-figure, and friend to Andrea. A helping hand as she navigates the realm of law school Ivy League, and the shark-infested waters of Corporate Law. She is good people, and when she sits Andrea down for coffee and cake that afternoon, she knows right away that her offer is exactly that. An offer. Not a demand. Not an ultimatum. Not a condition. She offers hers more than what is decent, even for a top-ranking student or a noble laureate, in exchange for her time and expertise. If it were anyone else, Andrea would hop on the opportunity and wave away the money. It’s the least she can do.

Until she learns that it’s Theo Pennington. At that, she hesitates.

He’s been in her realm for as long as she remembers. The center of the universe, for which all things cow-towed to fit. A picture of privilege, in a Peter Pan-esque spell. He seems to haunt her, like Wendy’s shadow. At Kingswood. At Yale Undergrad. Now, at his mother’s behest. Just one credit shy of completing his degree, and the Pennington’s were determined to push. Rightly so, for a man pushing thirty with nothing to show for it. But why they chose her? A belief in her work ethic and experience, that would somehow change their dishwater-for-brains son.

After a lengthy debate, she begrudgingly agrees.

The Yale Field is about as familiar to her as the several sports gear that surround her. The scent of hot dogs, sweat, and beer from this morning’s game flood the senses. As does, the looming dread. He is the thorn at her side, the proverbial anti-thesis of everything she is... Yet in him, is opportunity. A way to make her own course load more manageable, and help steady the stream of debts piling on the Alvarez’s dinner table. She has to be grateful for that. And so, Andrea repeats it like gospel, walking through the batting cages until his tall figure comes into view.

“Hey!” She calls out, but the resounding volume of baseballs being hit muffle her out. Andrea approaches closer, managing through a number of occupied rows, and eventually finding his. “Hey!” Andrea tries again, an irate growl soon to follow. “Hello-” Her voice is exceedingly loud, and is met with the sudden stop. An embarrassing feat that almost makes her flush - if she weren’t surrounded by less-than-brilliant athletes. Frankly, Andrea never bothers with the opinions of those with a dull brain. “I’ve been calling and calling.” She says, meeting his blue eyes from beneath his baseball helmet. A wave outside the net, and towards her. “Can you come out? I’d like to arrange your study schedule.”

[agentrouka-blog]

King’s Landing: Images of burning.

The show used a mediterranean setting for King’s Landing. White stone, paved streets. We saw lots of exploding rocks and rubble, but very little actual burning apart from the dragonfire itself. That always bothered me because it didn’t really look like a city on fire. 

The books will have a different take: 

Pate had never seen King’s Landing, but he knew it was a dauband-wattle city, a sprawl of mud streets, thatched roofs, and wooden hovels. (ACOK, Prologue)

It’s a tinderbox. Once it starts burning, it’ll be a firestorm with little opportunity for escape. 

Arya may be on the ground like she was on the show. She certainly gives us some intense images of fiery destruction on settlements and architecture in earlier books, to imagine the scene.

A day later Dobber spied a red glow against the evening sky. “Either this road went and turned again, or that sun’s setting in the north.” Yoren climbed a rise to get a better look. “Fire,” he announced. He licked a thumb and held it up. “Wind should blow it away from us. Still bears watching.” And watch it they did. As the world darkened, the fire seemed to grow brighter and brighter, until it looked as though the whole north was ablaze. From time to time, they could even smell the smoke, though the wind held steady and the flames never got any closer. By dawn the fire had burned itself out, but none of them slept very well that night. It was midday when they arrived at the place where the village had been. The fields were a charred desolation for miles around, the houses blackened shells. The carcasses of burnt and butchered animals dotted the ground, under living blankets of carrion crows that rose, cawing furiously, when disturbed. Smoke still drifted from inside the holdfast. Its timber palisade looked strong from afar, but had not proved strong enough. (ACOK, Arya)

This is a village and it lit up the horizon.

The barn’s on fire, she thought. Flames were licking up its sides from where a torch had fallen on straw, and she could hear the screaming of the animals trapped within. (…) Rushing through the barn doors was like running into a furnace. The air was swirling with smoke, the back wall a sheet of fire ground to roof. Their horses and donkeys were kicking and rearing and screaming. The poor animals, Arya thought. Then she saw the wagon, and the three men manacled to its bed. Biter was flinging himself against the chains, blood running down his arms from where the irons clasped his wrists. Rorge screamed curses, kicking at the wood. “Boy!” called Jaqen H’ghar. “Sweet boy!” The open trap was only a few feet ahead, but the fire was spreading fast, consuming the old wood and dry straw faster than she would have believed. Arya remembered the Hound’s horrible burned face. “Tunnel’s narrow,” Gendry shouted. “How do we get her through?” “Pull her,” Arya said. “Push her.” “Good boys, kind boys,” called Jaqen H’ghar, coughing. “Get these fucking chains off!” Rorge screamed. (...) “You take her!” she yelled. “You get her out! You do it!” The fire beat at her back with hot red wings as she fled the burning barn. It felt blessedly cool outside, but men were dying all around her. She saw Koss throw down his blade to yield, and she saw them kill him where he stood. Smoke was everywhere. There was no sign of Yoren, but the axe was where Gendry had left it, by the woodpile outside the haven. As she wrenched it free, a mailed hand grabbed her arm. Spinning, Arya drove the head of the axe hard between his legs. She never saw his face, only the dark blood seeping between the links of his hauberk. Going back into that barn was the hardest thing she ever did. Smoke was pouring out the open door like a writhing black snake, and she could hear the screams of the poor animals inside, donkeys and horses and men. She chewed her lip, and darted through the doors, crouched low where the smoke wasn’t quite so thick. A donkey was caught in a ring of fire, shrieking in terror and pain. She could smell the stench of burning hair. The roof was gone up too, and things were falling down, pieces of flaming wood and bits of straw and hay. Arya put a hand over her mouth and nose. She couldn’t see the wagon for the smoke, but she could still hear Biter screaming. She crawled toward the sound. And then a wheel was looming over her. The wagon jumped and moved a half foot when Biter threw himself against his chains again. Jaqen saw her, but it was too hard to breathe, let alone talk. She threw the axe into the wagon. Rorge caught it and lifted it over his head, rivers of sooty sweat pouring down his noseless face. Arya was running, coughing. She heard the steel crash through the old wood, and again, again. An instant later came a crack as loud as thunder, and the bottom of the wagon came ripping loose in an explosion of splinters. Arya rolled headfirst into the tunnel and dropped five feet. She got dirt in her mouth but she didn’t care, the taste was fine, the taste was mud and water and worms and life. Under the earth the air was cool and dark. Above was nothing but blood and roaring red and choking smoke and the screams of dying horses. She moved her belt around so Needle would not be in her way, and began to crawl. A dozen feet down the tunnel she heard the sound, like the roar of some monstrous beast, and a cloud of hot smoke and black dust came billowing up behind her, smelling of hell. Arya held her breath and kissed the mud on the floor of the tunnel and cried. For whom, she could not say. (ACOK, Arya) 

This is a barn on fire. One barn. 

There has been fire in King’s Landing before:

“Fire!” a voice screamed down from atop the barbican. “My lords, there’s smoke in the city. Flea Bottom’s afire.” Tyrion was inutterably weary, but there was no time for despair. “Bronn, take as many men as you need and see that the water wagons are not molested.” Gods be good, the wildfire, if any blaze should reach that . . . “We can lose all of Flea Bottom if we must, but on no account must the fire reach the Guildhall of the Alchemists, is that understood? (…)

Yet by evenfall the city was still in turmoil, though Bronn reported that the fires were quenched and most of the roving mobs dispersed. Much as Tyrion yearned for the comfort of Shae’s arms, he realized he would go nowhere that night. (ACOK, Tyrion)

They do have a functioning fire fighting system! But not one that will work in the middle of battle with dragonfire and wildfire involved. 

Apart from the Flames, smoke and ashes will kill the people:

The southern sky was black with smoke. It rose swirling off a hundred distant fires, ist sooty fingers smudging out the stars. Across the Blackwater Rush, a line of flame burned nightly from horizon to horizon, while on this side the Imp had fired the whole riverfront: docks and warehouses, homes and brothels, everything outside the city walls. Even in the Red Keep, the air tasted of ashes. When Sansa found Ser Dontos in the quiet of the godswood, he asked if she’d been crying. “It’s only from the smoke,” she lied. “It looks as though half the kingswood is burning.” “Lord Stannis wants to smoke out the Imp’s savages.” (ACOK, Sansa)

Sansa describes the view from above:

The smoke blotted out the stars and the thin crescent of moon, so the roof was dark and thick with shadows. Yet from here she could see everything: the Red Keep’s tall towers and great cornerforts, the maze of city Streets beyond, to south and west the river running black, the bay to the east, the columns of smoke and cinders, and fires, fires everywhere. Soldiers crawled over the city walls like ants with torches, and crowded the hoardings that had sprouted from the ramparts. (ACOK, Sansa)

Imagine running through a maze in the middle of a searing blaze, the air so thick with smoke it is impossible to see, impossible to breathe. Crowds of panicking people running alongside. Trapped trapped by walls, trapped by the river. 

Beyond the Mud Gate and the desolation that had once been the fishmarket and wharves, the river itself seemed to have taken fire. Half of Stannis’s fleet was ablaze, along with most of Joffrey’s. The kiss of wildfire turned proud ships into funeral pyres and men into Living torches. The air was full of smoke and arrows and screams. Downstream, commoners and highborn captains alike could see the hot green death swirling toward their rafts and carracks and ferries, borne on the current of the Blackwater. The long white oars of the Myrish galleys flashed like the legs of maddened centipedes as they fought to come about, but it was no good. The centipedes had no place to run. A dozen great fires raged under the city walls, where casks of burning pitch had exploded, but the wildfire reduced them to no more than candles in a burning house, their orange and scarlet pennons fluttering insignificantly against the jade holocaust. The low clouds caught the color of the burning river and roofed the sky in shades of shifting green, eerily beautiful. A terrible beauty. Like dragonfire. Tyrion wondered if Aegon the Conqueror had felt like this as he flew above his Field of Fire. (ACOK, Tyrion)

Enough said. 

The level of inferno when Dany sets King's Landing on fire will be apocalyptic. Survival will depend on luck, if there is access to underground tunnels leading away from the destruction and the smoke, open gates allowing escape from a city under siege, non-flammable shelter not directly under attack. 

This will be so very ugly. 

[xxlittle0birdxx]

WIP: GoT AU Fic -- Brienne and Olenna

The Queen of Thorns and our taciturn heroine. 

It was a typical late summer day for King’s Landing.  Warm and sunny, with the light glinting off the deep blue water of the sea.  The breeze had fortunately shifted, and it now carried the salty scent of the water, and not the less-pleasant aspects of the city.  Tarth was so close.  It would be a quick ride through the Kingswood to Parchments.  She could take a boat from there to Tarth.  Just a few days journey.  But she would leave King’s Landing and ride in the opposite direction and go to Casterly Rock instead.  At least the Rock was on the sea.  At least she would have the tides, the spray of saltwater against the cliffs, the sea and sky on the horizon.  It was better than nothing. 

‘You’re prompt.  I like that.’  Olenna’s voice broke through Brienne’s thoughts.  ‘Shall we?’ Olenna gestured to a pavilion, where a table was set for only two.  Brienne deliberately matched her pace to Olenna’s slower one.  

It was noticeably cooler under the shade of the pavilion.  Brienne tried to unobtrusively tug at the high collar of her tunic in order to allow a wisp of the breeze to sneak through the gap.  The last thing she wanted was a hot beverage.  But when a lady like Olenna Tyrell demanded you have tea with her, you complied.  In truth, Brienne admired the older woman.  She had no qualms letting others know exactly what she thought and cared even less what they felt in return.  She watched in silence as a maid brought a tray of honey cakes and another placed glasses garnished with lemon slices and herbs in front of them.  Brienne lightly placed a fingertip on the glass.  It was cool to the touch.  She was grateful for that, at least.  Another maid placed an ornately carved wooden box next to Olenna’s elbow.  ‘Yes, that’s enough.  Away with you,’ she snapped, shifting irritably in her chair.  Jaime was right, Brienne thought.  She does resemble a bad-tempered hen…  

Olenna waited until they were quite alone in the pavilion.  ‘Now it’s just the two of us.  Were you forced or otherwise coerced into this marriage?’

‘No.’

Olenna leaned back in the chair.  ‘And you’re aware of the rumors regarding Ser Jaime and Queen Cersei?’

‘Yes.  I am.’

‘And you still married him?’ Olenna snorted.

‘You don’t always get to choose the one you love,’ Brienne mumbled.

‘Speak up, girl.’

Brienne flushed and looked out at the water.  ‘I said we don’t always get to choose who we wed,’ she temporized.  

‘And I suppose Tywin wants you to bear children as part of this… arrangement?’

‘One can only assume so, my lady.’

Olenna pushed the box toward Brienne.  ‘You’ll need this.’  Brienne lifted the lid, recoiling slightly from the bitter aroma of tansy and wormwood.  ‘Do you know what this is?’

Brienne closed the lid.  ‘Moon tea.’

‘Do you know what it’s for?’ Olenna barked.  Brienne nodded.  She’d tried it once or twice. It hadn’t been pleasant, and her mouth crimped at the memory.  ‘Oh, don’t be so squeamish.  You lived in an army camp.’

‘It’s meant to prevent pregnancy,’ Brienne told her, like a dutiful child reciting lessons to her septa.  ‘Or end one.’

‘Keep that.  Drink it early enough, and you should manage to slip the child with no adverse consequences.’  Olenna leaned forward.  ‘Tywin Lannister won’t be truly happy until his seed is spread all over Westeros like a dandelion.  Mark my words.  The second you birth a child, he’ll have a marriage arranged with someone.  If not yours, then Margaery’s or Myrcella’s.  Or if the Imp’s managed to say sober long enough to get it up and put a child in Sansa’s belly.’  Olenna sipped her drink.  ‘I’ve lived a long time, girl.  We women control so little of our lives, we ought to be able to control how many brats we’re forced to birth.’  

Brienne frowned a little, thinking.  Her responsibilities weighed heavily on her.  She knew she would have to produce an heir for Tarth someday.  She was fortunate in that her father never pressured her to marry anyone for the sake of bearing children.  Tywin would not feel the same.  She wondered, for a brief, panicking moment, if he would change his mind about allowing Jaime to take Tyrion to the Wall as soon as they could leave the capital, and force them to stay until Brienne was undeniably pregnant. 

She slowly pulled the box toward her and set it in her lap.

[starrynightshade]

Pink

@thedesignateddriver asked for ‘pink’ and here it is! I’ve been sitting on this prompt for a bit, so I’m glad I finally got around to it.

The trip to Storm’s End was not half as bad as Arya had expected. Gendry had called the weather ‘favorable’ as their party descended towards the Kingswood but the bannermen that made up most of their group obviously did not agree with his assessment. Arya could see them wilting under the heat each day, like crops gone too long without water. Gendry didn’t mind it, and Arya had spent so long bouncing between various climates that her body seemed to take the ever increasing temperature in stride, but many of the men who followed them were northerners traveling south for the first time.

The Riverlands had been quite forgiving, offering clear skies and a comfortable breeze. Once in a while she would hear a long and almost forlorn howl off in the distance and her heart would stop. She hoped, of course, that it was Nymeria calling out to her but didn’t truly know until she had glimpsed a familiar pair of amber eyes as she was collecting kindling.

The wolf was even bigger than she remembered and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Arya was struck with an inexplicable desire to explain herself, as if the wolf would understand anything she said. Instead she held out her hand, letting the great creature sniff her wrist before pushing her head against Arya’s palm.

“I’ve missed you,” Arya whispered, although even she didn’t know whether the words were directed at the wolf or the wild and wonderous part of herself that came alive when they were together. As a girl she had often thought of  Nymeria when she needed to be brave. I am a wolf, she had told herself, and I will not be afraid. Sometimes it had helped, sometimes it hadn’t.

“Arya!” Gendry was calling from somewhere far behind her, his voice nearly drowned out by distant howling.

“Your pack needs you,” Arya told her. “Mine needs me too.”

Nymeria leaned into her hand for a moment before turning around and loping off. She paused to look back at Arya one more time, and then she was gone.

Now, as they entered the Crownlands, their only companion seemed to be the constant beating of the sun. They woke before the sun each day, trying to cover as much ground as possible before the heat became oppressive. A few days before, Podrick had gently suggested that they begin taking a midday break for water and rest and Arya had agreed.

They were half a day’s ride from Brindlewood, when Gendry sought her out. They had stopped to water the horses and Arya stood alongside her mare as she drank, stroking her sliver-grey side.

“Davos says we should make it to Brindlewood by nightfall,” he said, dismounting his own horse and leading the gelding to the water. “We could stay for a day and let everyone rest.”

“Or we could stay for a day and not rest,” she smirked, casting him a sideways glance.

Despite the heat he pulled her close, holding her back against his chest and leaning down to whisper in her ear. “It’s been too damn long since we’ve had a proper door.”

Arya sighed. “And walls…and a bed.”

Gendry kissed her neck, stubble scratching her exposed skin. The sound of someone riding up behind them quickly forced the two apart, but Arya let her mind wander as she led her horse back towards where the rest of the group was gathered. She would get them a room at an inn tonight and she would make the most of their time there. Storm’s End had sat empty for years now. Surely it could wait an extra day?

When they arrived in town their party split up, some to gather supplies before shops closed down for the night, some to a tavern for a hot meal and some ale, and two of them to a little inn off of the main street. Gendry tended the horses while she went inside to procure a room for them.

A young woman with hair the color of wheat greeted her when Arya entered. “Room for one?”

“Two,” Arya corrected her. “My husband will  be along soon.”

The girl raised an eyebrow at that, no doubt surprised to learn that the breeches-clad disaster in front of her had somehow managed to tie a man down. She kept her thoughts to herself though, which Arya appreciated. “Have you been married long? You look young,” she said instead.

“Four years,” Arya tells her and the girl nods thoughtfully.

She’d had the same exchange with every innkeeper she’d spoken to between Moat Cailin and Darry. They asked about her husband, then if they had children, then pretended not to pity her when she said no. She never bothered to tell them that it was by choice. It didn’t matter.

Perhaps, she had thought to herself as they traced their path along the kingsroad, when we are settled at Storm’s End I’ll stop drinking the tea. She didn’t share that decision with Gendry for fear he would get his hopes up. He would be an excellent father, despite his reservations, but Arya thought of the scars that stood out against her abdomen and worried.

Still, if she was going to be tied down with a castle to run and people to look after anyway, where was the harm in trying? Gendry had spent the last few years following her from one city to the next as she tried to do her part to strengthen the realm and never once complained. She knew he disliked the long days on horseback and the nights spent below decks of some ship, but he had promised to follow her to the ends of the earth once and he would not break that vow. Surely she could at least try to give him a child in return?

She was pulled from her thoughts by the innkeeper’s next question. “Travelling south?”

Arya nodded and the blonde offered her a small jar of green-tinged goop. “I can always spot travelers from the North,” she said, pressing the jar into Arya’s hand. “You lot burn easier than anyone. This ought to help soothe those poor cheeks of yours.”

Arya pressed a hand to her face, surprised to find it hot to the touch. No doubt her face was as pink as if she were blushing. “Thank you.”

“Are you staying in town long? The new lord of Storm’s End is meant to be passing through soon.”

“Really?” Arya feigned surprise at the news.

The girl nodded, leaning in closer. “I heard he’s quite handsome. Not that a married woman such as yourself would notice such things,” she added with a wink.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Fellow who passed through a few days ago said he ran into their party at the Crossroads Inn. He said the serving girls there couldn’t get enough of the lad, but he only had eyes for his wife. Makes you wonder if he really is the son of that useless old king.”

Arya was about to ask what the traveler had said about her when the door opened again. “There you are,” Gendry said, easing it shut behind him. “I thought you’d be upstairs already.”

“Not without getting caught up on the latest gossip first,” she teased. “Apparently you’re meant to be quite handsome.”

Gendry chuckled, pulling her under his arm. “Well, as you can see, he rumors are false.”

“It’s alright, love. I married you for your skill with a hammer anyway.”

The innkeeper seemed to struggle for words for a moment before gathering her wits enough to courtesy deeply. “Milord, milady, I didn’t realize…”

“Most people don’t,” Arya assured her.

“If there is anything at all I can do be of service, please do not hesitate. Anything at all.”

“A room is all we require for now,” Gendry said gently. “Preferably one with a door that locks.”

He didn’t say anything else, but the look he gave Arya spoke volumes. The poor innkeeper blushed so fiercely that, for a short time, her cheeks were as pink as Arya’s.

[ktwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen Characters: Ned Stark, Ashara Dayne, Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen Summary: The Tourney at Harrenhal was just the beginning for Ned Stark and Ashara Dayne. Robert's Rebellion was far from the end. The Quiet Wolf fell in love with a maid with laughing purple eyes. This is their song. This is their legacy. This is their tragedy.

For @tomakeitbeautifultolive (who made the beautiful moodboard for her own fic present lol).

Excerpt:

Winterfell- 284 AC

“My lord,” Maester Luwin said as he knocked on the open door of Eddard Stark’s chambers.

“Come in, Maester Luwin,” Ned replied as he stripped off his riding gear. Summer had finally come to Westeros and the afternoon ride had made him hot.

“A raven delivered this letter this afternoon. I believe it’s from the Hand of the King.”

Jon Arryn, Ned thought, pressing a damp cloth to the back of his neck. The last he had heard from the man who was like a second father to him he was preparing to leave King’s Landing for Dorne, to return the bones of the slain prince, Lewyn Martell. He held his hand out for the letter and broke open the seal.

Ned,

I’ve recently returned to King’s Landing from Dorne after brokering a tenuous peace with Doran Martell, thought if it were up to his younger, brasher, brother Oberyn there would be none. It is my sincerest hope that our kingdom can now begin to heal itself of the grievous and deep wounds inflicted upon it.

The Star amongst the Sun has given birth to a beautiful, silver-haired daughter with eyes of the palest violet. They almost appear grey. She has been named Alyssa and will be raised alongside the children who frequent the Water Gardens. All is as it should be. All is as it must be.

For the Realm,

Jon Arryn, Hand of the King

Ned took the letter and committed every word to memory before setting it aflame and dropping it into the hearth. The fire licked over the parchment until it was little more than ash, consuming the letter and the secrets it contained.

XXXXX

Kingswood- After the Sack of King’s Landing- 283 AC

They were dead. All of them. Rhaegar on the Trident. Aerys near his throne. Elia and her children...all of them, save for the Queen and Prince Viserys. King’s Landing had smelt of fire, shit, and death, but somehow she had survived.

The Mad King would not allow her to flee to Starfall, just as he would not allow Elia and her children to flee to Dragonstone with the Queen. He believed the Dornish had betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but she felt like her punishment had been more personal. A punishment for being close to Eddard Stark. Aerys could not have the Lord of Winterfell’s head on a spike, so he would hurt those closest to him.

If only he had known how close, Ashara thought as she looked over to Ned.

Read the rest on AO3!