#I went with Sansa leaving her a letter

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 8 | chapter 9

You would never love anything in this world the way you loved your first child.

The murder of King Joffrey was an unforeseen event even when everyone knew it coming due to his conceited attitude. He was never fit to be a King. But for all the wrong deeds he had done, no one would say he didn't deserve it.

Joffrey was poisoned on his wedding day. And Cersei immediately blamed her brother Tyrion, the one who served the spiked wine to the King as he was being humiliated in front of the guests. It didn't help Tyrion's case when his wife Sansa mysteriously disappeared after the crime.

The Queen was hysterical as she wept for her first son in her arms, demanding justice. You wanted to approach her, but that would only raise unwanted questions from the guests. Besides, Oberyn stopped you when you suddenly stood, ready to comfort Cersei, gripping your wrist as he did. It was only when Jaime ran towards the Queen when you managed to control yourself.

~~~

Cersei had started to shut herself off, ignoring your letters, ignoring your visits, even ignoring your attempts at making small conversation as you greeted her at the dining hall, as if nothing happened between the two of you. Grief does that to a person.

The incident caused the house Martell to postpone sailing back home, for leaving the Capital would only bring suspicion. The ongoing tension between the Martells and Lannisters were not a secret.

During the days you had extended your stay, you had made it your mission to seek justice for Cersei's son, no matter how he didn't deserve it.

You wanted to comfort her, you did, but when you saw Jaime came out of her chambers at nights almost looking disheveled, you knew you'd only be hurting yourself.

~~~

"So was it you?"

"Do you think I killed Joffrey?" Tyrion mocked, his gaze bored and on the ground. He sat on a small wooden barrel with drenched filthy clothes. The cell he was imprisoned was for common prisoners, but not for a highborn like him. "No. I wanted to. But no, I didn't."

Oberyn sighed, crossing his arms across his chest while leaning against the wall, as he observed the interaction. He insisted to come with you, no matter how he wanted nothing to do with it, to visit and interrogate Tyrion about the murder. Let them kill each other, their own blood, he had said.

"Can you prove it, your whereabouts, or doings hours or even days before the wedding?" Oberyn asked after a moment, seeing you troubled.

"Would it make any difference?" Tyrion stood, chains around his hands and feet making a noise. "Father doesn't care if I killed him or not. Cersei will never believe me that I didn't, of course she wouldn't-"

You interrupted, "But if you can only reason with her-"

"Reason with Cersei?" Tyrion laughed, his eyes rolling at you. "Look, Lady Y/n, I know you mean well. But do not be blinded by love. Cersei has always hated me and I will always be blamed for killing her son just like I killed our mother when she birthed me."

When he saw your frown grow deeper, he added, "I know you're in love with her."

Your eyes widened, filled with fear and guilt.

"I can see it in your eyes," he went on. "You two weren't really that discreet, you know. I think father suspects too."

"Do you think-"

"Cersei is not, well I don't know how to put this gently, she's not a kind woman, Y/n," he said. "So I suggest you lot better leave for Dorne and save yourself. You could be in my shoes if you weren't too careful."

~~~

It was four days after Joffrey's death, two days after his funeral, when you had managed to corner Cersei. She was staring into the horizon from the Red Keep's garden, the vast sea ahead. When she had advised her kingsguard to leave the both of you, you knew you finally had the chance to talk to her.

Carefully approaching her, you swallowed a nervous lump. Cold breeze from the sea made you shiver slightly as silence enveloped the two of you. You watched the Martells' ship from a distance, ready to sail in a fortnight, after Tyrion's trial.

"I watched my son die," Cersei began, "and I couldn't even do anything about it."

"It wasn't your fault," you said, finally facing the Queen. You then held her hand and squeezed it for assurance. She only let you, her gaze still fixed ahead.

"It was mine. Father said so. Even I could tell others had been judging me. I had been negligent, I had forgotten what I'm supposed to do."

"And that is?"

"To serve the kingdom, to be a King's mother-"

You stopped her, cupping her face as you did to make her look at you. "Cersei-"

"You will go back to Dorne," she ordered, her eyes boring into yours, a shadow of the Cersei you fell in love with present. "And never return."

Brows furrowing deeper, you sighed with a frown. "Let's not be-"

"I will never ask you to see me in my chambers nor in yours-"

"Cersei, stop!"

"You distracted me from my responsibilities," she interjected, her voice slightly rising and her cold eyes glaring at you. "Any actions moving forward will only affect my children."

"It wasn't your fault!"

"It was! My son wouldn't be dead if I was there for him!"

"You did your best," you said, holding her other hand as she began to walk away from you. "You were an amazing mother to him, even when he's not that kind of a person-"

Slap. "You do not speak ill about my son ever again!"

"I'm sorry, Cersei, but-"

"Leave!"

"Cersei, please don't close yourself off."

"The imp did this," she said out of trance, hysteric. "My brother imp did this. He's always hated Joffrey-"

"Hey, hey," you brushed her trembling shoulders, "you need to open your mind. And see reason. Tyrion might have his own reasons to kill Joffrey but do you ever think he'd actually do it? Because it doesn't seem like he did-"

"Get off me!" Cersei pulled away from you. "How dare you? I know he's been wanting to kill Joffrey since he was born."

"Oberyn had Tyrion list his whereabouts until the wedding day and Cersei, it doesn't really add up-"

"You talked to him?"

"Only to interrogate-"

"He and Sansa plotted it," she stated, nostrils flaring. "They both hated Joffrey. And with Sansa gone-"

"Sansa could have just run away because she was scared," you explained. "It's not possible-"

"I said leave!" The queen spat, punching your chest and you only let her. "You've already made up your mind not to believe me. You're just like everyone else. You're just like Jaime."

Your arms instinctively embraced around Cersei to stop her. Eventually, her fists curled against your clothes as she ended up sobbing into your chest.

Shushing her gently, you hugged her tight, your nose burying into her hair. Quiet moments passed as you both treasured the warmth from your bodies.

Until your heads slowly moved in synchronization, as your mouths met almost an inch close. Barely there. Eyes closed. Breathings hitched. Noses brushed against each other. As if one of you was terrified to close the distance yet desperately wanted to.

And you decided to place a soft kiss against her forehead instead.

"I'm always here for you, Cersei," you murmured. "Please do not ever forget that."

After a small pause, you whispered hesitantly, "I . . . I love you."

The Queen opened her eyes.

"What good will your love do?" Cersei said with a scowl as she pulled away from you. "Will it bring my son back alive?"

~~~

The ongoing turmoil inside you kept you awake most nights. You knew the worse was yet to happen, but it didn't stop you from worrying too much. Until one night, Lord Tywin sent for you to meet him in the council room. Your cousin Oberyn was already there when you arrived, ready to leave.

"Lady Y/N," Tywin greeted. You bowed shortly before opening your mouth. But then Tywin raised his hand to stop you. "I apologize for having to call you at a late hour. I was about to send another Kingsguard to disregard my prior request, given that I have already relayed my propositions to Oberyn and I trust Oberyn will be the bearer of good news."

"What's going on?"

Tywin smiled coyly as he placed a cloak around his shoulders, as if dismissing you. Oberyn walked towards you and pulled you out the room. He must have dragged you back to your chambers with difficulty, not with you always hesitating if he wouldn't tell you anything.

"Tywin knew about your affairs with Cersei," Oberyn began once you both were in your room. "He's suspicious about you getting too close to the queen without any objective."

"What? Does he think I killed the King?"

"Could be," he shrugged to which you let out a scoff, "especially when poison is known as a woman's weapon, Y/n."

You then fell silent, thinking of ways to defend yourself.

"You are to marry Cersei," Oberyn said, his eyes looking all worried.

When you only stared at him dumbfounded, he went on.

"Tywin suspects we had something to do with his grandson's death," Oberyn explained. "He doesn't believe Tyrion, his son, is capable to do that. And I know the Lannisters don't want to start a war against the Dornish folks for setting up a blame he cannot prove. So he made a proposal. For you to marry Cersei. You marrying Cersei would diminish doubts of any rebellion against them."

Somehow, your knees grew weaker as you leaned unto your bedpost before slipping to sit on the edge of your bed.

"Tywin and I discussed it at length-"

"When have you become friends with Tywin?" you interjected. "And aren't you the one insisting I should stay away from her?"

He walked closer towards you. "They believe sending your enemies far away is a disadvantage. I think Tywin wants to keep his enemies closer."

"Clearly, the ones who believe that doesn't have too many enemies."

"This is only to get assurance until we're safely back in Dorne," he said. "You won't be touched if you're married to a Lannister. Besides, that's what you want right? To be with Cersei?"

"Does father know?"

Oberyn shook his head as he stepped towards the window. "I have yet to tell him of the proposal. I'm sending a raven tonight. But I don't think he will take this lightly."

"What . . . about the Queen? Does Cersei know about this?"

Oberyn only stayed silent as he stared out into the dark sky.

~~~

There was a knock in your chambers later that night. Consumed with thoughts about the recent events, sleep was hard to get by. The moment you opened your door, a sliver of golden hair in white gown flew past you.

"Cersei, you could have been seen-"

A harsh slap met your face, almost making you lose your balance. "You think you're so wise trying to get into my father's favors?"

The marriage proposal.

"Cersei-"

Another slap. "I'm still your queen!"

"Your Grace, I had nothing to do with it," you said, slowly approaching her. Yet, she didn't want anywhere near you.

"Father wants to punish me," she declared, her stare cold. "Marrying someone like you is a punishment."

And curse to seven hells, because that hurt.

You controlled your temper as she went on, pacing angrily around the room. "Just like what he did with Robert. As if marrying you would have any difference."

And when you didn't answer back, she continued. "How long have you known me, Y/n? A month and a half! And you think we're already in love."

"I'll try to persuade him-"

"Persuade my father?" she scoffed. "As if that man ever needed persuading. He'd kill you, put your head on a stake for everyone to see if you disobey him."

"I'm sure my father would seek-"

"Your father?" Cersei snorted a laugh. "Who's your father, Y/n? What power does he have that would help your case?"

She went on, observing you motionless leaning against your desk. "You've wanted this all along-"

"Cersei, I had nothing to do with it."

She pursed her lips as she walked towards the door. Then she looked back, her gaze at the floor. "You'll never ever have me. Not while I'm alive."

People warned you about it. And now you were too stupid to believe this woman could ever love you.

(Author's note: I will change the storyline from this moment on, so the events might not be in line with the books and movie any longer.)

[winter-soldier-101]

The Conqueror’s Daughter Part 2

Word count: 1542

“Mother, are you okay?” Aenys asks you.

“Yes I’m okay, just a bad dream” (Y/N) tells Aenys as he leaves you alone again.

(Y/N) looks back at Aenys as he leaves and she remembers when she found out she was pregnant five years into Maegor's ruling he had taken (Y/N) to bed many times always by force she would cry out for help and beg him to stop but nothing stopped him all he wanted was an heir but the gods were cruel to Maegor and his wife’s the day before Maegor's death (Y/N) found out she was pregnant and went to tell Maegor but found his lifeless body on the Iron Throne wrist cut and his blood flowing out till he bled to death and (Y/N) yelled out and the tears slowly began her brother was gone (Y/N) had ran up to Maegor’s body and tried to wake him up but it was no use (Y/N) left and had Aenys in secret and hide him away from everyone.

(Y/N) read over the letter that Arya Stark had sent her asking for her help that her father was imprisoned by the Lannisters (Y/N) told Aenys and they both got on (Y/N)’s dragons and flew to King's Landing to save Ned Stark and his daughters.

(Y/N) flew Shadow and Aenys flew Snow.

Kings Landing

(Y/N) flew over the Red Keep and land’s Shadow and walked into the Throne Room and pulled out her sword and pointed it at Joffrey.

“Where is Ned Stark and his daughter? I want them brought to me now! Or I’ll burn you and your family alive!” (Y/N) yells out at Joffrey.

“Dog bring Ned Stark and his daughters” Joffrey yells out.

Cersei and Jaime came running into the room and stopped as they saw (Y/N) with a sword pointed at their son.

Ned and Sansa and Arya are brought out and Aenys comes in and takes them out to the dragons and (Y/N) slap’s Joffrey in the face and turns to Cersei and Jaime.

“Control your bastard or next time I’ll burn him and your other two alive in front of you both” (Y/N) tells them and she sees the fear in their eyes as (Y/N) leaves the Red Keep.

(Y/N) tells Arya and Sansa to get on her dragon and Aenys takes Ned and they head North.

The North

Robb and Catelyn are out in the courtyard as Bran and Rickon play but stop when a loud roar is heard over their heads and they all get down and some run and scream to safety.

(Y/N) helps Sansa and Arya off Shadow and Aenys helps Ned off Snow and they all head over to the courtyard and Catelyn sees Ned and her daughters and she runs over to them and holds them and lets out a loud cry happy to see them safe and home Robb and Bran and Rickon look over and make their way over to their father and sisters and hug them tightly as they let tears fall and look over to see (Y/N) Targaryen and a young man with her.

“Thank you for helping save them and bringing them back home safely” Catelyn tells (Y/N).

“Your welcome and I’m happy to help your family and I’m sorry to hear about your son’s fall my lady” (Y/N) tells Catelyn.

“Thank you and I’m happy he’s awake and back with us again but someone tried to kill him when he was sleeping and the man tried with this dagger” Catelyn tells (Y/N) and shows her the dagger.

(Y/N) looks at the dagger and takes it and holds it close and lets out a small cry.

“This was my fathers he had it made so long ago it was passed down from heir to heir along with Aegon’s dream” (Y/N) tells them.

Inside the great hall (Y/N) puts the dagger in the fire and waits for it to heat up and shows Aenys the inspiration on the dagger.

“From my blood comes the prince that was promised and his will be the song of ice and fire” (Y/N) tells Aenys.

The Starks look at (Y/N) then at the dagger and see the inspiration and Robb looks up at you.

“What does it say?” Robb asks.

“It’s the reason why my father started his conquest of Westeros on DragonStone my father had a dream that terrified him in his dream he saw death and darkness coming from the North and he saw the darkness take over everything and everyone so he knew he had to stop the darkness so he and his sister wife’s flew to Westeros and started the conquest because he knew only a Targaryen can defeat the darkness and a Targaryen must sit the Iron Throne King or Queen” (Y/N) tells everyone the story.

“The White Walkers?” Bran asks (Y/N).

“Yes I suppose my father dreamt of the White Walkers” (Y/N) says.

Lady Stark has a room made for both you and Aenys as (Y/N) lay in bed she starts to toss and turn and yell out for her brothers Aenys comes in to check on (Y/N) and sees her calling out for his uncle.

“Aenys don’t leave me alone please stay a little longer I can’t lose you please” (Y/N) cry’s out in her sleep.

Aenys holds (Y/N)’s hand and tries to calm her as Robb walks by and asks Aenys if he needs some help.

Aenys tells Robb to watch over you; he needs to get something that will help you. Aenys gets on Snow and flies away.

“Aemond please don’t do this Rhaenyra will forgive you and Aegon and Helaena please I’m begging you stop this!” (Y/N) cries out as she sits up with tears streaming down her face and grabs the hand that was in hers tightly.

“Thank you for watching over me Robb” (Y/N) says smiling at him while her eyes are shut.

“How did you know it was me?” Robb asks (Y/N).

“Aenys whispers to me in Valerian and you don’t know the language” (Y/N) says smiling at him.

“Do you mind me asking what you were dreaming about?” Robb asks (Y/N).

“I don’t mind at all, I was dreaming of my family I dreamt of all the happiness and sadness and the heartbreak I had to watch my family tear each other apart all for the Iron Throne I dreamt of Aemond Targaryen he killed Rhaenyra’s son Lucerys I had begged him not to go but he went anyway and war broke out soon after and sweet Helaena’s son paid the price a son for son she throw herself from a high tower not long after Aegon burnt Rhaenyra alive in front of her son Aegon the younger Daemon had killed Aemond and he fell to his death I had to watch over little Aegon and he married Jaehaera Aegon and Helaena’s daughter then I saw my family fall apart again because the only thing that can destroy the house of the dragon was itself and that’s what they did” (Y/N) tells Robb as tears fall down your face and he wipes them away softly.

“I’m sorry you had to see your home and family destroyed” Robb tells (Y/N).

“Where did my son go?” (Y/N) asks Robb.

“He just told me to watch over you and he flew away” Robb tells (Y/N).

“I dreamt of you once I saw you start a war to free your father then I saw you and your mother get murdered by a house that was loyal to your father” (Y/N) tells Robb.

“I would have gone to war if that prick of a King beheaded my father” Robb tells (Y/N).

“That’s what I like about you Robb you have love and honor and care for your family” (Y/N) says as she holds his hand tightly.

(Y/N) brings Robb’s hand up to her lips and kisses it softly as he looks in your eyes but soon lets go as Aenys makes his way into the room with a box in his hand and gives it to (Y/N).

“I’ve brought you something that will calm you” Aenys tells (Y/N) as he leaves you and Robb alone in your room and closes the door.

(Y/N) opens the box and pulls out a wooden dragon that Aegon had carved for her and (Y/N) looks closer and sees her father and mother’s crowns in the box and (Y/N) lets all the tears fall.

“What is that?” Robb asks (Y/N) as he sees her holding something.

“It’s a wooden dragon my father carved out for me along with his and my mothers crowns” (Y/N) says as she shows Robb the item in the box.

“Can I ask you something?” Robb asks (Y/N).

“What do you want to know?” (Y/N) asks him.

“What was your father like?” Robb asks (Y/N).

“He was ….” (Y/N) starts to say.

Taglist: @hc-geralt-23 @federalclassroom @cathy1514 @marytargaryen @stargaryenx

[fadingdaggerr]

home bound

part one | part two | part three | part four

pairing: brienne of tarth x gn!reader

summary: perhaps the era of searching for one another is over

warnings: s5-6 spoilers, got stuff, so much mutual pining, useless lesbian disorder

note: sorry for the late ass update, i’ve had a lot going on in my personal life, esp in the financial area. not thriving. anyways we’ve got one chapter left after this one!!

ps. posting this at work, i’ll proof better later :) (update: the layout got horribly fucked up after posting and paragraphs got deleted but i fixed it hopefully)

you’re quite beautiful…

these words played in brienne’s head every night. a vision of your eyes looking into hers, your hand laced with her own. her chest grows warms at just the memory of you, but soon the cracks grow larger. only a memory, and a fading one at that.

…perhaps handsome even.

brienne’s eyes shoot open, stone ceiling of castle black staring back at her. she sighs deeply, turning over and shoving her face into her pillow. how could someone miss another so much? she barely knew you, at least that’s what she told herself. in reality, she felt your souls had met millennia ago.

leaving her quarters, she finds her place beside lady sansa. she hears the boisterous laughter of the fellow free-folk, but quickly avoids them, not in the mood to deal with tormund’s ‘compliments.’ she would never admit she misses yours, at least not aloud. she further refuses to admit that if tormund’s words were said by you, they’d have worked long ago.

“you and podrick will go to riverrun, deliver this letter to brynden tully. he’s my uncle, i expect he’ll agree to my terms,” sansa speaks, breaking brienne’s thoughts.

“yes, my lady,” brienne states coolly, she hides her distraction well.

riverrun was fully surrounded by the king’s army, an army of tommen’s name was under cersei’s control, jaime leading it by her every word. her heart raced just knowing he was there, knowing they sat on opposite sides just as she always feared. she had considered him a friend at one point in time, but he was lost in a maze of his sister’s design.

in short, everything went to shit, at least in brienne’s books. the blackfish denied sansa’s request to aid them in taking back winterfell. the lannisters and freys laid siege to riverrun, jaime and brienne now on opposite ends of a coming war. the boat ride was silent.

after getting off the boat they escaped riverrun with, brienne and podrick both look to each other, hearing whistles from above. at first they both dismiss it, probably a bird. as they continued walking, the whistles grew longer, song-like, but they remained faint. brienne and podrick were sure there was no bird now, they stared at each other with twisted faces.

realization spreads across their faces, a wide grin forming on podrick’s lips, brienne’s eyes widening. the both look up into the trees, following the whistles. a branch drops from a pine tree in the distance, brienne’s feet immediately carry her to it. the branch had been hollowed towards one of the ends, a rolled sheet of parchment nestled inside. podrick mutters a little, how clever! to himself as her hands scrambled to free the correspondance.

brienne of tarth-

i hear twin lions are circling riverrun, do you often walk so freely into trouble all by your lonesome? please tell me you have the bloody horn. tell podrick to stop looking at the ground when he walks.

- no name of tarth

reading it aloud, brienne can feel herself smiling, she sees podrick is as well. she reads it over and over again, you’ve been insistent. she’s been too proud to use the horn, not wanting to look like she needs you, misses you, cares for you.

“two questions, my lady. first, do i really look at my feet that much when i walk? second, what horn?” podrick asks, head looking straight up to avoid his boots.

“yes, and a horn that was conveniently put in my stores without me knowing until i had already left the camp. that was four years ago, when i first met the skyforth with ser jaime,” she says his name bitterly, but podrick notes the small smile at the mention of the horn.

“you’ve had a horn to contact an entire hoard of fighters, and you’ve just… not used it? why not?”

she sighs, “i only agreed to answering two questions.”

podrick decides to aim low, “wait until lady sansa finds out you have… i don’t know… three, four hundred skilled fighters whose commander is your friend. and you’ve said nothing.”

brienne pushed him against the tree, sword against his throat, “are you suggesting i’m failing at my duties? that i have forsaken lady sansa?” her jaw is set, eyes boring into podrick’s, nostrils flaring with anger.

“no, no, no… just wondering why you hadn’t mentioned it. can you take that away now?” his eyes only left brienne’s to look at oathkeeper.

she drops her offensive state, “no more talking until the sun rises.”

—

the calm of the night had always been soothing. most nights you found yourself alone by the fire, staring into the flames or tracing constellations above. sometimes you’d glance to your right in hopes you’d gone crazy and could at least hallucinate to have her presence. only so much ale can be drank by one person. admittedly, you’ve also never lasted long enough to get to the ‘psychotic break’ level of drunk, usually tapping out after singing with the men.

singing with everyone once made you feel carefree, no one can really hear each other, just everyone together. the songs of loving women in far away lands sounded joyous, but after the third one you could only stare at the flames. songs that once brought you joy now made you bitter. she wasn’t far, she just wouldn’t reach too.

your stream of insecure thoughts came to a halt, hearing something. you scan around, realizing everyone had retired for the evening. you stood alone, only a few cups left around for companions. guess i’m going crazy now, you think to yourself with a huffed laugh.

but there is it again, a sound in the distance. a horn. your legs move before you brain takes in everything, and you’re sprinting like your life depends on it. immediately unwrapping the lead from the post, you mount your horse, and have her head northwest quickly. if you could hear the horn this clearly she had to be close, she reached out. gods you hope it’s her, or else you’re are potentially, royally screwed.

your horse continues her faster pace, you reach into the saddle pouch for your own horn. waiting til you get further away to call with your horn, you slow the mare to listen closer. the approaching of a horse behind you switches the horn from one hand to the other, dominant hand holding a dagger.

“commander!” a whisper yell calls out.

gods you almost threw the knife in anger, “larkin, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“i heard the horn too. you can’t seriously think i’m going to let you go into the forest, alone, at night. even if it’s lady brienne,” the boy was completely unfazed by your outburst, having grown used to it at this point. he’d known you all his life, your threats were about as scary as a rabbit to him.

“fuck, i can’t even be mad at you. next time don’t scare the shit out of me,” you nod to each other before continuing your journey.

“are you sure it’s her?” larkin asks after a few minutes, concern in his voice for the pending disappointment he’ll face if it’s not lady brienne.

you share the same feeling. there’s only a slim chance it is, but you have to try, hoping your silent prayers had worked. “not at all, but i hope so,” you say truthfully.

—

the fire soothed the chill that had crept into brienne and podrick’s bones. both sets of armor were taken off to allow the warmth to flood their bodies. podrick was poking the fire every few minutes, desperately trying to feel awkward in the silence.

brienne, however, had yet to take her eyes off the flames. her mind was doing arithmetic and backflips thinking about the horn. had it even worked, would she even know? how would you know it’s her? she wished she hadn’t used it, knowing that she had gotten her hopes up.

“my lady… my lady… my lady!” pod yells.

her head whips in his direction, “i said no talking until sunrise.”

“i know what you said, but there’s approaching horses in the distance. we need to smother this and go, it could be the lannisters or freys.”

she immediately rises and moves to grab her armor, podrick following. over the last couple of years they had fallen into a rhythm, all the armor put on quickly and campsite set to abandon. they moved to find a hiding place, hoping they could avoid any conflict, but their hands both sat on their swords. the horses’ steps got closer, indistinct voices now joining. she closed her eyes, gods she really did not need this right now.

the voices became clearer, a male voice spoke first, “are you gonna use that or are you just going to look at it like it just called you ugly?”

brienne sees podrick almost laugh, she hits him with her elbow. she hears an ow! don’t throw shit at me that brings her back to the moment.

a voice that was all too familiar spoke next. one that had been in dreams during slumber and during the waking hours, the very same that called her beautiful. she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, cruel tricks at that.

“we haven’t gotten anything in a while,” brienne’s heart is beating so fast she thinks she might pass out.

“maybe it’s not one of ours then?” the male voice responds. she hears one of you dismount your horse, then leaves moving around.

“buried the fire. they probably heard us coming, the wood’s still warm, they have to be clo-”

“PODRICK!” the male yells out.

brienne grasps pod’s arm to stop him, but he shoots up anyways, “LARKIN?!” he immediately starts running back towards the camp, brienne grumbles and follows.

“aye!” larkin exclaims, hopping off his horse to greet his friend. they were the same height now, larkin now a teenager who was quite capable with a sword. the boys shake arms, pulling each other in with pats on the back.

brienne catches up, and slides to a halt when she sees you. your serious expression drops, eyes now wide and focused on her. you start moving towards her, and out of the corner of your eye you see podrick hold larkin back from running to brienne.

“lady brienne,” she thinks your voice is like honey, rich and sweet.

“commander,” your heart is shaking just hearing her voice.

you clear your throat, “finally used that horn, i see. it’s only been what… four years?”

brienne ignores her shaking voice, “i was busy.”

you smile lightly, “i’m sure you were, my lady. dinner then travel to castle black when the sun rises?”

“i’m starting to wonder if you’re a witch.”

you laugh heartily, “i’m not foolish enough to meddle with the gods,” a deep breath escapes your lungs, “on the horse now, back to camp.”

larkin assists podrick onto his horse to make traveling easier. brienne hardly thought you’d propose the same for you and her. she watched you quickly get settled on the mare, petting her neck gently, before rounding over to brienne.

your arm reaches out to her, “my lady?”

brienne decided against speaking and just grabs your arm and hoists herself up onto the horse. she decides to grip the saddle instead of your waist, but to both your, and hers, displeasure. she thinks she would have if larkin and podrick weren’t riding beside you two.

—

brienne arrives at you tent after receiving a change of clothes and taking a warm-ish bath. she knocks on the post, and hears you mumble for her to enter. you’re facing away from her, arms holding you above the table so you could look at the map. she just watches you for a moment, taking you in fully now.

“are you going to speak or just stare?”

brienne clears her throat, “i’m sorry.” her words held more weight than an apology for staring, you knew this.

“why should you be? you were doing what you were set out to do. i apologize for my selfish behavior, expecting you to use the horn at all,” your disgust with yourself ran through heavily.

“turn around.”

you turn your head towards her, “what?”

“turn around,” you’re about to counter but she cuts you off, “all the way not just your face.”

you do, “happy?”

she looks around, double checking that no one will see her, you follow her gaze. she suddenly grabs your shoulders and pulls you closer. she squeezes you tightly, “very.”

you’re surprised by her actions, but it doesn’t show. your eyes close immediately as to let you relish in the moment. she moves to let go, doubt filling her head when you don’t reciprocate her embrace. the second her grip lessens, your arms go around her waist, squeezing just as tight, “i’m glad. me too.”

“so you’re coming with us to castle black?”

“if lady sansa wants more help taking back winterfell, i might just stay a while too,” you fight the smile that begs to grow on your face, the sparkle in her eyes not helping.

she pulls back with her hands on your shoulders looking at you sweetly. you fight back the giant smile that comes naturally upon looking in her eyes, she was so strong yet the most careful and gentle person you’d ever met. she made you feel like you were made of glass and wildflowers, and not the steel and rot that life had so graciously given you.

—

castle black, as ragnall put it, was ‘one hell of a fucker.’ the large gates and towers had the entire company’s head staring up, but yours stay straight ahead. your eyes focus on the entrance, desperately trying to ignore brienne’s hands resting gently on your hips. larkin was talking away next to you, having the attention of podrick, brienne, and a few others as he tells his story. a squeeze on your hip brings you to reality, your head shoot up and dart around.

“we’re here,” her voice is so close, warm breath caressing your ear. she dismounts the horse to talked to the guards at the gate, podrick following. you turn the horse around to speak to your men.

“start building the town, no stables, extra target set up. ragnall, dorin, larkin, you’re with me. full respect men, this is the night’s watch, and there’s free-folk as well. the proper lady of winterfell is here too, so best behavior,” your met with a collective groan, “thank you for your enthusiasm.”

you turn back around at brienne’s voice calling to you, trailing towards her with your companions behind you. she grabs the lead of your horse, despite knowing you’re fully capable of riding in by yourself. thankfully for them, you miss the three behind you sharing knowing looks between them.

“my woman, you’ve returned to me,” a boisterous voice says. brienne sighs heavily, podrick snickering next to you. you turn around to look at the source of the voice, seeing the most red-haired man you’d ever met. his? by the sound of her reaction, this was thankfully not the case.

“hello tormund,” she says without much personality.

“who’s your friend?” he nods your way, eyes scanning behind you, “and your friend’s friends?”

“her friend and these three are capable of hearing and speaking on their own,” you dismount your horse, and extend your arm, “commander of the skyforth, at your service.”

“so you’re the big shot in charge of 400 men? sure.”

“the one and only,” your eyes don’t leave his, boring into him so hard brienne thinks you might kill him.

just as tormund is about to speak again, brienne cuts in, “tormund, you’ll lose any game you try to play right now, trust me,” she turns to you, “how about we go meet with lady sansa?”

walking in to face lady sansa surprisingly had you nervous, but it didn’t show. you bowed to her, the men following your move. sansa is weary of you, and you show no signs of being upset by this. you carefully and truthfully speak about the history of skyforth, how you’d been supporters of the north for a long time. you left out tarth and your previous encounters with brienne, mostly for privacy but also with a fear of making a fool of yourself.

“and you trust the skyforth, brienne?”

“i do, my lady.”

“you’d fight beside them, beside their commander?”

“i would,” her voice is the most serious you’d ever heard her. her voice was stone, her confidence in you alone was enough make anyone cower. it was enough to make you feel fuzzy inside.

“and you? will you and your men really lay your lives down for the north?” sansa’s state could rip you in half if you answered wrong.

“it would be the most honorable death to die fighting for the north, for winterfell, for the stark name.”

sansa seems please with your answer, she dismisses everyone. brienne moves back to her side, while you turn to leave. your three companions follow, all three of us feeling the weight of the north’s eyes on you. the northmen are a loyal people, and you understand that you are outsiders brought by over outsiders, you ignore their looks. when you exit, you send dorin, larkin, and ragnall away, needing to think on your own.

the crunching of snow behind you alerts you that you’re not alone anymore. you wrap you dark cloak around yourself, you don’t have to look, you know it’s her. she stands next to you, looking across the horizon with you. she can sense that you’re not fully there, but she doesn’t say anything. she just stands next to you, soaking in your presence.

“you didn’t mention your super fan,” is all you say, continuing to stare at the trees ahead.

she chuckles, “at first i thought he was just trying to make fun of me, but now i think he’s just gone insane.”

“at least we know he’s not blind,” you mutter, “but still, already quite low on my list.”

she looks at you now, fighting the smile already on her lips, “and why would that be commander?”

you smile and shake your head, "i think we both know the answer to that question, my lady."

tag list: @lord6-6fandom @fishyikes @soulflame29 @machi-avelli @thoroughly--confused @the-bagel24 @one-pining-queer @naraly0808 @camilapc08 @senzafine6 @slightlymalicedme @another-unoriginal-username @eliscannotdance @jodie-in-a-box @yuilesbn

[hchollym]

Percy Weasley & Sansa Stark Parallels

This post is going to be more for me than anything else, because I doubt many people are interested in this very specific topic, but I couldn't resist.

Percy & Sansa are two of my favorite characters in literature, and the more I started to think about it, the more I realized how much they have in common. I know that sounds strange, and don't get me wrong, there are some key differences (Sansa was definitely more of an innocent victim - the poor girl was only 11 years old), but they do actually have a lot of similarities as well!

I'm going to link some posts/metas about Percy, just in case someone wants to see extra support for my claims, because I feel like Sansa is a little bit more obvious/self-explanatory in canon.

Basics

They are both tall redheads (which doesn't mean anything, but it is a fun coincidence). 🙂

They are both unfairly hated by fandom because of the POV trap (Harry & Arya).

Personality

They are both feminine (see this post about Percy).

They both love reading, and neither of them are very athletic.

They were both naïve and trusted the wrong people because they didn't know any better. Unfortunately, they were both raised by their fathers to trust in something that wasn't trustworthy (the Ministry of Magic - see this post about Percy - & the idea that most men/knights are honorable).

They are both romantic in nature (Percy writing love letters & Sansa reading love stories). Interestingly enough, both of them are the first siblings in their families to be given a storyline that involves a romantic relationship/betrothal & yet both of their oldest brothers end up getting married first (which is not a bad thing; it's just an observation).

Family/Background

They were both the "perfect" child who had high expectations placed on them from a young age ("Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please."), yet they were also ignored the most because they were "easy" compared to their siblings (see this post on Percy's relationship with his mother).

This is why their acts of "rebellion" (Percy disowning his family & Sansa going to Cersei) were so unexpected. They were always so well-behaved until they finally felt pushed over the edge:

“What do we want to be prefects for?” said George, looking revolted at the very idea. “It’d take all the fun out of life.”  Ginny giggled.  “You want to set a better example for your sister!” snapped Mrs. Weasley.  “Ginny’s got other brothers to set her an example, Mother,” said Percy loftily. 

suddenly changing to:

“He went completely berserk. He said — well, he said loads of terrible stuff... And he packed his bags the same night and left. He’s living here in London now.”

&

"It was for love," Sansa said in a rush. "Father wouldn't even give me leave to say farewell." She was the good girl, the obedient girl, but she had felt as wicked as Arya that morning, sneaking away from Septa Mordane, defying her lord father..."

They were both usually the odd one out with their siblings, who all had a closer bond with each other than with Percy/Sansa. Their siblings also looked down on their interests because they couldn't relate to them:

“We’re trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin — leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year —” “That’ll change the world, that report will,” said Ron. “Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks.” Percy went slightly pink.

&

Sansa would have sighed and shed a tear for true love, but Arya just thought it was stupid. 

They were also the target of their siblings' pranks/mischief:

“I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days.” “Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?” said Fred. “That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!” said Percy, going very red in the face. “It was nothing personal!” “It was,” Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from the table. “We sent it.”

&

"Arya started it," Sansa said quickly, anxious to have the first word. "She called me a liar and threw an orange at me and spoiled my dress, the ivory silk, the one Queen Cersei gave me when I was betrothed to Prince Joffrey."

They were both resented by their younger sibling(s), who each happen to be about 2 years younger than them (Fred and George & Arya):

"...we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —” “Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred.

&

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment.

Ironically enough, their parents usually let those siblings get away with a lot more than Percy or Sansa would have been allowed to get away with (see this post on Molly & Arthur's lack of discipline with the twins):

None of which stopped Arya, of course. One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. Sansa kept hoping he would tell Arya to behave herself and act like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, but he never did, he only hugged her and thanked her for the flowers. That just made her worse.

Circumstances/Storylines

Their fathers failed them (though not on purpose) when they needed them most (Arthur yelled at Percy and accused him of spying instead of calmly helping Percy see that he was being used & Ned refused to explain why Sansa's betrothal was being called off). This directly led to their acts of rebellion.

As a result, they were both taken advantage of by people in power (Fudge & Cersei) and separated from their family. Initially, this is what they both thought they wanted (Percy chose to leave & Sansa wanted to remain in King's Landing with Joffrey instead of returning home), but they both ended up regretting it (after losing their innocence and naivety) and wanting their family back.

They were both young, and yet they were judged for not knowing something that even the adults didn't know (Percy didn't notice that his boss, Barty Sr., who he barely knew, was under the Imperious Curse, while Dumbledore failed to notice that his old friend was actually a Death Eater using a Polyjuice potion & Sansa thought that she could trust Cersei while Ned believed that he could trust Cersei enough to warn her to leave town without her retaliating against him).

While they were separated/alone, their mothers were really the only ones doing anything to try and get them back (Molly visited Percy & Catelyn freed Jaime).

They both had to play their part in politics under a corrupt government. They both originally wanted to be a part of that system (eventually becoming the Minister of Magic & eventually becoming the queen). They ended up realizing that the people in charge were not as noble and well-intentioned as they thought.

They learned to be more careful about who they trusted, and they adapted to survive (Percy in a Ministry controlled by Voldemort & Sansa with the threat of Cersei, Jeffrey, and Littlefinger).

They both lost a brother. 😭

He and Ron had both grabbed Hermione and pulled her to the floor, but Percy lay across Fred’s body, shielding it from further harm.

&

Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. 

They both reconnected/made amends with the sibling(s) that initially resented them (Sansa and Arya will meet again and work things out in the books - fight me):

“I was a fool!” Percy roared, so loudly that Lupin nearly dropped his photograph. “I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a— a— ” “Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron.” said Fred. Percy swallowed. “Yes, I was!” “Well, you can’t say fairer that that,” said Fred, holding out his hand to Percy.

In Conclusion

I just found it interesting that two of my favorite characters - who seem very different - have so much in common. I'm sure that says something about me! 🤣😊

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt. 19

(Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader x Cersei Lannister TW: Pregnancy, physical abuse, attempted SA)

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

The following months could only be described as a gradual descent into madness.

You were over the moon, but constantly terrified of any risks to your baby.

You followed Grandmaester Pycelle's instruction to the letter, often seeing him more than you saw your own husband.

Sandor's duties only increased when Joffrey went from Prince to King.

He was gone all day and most nights. The time he did have free was spent sleeping.

After learning of his wife's treasons, Sandor tried to convince you to distance yourself from the queen.

Any risk of the truth being known was too much.

You tried to blame your distance on the pregnancy. swollen ankles and aching hips that made too much movement uncomfortable.

But Cersei was having none of it.

"I thought you said he was fine with this."

You winced when Cersei snapped at you.

"He is my queen. That isn't why I'm leaving."

"What is it then?" The Queen opened her arms and motioned around. "Are you no longer happy here?"

"It's not that at all, please," you begged.

Cersei was at the end of her rope.

It had been months since Joffrey took the throne, and the Baratheon forces were nearly pounding on the city doors.

Both Stannis and Renly were rallying men to fight for their respective causes, while Cersei was forced to sit back and watch as Tyrion took over the duties of Hand of the King.

"Explain it to me then!"

"I am trying." You snapped.

The last two months had been hell.

Your whole body ached. Your mind was half clouded, and you struggled most days to remember small things and keep a straight train of thought.

Your middle had begun to expand outward to accommodate the child in your womb, who had begun to move and kick.

"After everything I have done for you." Cersei sounded close to tears with anger. "All the privilege and the help I have given, and you want to abandon me when I need you the most!"

"I never wanted to hurt you, that is the last thing I would ever want to do" you tried to soothe her. "But I have my family to think of."

"The family I gave you!" Cersei roared, "You were a low-born servant, little more than a slave when we met. Robert wanted you dead! He wanted you whipped through the streets naked and hanged for treason! But I saved you. I did that!"

"Your Grace, please." You tried to remain the voice of reason. "This is doing neither of us any good."

The slap nearly knocked your soul out of your body. It was as if you could watch yourself take the blow in slow motion.

Your face burned and your eyes watered from the pain as you began to taste the coppery tang of blood in your mouth.

"Don't you dare presume to speak to me that way, you hateful little slut!" The queen hissed.

You recovered from the blow quick enough to see Cersei's hand fly again, striking the other side of your face this time.

The Queen's royal rings caught your temple, making you cry out this time in pain.

"Out!" Cersei commanded, "I want you out! I don't want to see your ungrateful face. Go let your precious hound mount you like the bitch you are!"

You found your way back to your chambers with tears in your eyes but stumbled back with a gasp when you struck someone's chest.

"I'm sorry." you whispered and tried to move aside but a gentle grip caught you.

"Lady Clegane?"

You knew that voice.

"Lady Sansa." you breathed, keeping your back turned. "I am very sorry, my lady. I wasn't watching where I was going, please forgive me."

The hand pulled you back until you were forced to face the teen.

"Did he do this to you?" Sansa breathed, taking in the damage slashed across your face.

The gash on your temple was still bleeding and your left eye had begun to blacken.

"He?"

"The Hound."

"Oh!" you gasped, "No! Forgive me my lady but my husband would never raise a hand to me."

"Who did this?" Sansa inquired, who would be so presumptuous to put their hands on the Queen Regent's favorite?

You did not answer right away but figured if anyone would or could understand, it would be her.

"I'm sure you've discovered that Lannisters....can be hard people to serve," you explained blandly, but Sansa caught your meaning.

"The queen did this to you?"

"Don't worry about me, little bird." you forced a smile across your face, "I have a funny way of always landing on my feet. It will be okay."

"I-" Sansa thought for a moment, "Why don't you accompany me to the docks to see off Princess Marcella?"

"Oh, My Lady," you winced sympathetically, "That would not be wise. You have it hard enough here as it is, I cannot allow you to interfere in my troubles."

"I will be queen one day." Sansa cut in, "One day rather soon. And I think it would be a good idea to establish myself in court. To make friends."

You smiled genuinely this time; this little girl was much braver than she looked.

"You know, when we left Winterfell, I promised your mother I would look out for you and your sister." You glanced down sheepishly, "I fear so far I have been something of a failure. But if you will allow, I would like to give it a second go."

Sansa looked relieved and nodded, "I would like that very much, Lady Clegane. So, you will escort me to the docks?"

"It would be my honor, my lady." You nodded.

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

"I'll kill her."

"Sandor, no."

"You're leaving." Sandor paced their chambers with long strides, an angry haze radiating off him like heat off steel. "Today, I don't care what Pycelle says. Pack only what you need, I'll send the rest."

"Darling." You grabbed him, "Darling, stop. I am fine."

"You are not fine." He reeled on you so quickly you stumbled back, "Look at you, I'm tired of this. I am tired of worrying every time she calls for you. This is not the first time, and it will not be the last."

"She's been under a lot of pressure, that is all" you insisted, "With Ser Jaime, and the Baratheons, and the princess being sent away tomorrow."

"Why are you making excused for her?"

"Because-" You trembled with frustration, "Because-"

"Because why?"

"I don't know!" You finally replied in what you didn't realize was a yell.

Sandor stared at you, a mix of frustration, anger, and even fear playing across his face.

"You need to leave now. Not tomorrow, not next month, now."

"I can't" you confessed, "I'm sorry I can't."

"What the fuck not?"

"Because" you breathed, "I swore to Catelyn Stark I would watch out for her daughters while they were in King's Landing. So far I have been a miserable failure but tomorrow I am escorting Lady Sansa to the docks and back to see off Princess Marcella."

"The fuck you are!"

"I am!"

The silence between you became thicker and thicker until Sandor broke.

"Fine." He sighed, "Fine fine fine. But I will be watching you every step of the way. One thing goes wrong and you're both going back to the castle, I don't care if I need to carry you."

"Fine" you nodded.

"But" Sandor growled, flicking open the clasps of a large, leather-strapped chest and fumbling through the contents. "You are taking this with you. I will hear no arguments on that."

He handled you the leather-wrapped handle of a 6-inch dagger. The honed edge shone in the sunlight and you swallowed hard.

"It's been a while." you confessed, "I don't know if I remember-"

"If you've used one before, you'll remember." Sandor assured you, "The body remembers."

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

The walk back to the Keep was silent between the royal family.

No one had been happy to watch Princess Marcella leave.

She was always a sweet girl, you thought, far too young to be shipped off for marriage.

As the procession made its way through the city streets, the hair on your neck pricked up.

They were being watched.

Not in the usual way the royals were gawked at, this gaze had malice behind it.

You looked back to your husband who looked over King Joffrey like a shadow. Slipping your arm into Lady Sansa's, you nudged her.

"Something is wrong," you whispered. "Can you feel it?"

"They're all watching us." Sansa nodded.

No one would ever know where exactly the first clod came from, but its pitcher had an incredible aim. It struck the king right in the temple and set off a maelstrom of chaos.

You grabbed Sansa's arm and pulled her close to your body protectively, the other arm wrapped around the growing mound of your stomach.

Sandor secured the king while the King's Guard and City Watch tried to contain the crowd.

Wild hands grasped for them, trying with all their might to drag any noble they could into the chaos.

The High Septon was one of the first to fall.

You heard the manic cries of the small folk turn to cheers as they tore the man limb from him, brandishing arms and legs like trophies and breaking apart his sacred crystal crown between them.

Your heart sank when the watch's men began to falter, and you snatched Sansa's hand tightly.

"Run." you choked.

"What?"

"Do not ask questions just run, run to the keep, and do not stop." you looked for Sandor but could not find him.

It was up to your .

Breaking into a sprint, you dragged Sansa along as the two of you made for the Red Keep. The teen huffed and panted but kept pace, running like her life depended on it.

Your steps were dogged by smallfolk baying for noble blood. Desperate for the flesh of those who lived so well while their children starved.

"Here." you jerked Sansa into an alley, "We need to lose them, keep going."

The detour threw your pursuers off for a moment, but not long enough.

Sooner than you hoped, they were back on your heels, and you cried out when you felt a hand grab a fist full of your hair.

"No!" Sansa screamed, turning only to be caught by two men who dragged her to the ground.

You were stunned at first, but when you felt a weight on your body you kicked as hard as you could.

Throwing your attacker off, you scrambled to your feet, pressing yourself against the brick wall as the attacker rounded on you.

He was a thin man with stringy blonde hair and pale blue eyes. For half a second, you thought you knew him.

But that didn't matter now, as he ran and pinned you against the wall. His hands wrapped around your throat and pressed firmly cutting off the air and making your eyes go wide.

He never said a word, only throttling you with all his strength as you tried weakly to push him off, flailing your limbs and trying to thrash out of his grip.

Your vision became soft around the edges as you fumbled, you knew what you needed.

Did you bring it?

You must have.

Where was it?

The man's grip went slack and you filled your lungs with a gasp that burned like liquor.

The man hobbled back, clutching at his chest as blood blossomed through his shirt.

Another slice cut through his side, then another sent the tip of the dagger through his eye before You turned to the two men who were holding down a thrashing Sansa who screamed louder than one might think possible.

Sansa gasped as the man that was forcing her knees apart stiffened and then fell onto her. Spurred forward by her escort's aggression, she fought even harder to turn on the man that pinned her arms and bit him fiercely as you lunged at him, dagger coated in his comrades' blood.

When the men were dead, you leaned against the wall, panting hard.

Your eyes struggled to focus but when they did, they landed on the man who attacked you.

Leaning closer, you rolled him on his back with your foot.

You did know him.

You struggled to remember.

It must have been so long ago.

"My Lady" you breathed to Sansa, who was wiping her eyes and recovering herself. "Those men, let me see their faces."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Sansa propped up both men with a look of disgust and you looked them over, hobbling forward to get a better look.

Gods

"We need to go."

"Do you know these men?"

You didn't answer. You attempted to put weight on your right leg and cried out in pain.

"We need to leave."

Sandor hadn't even realized that You and Sansa had disappeared and he hated himself for it.

Before anyone could command him to stay, He pushed through the crowd, slashing at those bold enough to try him, and looked over their heads, trying to catch a glance of his wife and her young friend.

Bulldozing his way through peasants, Sandor's breath caught when he caught sight of pink silk drenched in gore.

Sansa had you supported on her shoulder, leaning half on her and half against the wall.

Sandor wasn't sure how many people were killed to get to you, but he was sure he didn't care.

"You were supposed to go back to the keep!"

"Fuck off" was all you had the strength to say.

Sandor picked you up, trying to be careful of your swollen stomach as he sheltered Sansa under his arm and escorted you both into the keep.

When he put you down Sansa was on you in a heartbeat.

"You saved me." she wept. "You killed those men."

"I was in just as much trouble as you were, My Lady." you tried to laugh, wrapping her arms around Sansa "Couldn't very well let the rapers have their fun without a fight."

"Your Leg" Sansa remembered with a gasp.

You looked down and cringed at the sight.

You were fairly certain your ankle was not supposed to bend that way and with the adrenaline wearing off the pain began to radiate through your foot and up your leg.

"Take the little bird back to her cage." Sandor snarled at Sansa's handmaidens as he picked his wife back up. "Where the fuck are the maesters?"

You were not free to even breathe until the maester had conducted a full examination.

No damage had been done beyond some bruising around your throat and a badly broken ankle.

You nearly bit through the leather strap between your teeth when Osney Kettleblack reset the bone under Pycelle's watchful eye.

Whatever curses you might have been laying on the Kettleblack name were muffled by pain and cowhide

"Milk of the poppy twice a day for 3 months, and don't put your weight on it."

"3 months?" you scoffed, "Great, now I get to go west with a baby and a broken ankle."

"My Lady I'm afraid that after this I cannot condone traveling west." Pycelle shook his head in disapproval. "I fear you will have to finish out your term here in the keep."

You growled, wanting to swear but not wanting to disturb the dotty old Maester.

"Come on" Sandor grumbled, equally displeased. "Don't get used to being carried like this."

When the pair returned to the tower, you both had fallen silent.

You were exhausted, but you could not take your mind off those men. Those faces.

You called for a bath to be drawn so you could scrub off the filth of the city.

Sandor was brooding. More than usual. He was reluctant to be more than a few feet from you and hovered as you bathed.

"Sandor? You're thinking very loudly."

"I-" he growled, "I should have been there. I told you I would keep you both safe and-"

"Your job is to keep the King alive." You cut in, "And you did that. "

The silence was overwhelming.

"I killed those men." you swallowed, sinking deeper into the water. "I didn't even think about it, I moved and next thing I knew they were dead and I had killed them."

Sandor nodded, "You did what you had to do. Don't linger on it."

"I-" you swallowed hard, mouth going dry, "I think I might have known them."

"What?"

"I knew them," you repeated, clearer this time. "From before."

"How?"

"I don't know." you sniffed, "But I did, I knew their faces. And now I can't stop thinking about them. And I shouldn't because they would have killed us both, I know that. But-"

Sandor's hand found your shoulder, gripping it tightly.

"Don't" he urged, "Don't do that to yourself. You saved yourself and you saved that girl. Now you're going to rest, you going to heal and have our baby, and then you're going west, and you will be safe. That is all you need to be thinking about."

You looked back at your husband, eyes searching his face before nodding.

"I'll try."

[countrymusiclover]

Ch 33 - The North Remembers

Part 34

Fire OF A Stark

@dragonixfrye

Joanna flapped her large wings with me riding onto her back. My hair was completely loose except for a few strands clipped back with a golden hair clip that used to belong to Jaime’s mother. The wind blows through my hair soaring over the north grounds. Today Sansa and Jon were calling the Wildings Vale and the Northern houses. Since the North men didn't come to our call we wanted to know why. Looking down at the snowfall ground below I tugged her reins sending my dragon to land in the open courtyard seeing Jaime was waiting for me to come back. He had his arms tightly wrapped around himself trying to keep warm. Dismounting my dragon she sent him a low noise when I walked up. "Are you adjusting any better to this climate, Jaime?”

“I would like to say yes. But unfortunately no…the North still hates me.” He shivered, gripping his black fur cloak tightly around him. There was fallen snow sticking in his short cut blonde hair and his beard was growing thicker that I was still getting used to.

Resting my hands on his chest tugging him inside the horse stables so the wind wasn’t as harsh on him. Even though I had moved from the South so suddenly then we went back to the North. I was still used to the climate and how the weather worked. “Well I am sorry about that. I will say thought that I am grateful that you chose me and Rhaenyra over your sister. I know how much you loved her.”

“I did until I met you. Now I can’t see my life without you and our daughter.” He explained leaning down, kissing me softly. Moving my hands up onto his shoulders I leaned up on my toes until he bent down since I was shorter. “Sansa is watching Rhae before the lords arrive do maybe we should do something with our time alone together hmm."

I smirked knowing where he was going with this. Wrapping my arms around his neck I deepened the kiss we had moments ago. "Oh is that right, Lion."

“It is my little dragon.” He hummed tugging me closer to his chest kissing me passionately. His left hand moved up into my hair twisting my locks between his fingers, getting me to moan into the kiss. Wrapping my arms around his neck once more I leaned closer not hearing footsteps approaching.

“Cadence. Jaime, the lords are here. And I need to speak with my sister for a moment alone.” Jon’s voice caused us to break apart seeing him avoiding to meet our gaze and instead looking at his snow covered boots.

Breaking away from my husband I cleared my throat walking up to my brother. “Uh sure. We can talk Jon.”

“I’ll go check on Rhae.” Jaime nodded his head leaving towards one of the castle entrances leaving us alone to talk. Jon and I headed into one of the empty hallways of the castle.

Running my hands over my tunic I slumped my shoulders looking in my brother’s eyes that were black. Some of his hair was falling out of his bun. “So I got to thinking about what the lords might say about not fighting alongside us. And you mentioned to Sansa in one of your letters that you have the crown of a past dragon queen.”

“Yes I do. But I don’t understand what that has to do with this conversation Jon.” I point out shrugging my shoulders at my brother.

Jon gestures with his hands making his sword sway when he takes a step closer. “Years ago the realm loved the Targaryens. You are the last known living one. They will back you without question and we will need everyone when the army of the dead comes for us all.”

“I’m sorry did you just say army of the dead. Jon, what are you talking about and how do you think me telling who I am will accomplish anything?” I questioned thinking that he was starting to lose it. I didn’t know the things that he saw when he was at the wall but even I had limits to the things I would believe.

He gently grabbed my shoulders making me finally look him in the eye deeply. “I saw an entire army. The white walkers are real, Cadence. I know it sounds crazy but they are. And they don’t tire. They can only be killed in two ways. They will come for us now that the wall has been destroyed.”

“Jon…I…how does mean being a Targaryen help against something like that?” I shook my head still not understanding where his head was at.

He sighed heavily. “Because they loved the dragon family. If anyone can bring the houses together to fight an enemy together I have hope that it is you. Please Cadence. Please try for me.”

Nodding my head I sucked in a sharp breath leaving him to go into my chambers before we were supposed to meet with the lords. Slipping on some new clothes I shrugged my fur cloak on that had Lannister and Stark colors. Glancing over my shoulder I sighed slowly picking up the golden dragon crown and holding it in my hands. “I hope you're right about this Jon.” Sitting it gently on my head looking myself over in the mirror I had to admit that it looked rather good on my head like it was always supposed to be there,

Walking into the room with the large fireplace seeing Jon and Sans with the wildling leader all standing in front of the table. Jaime glanced in my direction parting his lips he was holding little Rhaenyra in his arms. Slowly walking forward I took our daughter from his arms feeling all eyes on me from the North men. “That’s the Lannister wife…how does she have a dragon grown….she has a child.” Each of them muttered under their breaths.

Sitting down with Jaime standing beside me he leans down whispering in my ear with a slight smirk in his tone. “The crown looks rather good on you, Lynesse.”

I sent him a smile before one of the Northern lords scoffed towards the wilding. “You can't expect Knights of the Vale to side with wildling invaders.”

The wildling leader scoffs back. “We didn't invade. We were invited.”

“The free folk, the northerners, and the Knights of the Vale fought bravely, fought together, and we won. My father used to say we find our true friends on the battlefield. The Boltons are defeated. The war is over.” Jon declared, trying to make them all understand.

But the lords of the North are too stubborn to give in. “Winter has come. If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms.”

“The war is not over. And I promise you, friend, the true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm.” Jon pleaded, hearing them all muttering under their breaths.

Suddenly there was a little girl named Lyanna that stood up for house Mormont. She could only be the age of teen or maybe Arya’s age from the looks of it. But she spoke with a fiery spirit reminding me a lot of myself. “Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly, but you refused the call. You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call. And you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton. Still you refused the call.” She turned to each of the lords and declared them unfaithful to the cause and vow that they had sworn. “But House Mormont remembers The North remembers. We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark. I don't care if he's a bastard. Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king from this day until his last day.”

“Lady Mormont speaks harshly and truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I didn't think we'd find another king in my lifetime. I didn't commit my men to your cause 'cause I didn't want more Manderlys dying for nothing. But I was wrong. Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding. He is the white wolf. The King in the North.” One of the lords who first spoke about the wilding admitted defeat.

“There's nothing to forgive, my lord. There will be more fights to come. “ Jon replied, seeing that Sansa was staring at him.

Another lord drew his sword in the air. “House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years. And I will stand behind Jon Snow... the King in the North!“

Lord Manderly looked in my direction where I knew he remembered what my brother Robb once said. “I did not fight beside you on the field and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness….” He paused drawing his sword from his hip pointing it directly at me. “Your brother Robb said that you would always be a Stark no matter what happens. Do you believe that there is a good reason we should fight alongside him and a Lannister?”

“Sansa, would you mind?” I asked handing her niece over to her so I could get to my feet and not worry about dropping her. Clearing my throat the crown felt much heavier than the moment I put it on my head. “I know that the North and South have never been allies in the past. But in my experience the Lannister’s and the Stark’s rather I should say Taragaryen’s can work together.”

“How do we know that you aren’t just lying because that is what the lion wanted you to say. If I remember right he used to be a prisoner in your brother’s camp-“ I cut the lord off.

“Until I set him free in order to try and protect my sisters. But that was in the past. The truth is now what matters in the future.” Clutching my hands into fists at my sides I sighed, shifting my gaze around the room at all the different lords. “The truth here is that I am half Stark and half Taragayrn. I am the daughter of Rhaegar Taragaryn and Elia Martell. So you can trust my word when I say that Jaime of House Lannister is loyal to me and in the name of our daughter Rhaenyra Lannister.”

Lady Mormont straightened her back sending me a proud smile while she spoke towards me. “I know what we should call you than , Lady Cadence. If we declare Jon Snow as the King in the North than we have no choice but to declare you the Dragon Queen of the North!”

“Thank you, Lady Mormont. Although I will reveal that my true born name is Lynesse Targaryen.” Shortly after I said that the entire room of lords drew their sword declaring the titles they had just given me and Jon. Jaime came to stand beside me intertwining his hand with mine, smiling down at me. Lifting my head up I had to admit that for once it felt good to not have such a weighted secret on my shoulders anymore.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[sanctificetur]

jonquil 🕊 dove is at the faerie revel of the unseelie court where she hears the gentry faerie sing, the attendees slow dancing on the brown timber floor - light purple dress swishing around elegantly.

dance 💃 the night away ;; lucy’s in the sky…

the faerie was called nicasia, and he is singing by a backdrop of trees with pink red sansa roses and yellow gold frangipani flowers on the branches waving in the wind. a 🕊 was flying through the branches.

he is wearing a high collared black suit with golden accent ( golden dragon claws ) reflected below, his eyes reminiscing a bit lonely in memory as he sings. he sees jonquil, remembering a shy girl who saw him from a distance, and hopes she is okay. his hair was, presently, black and grown a little past his ears. there were gold ribbons and white mother-of-pearl looped around branches, decorated for this event.

jonquil is a mapmaker who travelled through the fold ( with florian and her regiment ) to the revel to the land of faerie. the grisha, like the inferni, helped with keeping the volcra — creatures of darkness — from attacking them. and she has her power of the sun too, she wearing an eyepatch from when the darkling set the nichevo’vya darkness onto her.

she has worked through the maps as best she could, knowing she is the only one to, of reality and fantasy, general and complex, poring thoroughly over it on the oak and mahogany table comprised from noah’s ark.

‘ you’re working to the bone, jonquil darling,‘ florian said, coming in, and holding her shaking hand lain on the yellowing parchment 📜 of the map — the world globe also being lines of signal-fire, she seeing him and understanding, ( the moment between them turning grey and white with a butterfly fluttering in between ), wrapping up what she was doing in her own style. and is continuing with telling her story in the moment ;; she also knowing and understanding she did and is doing well in storytelling. they were both alive and well, as indicated by the letter writing they were doing ( and specific tagging/contents system as well as random paging right there to love and communicate to help one’s heart flourish ), and he sending her romantic notes ;; as he was not a faraway lover 🗒.

jonquil is wearing a vibrant red plaid skirt ; reminiscent of the leaves of the godswood ( where she and florian went to ;; a calm place of nature where they talked in peace : she simply just staying with her presence every day ). she is also wearing a white delicate papery blouse ( texturing like grains of sand ) with a red ribbon belt, and a black wool beanie on her black hair with light pink streaks.

she sees kieran and cardan talking, they looking at a brown moth fluttering over a brown coffee cup, as she walks through the revel ground.

she walks over to the pyre, touching the light brown and dark black texture of the logs 🪵 ;; the bright blue white light flickering and emanating within intact — the soothing presence reminding her when she touched the bark of the heart 💕 tree in the godswood.

‘ it’s beautiful, isn’t it? ‘ nicasia says, walking over to her.

jonquil hears his voice, as she is touching the pyre. she nods, and says about the yellow yacht rand tied to the pyre,

‘ they remind me of lemon 🍋 peels which I use to cook in little lemon cheesecakes ; tangy with buttery sweetness. ‘

‘ I like lemoncakes too ;; sweet desserts 🧁 are delicious. yet I like chocolate more, as too much lemon is rather tangy, ‘ nicasia says.

[jackoshadows]

You mentioned wanting to debate rather than writing vague posts, so let's do this. I think what's frustrating for many of us is that some of us - for ex. @kumralada and @no-idea-for-a-cool-name have already explained in detail and at a certain point these discussions are repetitive and go round and round in circles. If you don't provide the text to back up your feelings and opinions, then those are just headcanons. And then the question is, why does a person have those headcanons which go against what is in the text?

First, I think the others have explained why they think Arya could also govern the North in their replies to your post. I have explained why Arya will be a leader of the North here. Any rebuttals you have to what I have written there is most welcome.

So let's start. First, what do we mean by 'Politics'. According to the Oxford dictionary, this is what is meant by the word 'Politics' and as used by me.

The activities associated with the governance of a country or area, especially the debate between parties having power.

Activities aimed at improving someone's status or increasing power within an organization.

Now, you have stressed that Sansa has been around politics and therefore it is certain that she will govern the North.

Sansa’s been around many of the biggest political players in the story, and has learnt plenty in that time. but she’s been exposed to political power play for many books now

Can you give me the text/paragraphs from the book which shows her learning from the biggest political players in the story? Not just vibes and feelings but actual text from the books, because we have to interpret the story and characterization from the books.

A couple of months back I was listening to the King's Landing chapters in ACoK and the Tyrion and Sansa chapters are a stark contrast between a political player and a political hostage. Sansa I, ACoK is her trying to appease 13 year idiotic sadist Joffrey with the Hound's help. Tyrion appears, introduces himself and asks where Cersei is. He then leaves to find Cersei, who is in a council with the likes of Littlefinger, Varys and Janos Slynt. There's discussion of administration and power plays between different houses, what Tywin is doing, what he intends.

Tyrion's chapters then proceed to involve the lack of food, taxes, refugees streaming into the city, diplomacy, negotiation and so on. There is one Tyrion chapter where Sansa along with other lords and ladies watch Tyrion's meeting with Cleos Frey for a barter with House Stark. Other than that, as a political prisoner, Sansa is never around the characters dealing with the actual politics of ruling.

This is further emphasized in how she never realized that the Tyrells were using her, that Dontos was a plant meant to get information out of her and Sansa not even being able to understand the soft politics of Margaery using food to win the love of the starving small folk in KL in book 3!!

In contrast, in ACoK, we have Arya in Harrenhal who listens, who watches, who learns and then puts into use what she learns.

And as lords and ladies never notice the little grey mice under their feet, Arya heard all sorts of secrets just by keeping her ears open as she went about her duties. Pretty Pia from the buttery was a slut who was working her way through every knight in the castle. The wife of the gaoler was with child, but the real father was either Ser Alyn Stackspear or a singer called Whitesmile Wat. Lord Lefford made mock of ghosts at table, but always kept a candle burning by his bed. Ser Dunaver’s squire Jodge could not hold his water when he slept. The cooks despised Ser Harys Swyft and spit in all his food. Once she even overheard Maester Tothmure’s serving girl confiding to her brother about some message that said Joffrey was a bastard and not the rightful king at all. “Lord Tywin told him to burn the letter and never speak such filth again,” the girl whispered. - Arya, ACoK

King Robert’s brothers Stannis and Renly had joined the fighting, she heard. “And both of them kings now,” Weese said. “Realm’s got more kings than a castle’s got rats.” Even Lannister men questioned how long Joffrey would hold the Iron throne. “The lad’s got no army but them gold cloaks, and he’s ruled by a eunuch, a dwarf, and a woman,” she heard a lordling mutter in his cups. “What good will the like of them be if it comes to battle?” There was always talk of Beric Dondarrion. A fat archer once said that the Bloody Mummers had slain him, but the others only laughed. “Lorch killed the man at Rushing Falls, and the Mountain’s slain him twice. Got me a silver stag says he don’t stay dead this time neither.”

Arya uses the information she gets from here and there and helps capture Harrenhal for team Stark. She is then exposed to the consequences of what that means - in war there are no winners. As cupbearer, Arya is also in attendance at Roose's council of war, listening in as Roose and his men plot and plan.

The lord’s bedchamber was crowded when she entered. Qyburn was in attendance, and dour Walton in his mail shirt and greaves, plus a dozen Freys, all brothers, half brothers, and cousins. Roose Bolton lay abed, naked. Leeches clung to the inside of his arms and legs and dotted his pallid chest, long translucent things that turned a glistening pink as they fed. Bolton paid them no more mind than he did Arya.…Roose Bolton’s voice was so soft that men had to strain to hear it, so his chambers were always strangely hushed. - Arya, ACoK

Listening in and figuring out what was happening, Arya decides to leave Harrenhal as soon as possible, strategizes a plan and carries it out.

Now yes, Arya had more freedom to move around than Sansa who is a political hostage. But then why is Sansa's stay in KL seen as some kind of political learning arc? You cannot have it both ways. Either Sansa is a helpless political prisoner in KL with no agency or she is an active player learning politics from the likes of Tyrion and Olenna and Varys. Both cannot be true.

And yes, Sansa too is able to secretly meet Dontos - credit where it is due. Not taking away from Sansa's achievements, but Arya has been doing that since her penultimate AGoT chapter! Sneaking around KL while the Goldcloaks and Cersei's men were actively trying to capture her. Sneaking around in enemy territory for some 3 books.

A leader should be able to look at all the information before and make quick decisions. Something Arya has been doing right from AGoT. And as we see in ACoK with her Harrenhal arc she is rather fast and strategic in making decisions.

I mean we are not just being 'Sansa haters' by pointing these things out. It's just that we are not getting the same story structure, narrative themes and characterization out of the text that you are getting.

For example, you said Sansa has learned from the biggest political players. Can you point in the text to something Sansa learned from a strong political player like Tyrion that she then implemented?

Like we see Jon's learning arc - learning from Jeor Mormont, Maester Aemon, Mance Rayder and even Bowen Marsh - and then implementing what they taught him as LC. Where is the equivalent of this for Sansa?

Take Arya, Margaery and Sansa for example. Arya is able to effortlessly do what Margaery does and win the love of the smallfolk, which, as Cersei later realizes is indeed important. Meanwhile Sansa is unable to get her mind around why a poor, starving person would appreciate someone giving them food.

Arya shrugged. “I didn’t go far. Anyway, Nymeria was with me the whole time. I don’t always go off, either. Sometimes it’s fun just to ride along with the wagons and talk to people.” Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher’s boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers. - Sansa I, AGoT

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. - Arya II, AGoT

The same smallfolk who pulled me from my horse and would have killed me, if not for the Hound. Sansa had done nothing to make the commons hate her, no more than Margaery Tyrell had done to win their love - Sansa I, ASoS

Wherever she went, the smallfolk fawned on her, and Lady Margaery did all she could to fan their ardor. She was forever giving alms to beggars, buying hot pies off bakers’ carts, and reining up to speak to common tradesmen. -Cersei VI, AFfC Thrice that day she heard the sound of distant shouting drifting up from the plaza, but it was Margaery’s name that the mob was calling, not hers. - Cersei X , AFfC

Look at the set up, the gradual and organic building up of a narrative, a theme, a story. It starts with Sansa pointing out Arya's ability to build a relationship with the smallfolk, to later Sansa pointing out Margaery's similar dynamic with the smallfolk to later us seeing the results with Cersei finding out that the support of the smallfolk was for Margaery, not her.

And throughout all this, while Sansa narrates Arya and Margaery's having that relationship with the smallfolk, she herself is unable to understand and grasp the politics of what is happening. Being able to build a relationship with the smallfolk by crossing over barriers of class is what is actually soft power politics. Both Arya and Margaery engage in it, while Sansa is unable to understand this - even in Book 3!

And she is still unable to grasp the importance of food as a political tool in the sample chapter we get in TWoW! She narrates for the reader LF's price gouging scheme which hoards food from the starving masses and yet has no opinions or thoughts on this while hosting a 64 dish sumptuous feast.

And since we are talking about leadership of the North, the complete absence in Sansa's POV of the consequence of Winter having come stands in stark contrast to the the rest of the Starks actually dealing with this. From Arya's travails through war torn riverlands dealing with the scarcity of food, to Bran discussing the harvest to Jon dealing with food shortage.

Aye, but now you’re almost six-and-ten, and we must pray you will know how to charm your new husband. “My lady, how do things stand at Karhold with your food stores?” “Not well.” Alys sighed. “My father took so many of our men south with him that only the women and young boys were left to bring the harvest in. Them, and the men too old or crippled to go off to war. Crops withered in the fields or were pounded into the mud by autumn rains. And now the snows are come. This winter will be hard. Few of the old people will survive it, and many children will perish as well.” It was a tale that any northmen knew well. “My father’s grandmother was a Flint of the mountains, on his mother’s side,” Jon told her. “The First Flints, they call themselves. They say the other Flints are the blood of younger sons, who had to leave the mountains to find food and land and wives. It has always been a harsh life up there. When the snows fall and food grows scarce, their young must travel to the winter town or take service at one castle or the other. The old men gather up what strength remains in them and announce that they are going hunting. Some are found come spring. More are never seen again.” “It is much the same at Karhold.” That did not surprise him. “When your stores begin to dwindle, my lady, remember us. Send your old men to the Wall, let them say our words. Here at least they will not die alone in the snow, with only memories to warm them. Send us boys as well, if you have boys to spare.” - Jon, ADwD

Sixty-four dishes were served, in honor of the sixty-four competitors who had come so far to contest for silver wings before their lord. From the rivers and the lakes came pike and trout and salmon, from the seas crabs and cod and herring. Ducks there were, and capons, peacocks in their plumage and swans in almond milk. Suckling pigs were served up crackling with apples in their mouths, and three huge aurochs were roasted whole above firepits in the castle yard, since they were too big to get through the kitchen doors. Loaves of hot bread filled the trestle tables in Lord Nestor’s hall, and massive wheels of cheese were brought up from the vaults. The butter was fresh-churned, and there were leeks and carrots, roasted onions, beets, turnips, parsnips. - Alayne, TWoW

From Jon Snow dealing with the shortage of much needed vitamin C and scurvy to Sansa enjoying a lemon cake made from lemons collected from all over Westeros, they are a study in contrasts about scarcity and excess.

The Lord Steward paid him no mind. “There will be sickness too,” he went on, “bleeding gums and loose teeth. Maester Aemon used to say that lime juice and fresh meat would remedy that, but our limes were gone a year ago and we do not have enough fodder to keep herds afoot for fresh meat. We should butcher all but a few breeding pairs. It’s past time. - Jon, ADwD And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar. For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out. Sweetrobin loved lemon cakes too, but only after she told him that they were her favorites. The cake had required every lemon in the Vale, but Petyr had promised that he would send to Dorne for more - Alayne, TWoW

And it's not just learning politics, there should also be personal growth as a leader in a story that's about change, about seeing the bigger picture, in a story where most of the main protagonists are underdogs - from bastards to the disabled. And there again, Sansa is static as a character.

Sansa liked Margaery better as a sister because she's more beautiful, thinks Mya Stone would be pretty if she dressed like a girl, thinks Mya is only deserving of Lothor Brune because she's a bastard and despite playing a pretend bastard never thinks on why the institution of bastardy is unfair. She has no patience for little disabled SweetRobin, pushing the Maester to dose him with harmful levels of SweetSleep because Littlefinger thinks that's the way to go.

Sansa is a very pro-status quo character. She never thinks of women's rights or how restricted women are in what they are allowed to do. Cersei for example is an interesting character in terms of her relationship with the patriarchy, in the way way she resents how restricted women are and has internalized that into a hatred towards her own sex. Sansa, however, never goes there despite being one of the biggest victims of how the patriarchy works in Westeros.

And for those of us who want for characters like Jon, Bran, Tyrion, Arya, Dany, Asha, Brienne etc. to be respected as bastards, the disabled and as female leaders, there should be change in Westeros!!

Arya cannot bring about an equal status for Stark women unless she is in a position of power. Which is why her becoming a leader would nicely bookend her arc of wanting the women to be important too - a theme that is peppered throughout her journey.

Sansa started way behind even her younger siblings, with Arya cottoning onto the likes of Joffrey and Cersei, while it took Ned losing his head for Sansa to understand the same. And she has still not caught up with what her peers have done or are doing. Which is why it's frustrating when Sansa's younger siblings are sidelined when it comes to leadership in favor of a character who has been a political pawn and hostage for the vast majority of her story.

An actual learning politics arc is what we get in Bran's ACoK chapters in Winterfell - we see the actual politics of the North. We see Maester Luwin and the likes of Rodrik Cassel teach Bran the intricacies of Northern politics. This is the difference between having a political arc and simply being a political hostage.

We see glimpses of Northern politics in Jon, Bran and Arya's POV. From Arya's POV we learn of Northern justice and the nitty gritty details of Ned's connection with the people of Winterfell and why he was so beloved by the clans and houses now marching to save her from Ramsay Bolton. From Jon Snow's POV we learn of how Ned held the peace and dealt with the different houses, clans and Northern justice. From Bran's POV we learn the intricacies of Northern politics - the marriages, who becomes heir, barter systems, settling disputes.

Hopefully you can understand why it's frustrating when the Northern political/leadership arcs crafted and written over several books for Bran, Jon and Arya are constantly swept aside, considered unimportant or ignored in favor of a character who lacks that buildup and simply because her fans want that ending for her and the character fits into a fanon aesthetic for leadership.

I feel like Sansa being in King's Landing is what gives these vibes for her fans that she has a political arc, because King's Landing is where a lot of politics and playing the game happens. However, it's important to keep in mind that Sansa herself is not involved in these political machinations and simply being in a place does not mean she's going to absorb all that through osmosis. This is all very superficial and dig a little deeper and Sansa has really not engaged in the politics of ruling.

And Sansa's interested in rule - naïvely so at the start of the story, but she's learning the nuances of power and renewing her affection for her Northern roots. There's room in her story for her to mature into someone who understands more than just the dynamics of court and your allies vs your enemies,

Sansa is so far behind her siblings in learning all this that, again, it's frustrating when they are pushed aside to make way for the latecomer to the gang. Arya learned the nuances of power when Mycah was killed and no one cared. Jon learned the nuances of power when he realized his privilege over his peers at the NW. Bran learns of the nuances of power from Maester Luwin overseeing the administration of the North.

Yes, there's room in the next two books for her to grow - I most definitely think Sansa will in some way be responsible for Baelish's downfall. She has to be, considering how closely intertwined these two characters are since the first book. For this to happen, she has to start connecting the dots of all the information she already has and which she has not started doing. She needs to stop blindly following LF and start questioning his decisions. See the bigger picture.

And until we actually read that character growth in the books, read that in the actual text, like we do with Jon, Bran and Arya, this idea of Sansa as a leader of the rugged North is just surprising, no, unfathomable to many of us. Her siblings are way ahead of her in terms of having got the character development a leader needs.

It almost feels like you think she will be ruler of the North because you want her to be and based on your speculations of what her future story will be. Meanwhile some of us are arguing that Arya will govern the North in the future based on what has already been written in the books.

This has been a long post, but I felt it was needed to just lay out my reasoning.

If the kingdoms at the end go all independent. Who ends up king in the north? I assume Sansa is queen in the vale with Harold hardying but is bran really ok for king in the north? Will it go to Rickon?

talked about this a little before but basically I don't really see the seven kingdoms each becoming independent: I think whatever becomes of the Targaryen legacy, Aegon's ice & fire dream (or whatever it was called lol) was clear that there was strength in unity and I think that echoes throughout asoiaf generally.

I think it's likely Sansa will govern the North (I agree that her arc in preparing her for that role is incomplete, but at least she has that arc where compared to Rickon). Arya's a charismatic character and a strong leader besides, you could certainly say she'd be as good at governing as Sansa. but I just don't really feel like a governing role resonates in her story regardless, so that does leave Sansa (who I personally really doubt will just marry Harold Hardyng and settle down in the Vale for all of time)

and I fully buy into the Bran as a fisher king theory - I don't think he'll govern exactly but will become a figurehead of westeros, uniting the people and the land. doubt he'll be based in King's Landing as that's likely to be a pile of ash and in any case was always very much part of the political plot, divorced from the supernatural and the struggles of the rest of Westeros. you constantly get a sense of KL as a corrupted seat where the monarchs and their court are entirely removed from the smallfolk on their very doorstep, so I don't see it having a place in Bran's reign, whatever that ends up looking like

[snowmcid]

💌

Meme || Accepting || @flame-of-ostwick

Send “💌” for a love letter from Sansa

Inquisitor, 

They say you are kissed by fire, that a great inferno resides in your heart, but I have found that the flames they speak of as burning, are no more than temperate in their nature. I find no scalding rage in your words - nor your actions, but instead - a gentle heat that warms even the coldest of hearts. 

                You are light,

                                         You are warmth,

                                                        and  it is a fire you have fanned in my own heart. 

    Ever yours,

              An Admirer

[lovebaela]

Ice & Fire ༄ Pt. 2

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bran Stark x Targaryen oc fanfic

Chapter 2 ⋇ The Tower ⋇

Tsireya’s POV

It was time to feast. Jon and I usually sat with the Starks, but not today. Lord Stark wanted me to be safe when Lady Stark thought it would be dishonorable for Jon to sit with them before a King. We sat at the side on a bench with the younger squires. Jon poured himself some summer wine and drank. “Did you want some?” He asked, noticing my curiosity.

“Sure,” I reply. He gave me his cup to take a sip. When I took a sip I stuck my tongue out in disgust. “I don’t like it!” I spat.

Jon chuckled, “Maybe you’ll like it better when you’re older.”

We all watched as the Stark family entered the 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.

Arya waves at me to watch her. What is she up to? She places a piece of her pigeon pie on her fork and flicks it at Sansa. “Arya!” Sansa cried. “She always does this!” Everyone in the hall laughed as Robb picked up Arya to take her to bed, from the order of their mother of course.

Music began to play and a few people got out of their seats to dance.

Bran’s POV

Everyone started to ask each other to dance. I glance over at Tsireya, I wish she could have sat with us, Jon too. Robb places his hand on my shoulder and whispers to me.

“Bran, you should ask her for a dance,” he said grinning. “I noticed you were staring at her.” My cheeks began to get warm.

“I-I wasn’t staring at her!” I try to argue.

“It’s okay to admit you like her brother,” He said. “Everyone knows that you do.”

“No I don’t!” I cry. I hate it when he, Theon, and Jon teased at me about Tsireya. I look down, “We are just friends. That’s all we will ever be!”

Robb noticed me looking down at feet and then chuckled, “…whatever you say Bran. You should still ask her for a dance. She would be very happy.” I look back at her as Robb leaves to ask a girl for a dance. He’s so lucky. Every girl wants him. The perfect, handsome son of Ned Stark. I take a deep breath and get up from my chair.

Tsireya’s POV

As I am petting Ghost, Jon’s direwolf pup, Bran walks up to me and reaches his hand out to me.

“gaomagon jaelā naejot lilagon?” Bran asked me quietly.

I look at Jon. He reassured me, “I’ll be fine! Ghost will keep me company.”

I look up at Bran and take his hand, “kessa.” I answer.

Bran’s hand gently caressed my hand as he held it with his as we walked to the dance floor. “Gaoman daor gīmigon skorkydoso naejot lilagon (I don’t know how to dance),” I confess. At least not the Northern Westeroi way. “It’s okay,” Bran replied. “I still don’t completely know how either.” We look at how everyone else danced and followed their lead.

Before going to bed, Bran, Arya, and I wanted to hear a story from Old Nan. We liked hearing one before sleeping. She still needed to finish the dance of dragons. I liked learning about my family history.

“Where did I leave off?” Old Nan asked.

“The part where Jacaerys Valeryon went to Winterfell!” Arya answered.

“Ah yes,” she remembered. “Queen Rhaenyra needed more allies on her side so her son Jacaerys volunteered to go to Winterfell, where he met Lord Cregan Stark. He gave him a warm welcome and they quickly grew to be like brothers swearing an oath by blood-.”

“The pact of Ice & Fire.” A voice said. We all look at the door to see Lord Stark. “A pact through marriage, Jacaerys’ first-born daughter was to be sent to Winterfell to be fostered and marry the heir of Cregan Stark.”

“But then he died during the war,” Bran stated.

“That he did,” Lord Stark said. “Since then, we still never fulfilled that pact.”

“Do you think that would ever happen?” I asked him.

“I do not know,” he answered. “Now, you all should go to bed.”

We all go back to our bedchambers saying goodnight.

Before reaching my room, Maester Luwin gave me a letter. It must be from Daenerys! I thanked him and went in my room to read it. Maester Luwin and Lord Stark were the only people who knew about the letters.

Dear Tsireya, I hope you are doing well my cousin. I’m afraid I have some news. I am getting married off in trade for a Dothraki army. I’m about to meet my future husband in a bit. I don’t want to marry him, or anyone. I just want to go home. To finally see you! Sometimes when I get scared…I say that I am the blood of the dragon. Dragon’s are fearless and brave which is what I should be. You are the only person in this world that brings me happiness. Love, Daenerys.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

In the morning, it was time for stitching. I was getting better at it, but Arya’s was still crooked. Princess Mrycella also joined us. The whole time Sansa was whispering with her friends, Jeyne and Beth.

“What are you all whispering about?” Arya asked suddenly. They all continue to giggle and Sansa whispers, “the Prince.”

“He told her she was beautiful.” The two girls said. “They are going to get married you’ll see!”

“Oh him,” Arya says. “Jon said he looks like a girl.”

“He’s just jealous because he’s a bastard.” Sansa said. Arya and I gasp.

“He’s our brother!” Arya said standing up.

“Half-brother,” Sansa corrected her.

“Ugh I hate you,” Arya hissed, she took my hand. “Let’s go see what Bran is doing.”

We go outside and see the boys drilling. Bran was heavily padded with a wooden sword, Prince Tommen as well. There were tons of specters watching. We walk up to Bran.

“Hey Bran!” We tell him. “Did we miss the fight?”

“No, it’s about to start!” He responds.

We wish him good luck and go back in the crowd standing next to Robb. The boys are watched closely by Ser Rodrick in case something bad would happen. The boys start to circle each other and then began to swing. Everyone encourages them, Robb was definitely the loudest. Bran was winning by a long shot.

“Do you think I could by as good as Bran?” Arya asks me.

“Totally! Takes a lot of practice, but it’s all worth it in the end.”

We both jump at the loud cheering of the crowd. We look and see Tommen roll on the ground, struggling to get up. Bran stood over him with his sword in the air. The fight is over! Arya and I run up to Bran.

“You did so good!” I said hugging him.

“Thank you.” Bran replied, looking flustered.

I look over at Tommen and say, “And you my Prince did well.” I help him up.

“T-Thank you.” Tommen replied, his face was completely red.

I notice the King giving us the side eye and quickly let go of his hand. Now, it was time for Joffrey and Robb to fight.

After the fight, the King wanted to go on a hunt with Lord Stark. They mount their horses and head out. Bran and I wave them goodbye.

“One day, that’s going to be me,” Bran said. “A brave, strong knight!”

“I’m sure you will be,” I respond.

“Father is hand of the king now,” he told me. “We will live in the red castle in King’s Landing.”

“I’m kind of scared,” I confess. “I don’t know if it’s safe for me.”

“Rytsa, kesi mīsagon ao (hey, we will protect you),” Bran tells me. “I promise.”

I smile at him, “Kirimvose (thank you).”

Summer sneaks up from behind us and bites at Bran’s shoes. He looks at me and smirks, “do you wanna go climbing?”

“Bran, we shouldn’t your mother-.”

“She isn’t around come on let’s go!”

“Well, okay.”

Bran looks down at Summer, “come on you!”

We both run off.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

We find an abandoned tower. “Hey let’s climb this!” Bran says.

“I don’t know Bran…I think I’ll just watch from down here with Summer.”

“Okay, I’ll go all the way to the top!”

Summer and I watch as Bran climbs higher and higher up. I start to get nervous, “Be careful!”

Just before Bran gets to a window, he pauses making a confused face. Then I see him look through the window and tilt his head like a curious pup.

“Bran what do you see-.”

Bran gets yanked by a hand.

“Bran!”

I can’t hear anything they are saying! Just in case, I get ready to catch him. I began to calm down once I see the hand let go of him. But to my horror, Bran gets pushed. I freak out, “No!” Not knowing what else to do I open my arms to catch him. I catch him but it was a rough fall. We both black out.

[megsironthrone]

What's in a Name?

Based on this request: Hi! Hope ure good! I love your writing and i’m so happy you’ve opened requests! Can i ask that you write one with Jon and Reader. R is Roose Bolton’s legitimate daughter. After battle of the bastards Jon finds her locked up in her quarters. she offers him help & thinking Rs just a prisoner he accepts. he starts to fall for R & when he finds out who is she he’s conflicted. Mybe Sansa tells him Ramsay locked her up for being kind to her? R is upset at Jon for being distant & when he tells her she’s kinda like i thought you wouldn’t judge someone for there name? Can it be a fluffy ending? Thank u if u do write it.

Here you are, lovely! My apologies for the wait! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!*

Warnings: A little angst, a little fluff, mentions of battle POV change

Pairings/Characters: Jon Snow x fem!Bolton reader, mentions of Sansa

Battles were never quiet and this one seemed louder than any other. Probably because it was right outside your window. You sat in your chambers, hoping and praying that Ramsay would be defeated in battle for the last time. You knew that the only reason he had locked you up instead of executing you was because you had no right to your father's lands as long as Ramsay was alive. Not after your father had legitimized Ramsay. But now, Ramsay was facing his greatest foe yet and you hoped that threat would win and release you from your prison.

You listened to the battle with your heart nearly beating out of your chest. Then, silence. Pure silence. Like a fog coating the dark. You had never heard Winterfell so quiet before. But just as quickly as it got quiet, it grew loud again as cheers erupted from the victors of the battle. So it was back to waiting for you. While you could see some of the battle, you couldn't tell who won.

You began pacing as you waited. You were certain you would wear a hole in the floor until the door to your prison finally opened to reveal none other than Jon Snow himself. You blinked in surprise. "You beat him? You defeated Ramsay?" Jon looked at you in confusion, but nodded. You were so happy you could have cried. Instead, you curtsied. "Then I am in your debt. However I can be of assistance to you, my lord."

"What is your name?" You paused for a moment before deciding to give him only your given name and not your house. He contemplated for a second before nodding his head. You followed him from the room, eager to stretch your legs for the first time since before Sansa even ran away. Since Ramsay locked you up in your chambers.

You were greeted by Sansa with a hug. You liked the younger girl and didn't at all blame her for leaving you behind. She was protecting herself from a situation she never should have been in. Once your greeting was over, you went to work helping Sansa with the wounded. While your circumstances weren't ideal, you were happy to help. Especially when you began to get to know Jon.

Jon was such a strong and determined young man. And quite a gentleman. He was funny at times while extra serious at others. The two of you grew close much more quickly than you ever thought you would. You treasured every moment with the new king. Every private joke, the soft conversations, and the rare sweet smiles he would give you when he thought you couldn't see. You fell in love with him and thought he felt the same. If only Sansa hadn't let slip your secret.

*time skip*

You were absolutely confused. Jon had been avoiding you. He'd distanced himself seemingly out of nowhere. To say it hurt would have been an understatement. You'd thought the two of you had something special. Apparently you were wrong. What had happened?

Jon's POV

Jon sat in his study, staring at parchment in front of him even though Sansa was sitting in front of him. He should have been reading the letter from the lord, but his mind was elsewhere. It was on you.

"Are you certain?" he asked softly. Sansa looked confused. "Of course. Ramsay locked his sister up for helping. Y/N was the only thing close to a friend I had besides Theon. I've told you a hundred times the last few days, Jon. Why does it matter?"

"She lied to me, Sansa." Sansa scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "And? So what she's a Bolton? She's nothing like Ramsay was or even Roose. She protected me as best as she could. She is innocent, Jon." Jon sighed and turned back to his letter. He needed to get his mind off of you. It was easier said than done, but he managed once Sansa left the room. At least until he ran into you that evening in the courtyard.

"You're a difficult man to find, Jon Snow," your voice scared him. He turned to you and tried not to let his emotions show on his face. "Yes well, that's the life of a king I suppose." A frown made its way to your lips and your brows furrowed. "Ha-Have I done something?" you asked softly. At first, Jon didn't reply. He didn't want to yell and disturb anyone else or draw attention to the two of you.

"You're a Bolton," he finally told you. You froze and he continued, "Sansa told me. She said you helped her. But you're a Bolton and didn't tell me." A loud scoff left your lips . "That's what this is about? That is precisely why I didn't tell you. I knew I would be judged for my father and brother's actions despite fighting them every step of the way. But, you know what I never thought?" Jon merely shrugged.

"I never thought you, Jon Snow, would judge someone for their name. I-I thought we were…something. I love you, Jon, but I see that my feelings aren’t returned," you told him, your voice getting softer with every word. Again, Jon said nothing, but looked down at the ground. "I suppose that's it then. I'll be gone by morning. Perhaps I'll return to the Dreadfort."

You turned to leave, but Jon caught your arm in a gentle grip. "Wait," he whispered. You glanced over your shoulder at him. "What could you possibly say to make this better, Jon?"

"I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have judged. You've never judged me for being a bastard," he started, "And I do-I do love you. It's why the lie hurt me so much. I want us to be honest with each other. I know I have to make it up to you, and I'll spend forever doing so if that's what you want. Just don't leave. Please."

You turned to face him fully. "You're damn right you have to make it up to me," you started and he looked down at the ground. You laughed and continued on, "But I don't think it will take forever." He looked up at you again. You stepped closer to him. "All it will take is two things: a promise that you will never doubt me again. I will never lie to you ever again." Jon nodded after thinking for a moment and asked what the second thing was. Your smiled widened and you answered, "A kiss." Jon didn't waste a second in complying.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @etherealpotter @line-viper @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @gruffle1 @igotmadskills @smalltownbigheart

Jon Snow Tags: @multi-fandom-imagines8 @silversprings98

[burnnouts]

It was frightening how quickly things could change. When he had begun this war, he had planned to go South only to rescue his father, to return Eddard Stark to his rightful seat as Lord of Winterfell. But his father had been dead for years now, Robb's armies stuck just beyond the Riverlands. He had lost men and gained them, made oaths and broken them. He had been named Lord, and then King, and all the while, news came to him by the ravens alone. His sister had once been promised to Joffrey by their father--a betrothal Robb had always despised--and then he learned she was wed to the Imp. Margaery Tyrell had been married to Renly Baratheon when his mother had gone to negotiate with the King-to-be. Even that seemed ages ago now. Renly was dead. Joffrey was dead. Tommen now, too, was dead, with Cersei alone sitting upon the Iron Throne.

That would not do. He would see Cersei Lannister removed from power if it was the last thing he did. And Margaery Tyrell was--and had always been--the key to that success. The Tyrells moved wherever the winds changed, flitting from side to side in this war with no real loyalty but their own necks. But they had been wronged by Cersei now, and her family was honor bound to defend her and her brother, to seek revenge on those responsible. That made them allies, if nothing else. His mother had long recommended he come here; finally, Robb was listening.

"I thank you for your information," he said curtly. He had hoped to reunite with at least one of his sisters by now, but it seemed Sansa had gone the same way as Arya: on the run, where his letters and his armies could not reach her. If all went well, both his sisters would stay safe until Robb was able to remove Cersei from the Iron Throne, then return North to weed out the traitorous Boltons from Winterfell.

"While I am sure you are safe here in your home, I can offer you Northern guards as well, what we can spare. And news of your survival will not leave this room." Robb would make sure of it. Even now, he had his best archers shooting down any ravens in the area. The news both of his arrival in High Garden of his incoming siege on King's Landing, and of the prior Queen's survival would be best kept a secret for now, when victory was so close at hand. With the addition of the Tyrell's forces, he would finally have enough men to take the castle. "I am very sorry for your losses," he offered. "But they will not go unanswered. With your brother's aid, we shall have Cersei's head in a fortnight."

(⁠✿⁠ ⁠*✿⁠°)⁠/⁠～⁠♡ heart for a starter from margaery ft. @burnnouts

"I   knew   Sansa   when   she   was   at   the   Keep.   I   believe   I   considered   her   a   friend.   As   much   as   one   can   have   friends   in   that   place."   The   Thrice   wed   woman   speaks   with   ease.   She   remembers   how   relieved   the   king's   sister   had   been   when   the   news   she   no   longer   was   betrothed   to   Joffrey   reach   her.   Margaery   would've   carried   that   burden,   but   apparently,   the   Gods   had   other   plans   for   her.   After   this   third   wedding,   and   failed   marriage,   she   is   at   a   loss.   "Unfortunately,   she   escaped   when   Tyrion   was   captured.

  No   news   of   her   but   I   presume   she   might   be   with   Littlefinger.   Not   that   is   pure   safety   but   better   him   than   others.   And   she   is   smart."   She   had   grown   to   become   smarter   through   her   time   there.   Hopefully,   Sansa   is   alive   and   well   somewhere   to   reunite   with   her   brother.   She   too   reunited   with   a   brother   though   the   other,   her   favorite,   her   companion,   had   been   loss   to   the   wildfire.  

"Most   think   of   me   dead   still,   Your   Grace.   I   would   rather   have   it   that   way.   It's   best   Cersei   thinks   her   plan   worked   until   it's   time.   My   brother   is   lord   now,   and   he   will   join   the   North   against   the   Lannisters,   when   the   time   is   right."   Her   brother   Garlan   had   joined   her   in   this   visit,   a   promise   she   would   bring   the   best   the   Reach   has   to   offer   to   the   King   in   the   North.   

[thelustybraavosimaid]

To Forgive, Divine, Part II

[Part I]

The ache between her thighs was even sweeter than Aemon’s words of praise. 

She tried not to think of the events between the vows and her eventual rest, tucked neatly in the space of his arms, her face buried in the crook of his neck, and yet the memories came unbidden, flushing her cheeks and setting her body alight. 

Arya gave a stretch of satisfaction, then looked around, propping herself up on her elbows. The cloak was still underneath her, partially crusted and dirty, but she was not bothered by that. She saw that the bloody handprint that Aemon pressed onto the heart tree was gone, as if the tree’s bones devoured its essence. 

There was also no Aemon, his lean, hard form replaced with her Stark cloak to serve as a blanket yet again. 

Mayhaps he is inside with Mother and Father, she reasoned, hoping it was so. She draped her shoulders with the Stark cloak, holding the Targaryen one in her hands as she snuck back inside and into her room. She wanted to stay in it, keep it against her, but she knew that her lady mother would ask where she was and speak her exasperations about her hair being so tangled. But that’s not my fault, it’s Aemon’s fault, he won’t leave my hair alone. 

She dressed and brushed out the tangles of her hair before she grabbed the black-and-red cloak down with her to the Great Hall. The room was filled with the low murmurings of Sansa with Jeyne, Robb and Rickon, even Ned and Catelyn were discussing something amongst themselves. All of that died down when she made her entrance, a sea of blue eyes rising to meet her, with a lone pair of grey searching her face.  

“Ah, there you are, Arya. I was afraid you had raced to the wolfswood again without supping with us,” Ned swallowed a forkful of mash. “Are you still upset?”

Not anymore, she thought, but that would be half a lie. She felt despair swell in her chest as she peered around, only finding her family seated at the table. The sole empty space upon the dais was hers, the food undoubtedly lukewarm. Where could he be? Not even Ghost is here. She didn’t see him in any of the hallways she went down, either. 

She took her place warily, rolling her eyes when she saw Septa Mordane scoff when she put the knife in her left hand. She was going to tell her lord father that he needn’t worry, that she saw Aemon and wed him as was promised, to show them all the cloak that was folded haphazardly on her arm, but the words were cut short when the maester walked through the doorway. His colourful chains clanked and his soft shoes scuffed against the stone. 

"My Lord Eddard," Maester Luwin announced as he entered the Great Hall, "I bring tidings."

Ned set down his knife. "From where?"

"From King's Landing, my lord," the maester held out the tightly rolled message with the red dragon seal of House Targaryen. Arya stared at it curiously.

"King's Landing? That is odd..."

Aemon did say his father would send his regrets for his delay, Arya thought, staring at the parchment. Her lord father unrolled the message and the table fell back into silence, watching him. But it wouldn't have arrived from King's Landing.

His brow furrowed as his grey eyes darted left and right, then his face blanched. "Arya, I...I know the affection you had for him, but..."

"But what?" She couldn't help the squeak of her voice, feeling the sick coil of panic in the pit of her stomach. Worry swam in her chest as she unfurled the parchment and read.

...him?

Aemon...?

It is with great sadness that I report the passing of my father, King Rhaegar I, his Queen Lyanna, and my dear brother, Prince Aemon...

She couldn't get past the first sentence. Her mind froze, reeling, the letter caught in a vise grip between her trembling hands.

No, she thought, chewing at the skin of her lip until she could taste metal in her mouth. I was with him. Our wedding night, I was with him...

And suddenly the strangeness then made sense. She didn't want to make sense of it, though, she wanted to revel in his presence and swim in his beautiful dark gaze, hear the words of love dance from his lips onto her skin, feel his body meld to hers until she could no longer tell where he began and she ended, blending into one shape, one shadow claiming another. 

Now it wasn't just her hands that trembled. Bile rose to her throat and she was afraid she just might vomit. Arya sat back in her chair, her breaths quick and heavy.

No, she thought, shaking her head, this cannot be.

She didn't realise that Robb was over her shoulder, reading along with her.

"This letter says that Aemon is dead, that the king and the rest died a fortnight ago." His tone was incredulous. "Surely this is a lie—"

"But that can't be true," Bran cut in. Arya could feel his blue gaze on her, but she couldn't help but reread the same words, eyes flickering repeatedly. "Aemon can't be dead. I saw him last night when I went climbing."

Ned furrowed his brow. "What do you mean by that, boy?"

"He was in the godswood, waiting for Arya, I think. He didn't seem sad, though." Arya finally met Bran, but he was no longer looking at her. His hand was on his chin as if in deep contemplation. "He was holding a Stark cloak on his arm."

"I—I think I heard him, too," Rickon clutched his fork between his fingers, his cheeks full of mutton as he spoke. "Shaggy found Ghost and started chasing him, and I heard someone laughing. I think it was Aemon, but I can't be sure." Just as he mentioned his wolf, a blur of black and green was at his feet, mouth opening wide as the boy fed him a choice slice of meat before their mother could utter her protests. "It was in the godswood too, next to the black pool."

"There must be a reason why you're seeing and...hearing...this, but there's no reason why Aegon would report a falsity. He is King now," Catelyn began. "And there must be a reason why they aren't here—"

“Don’t worry, Arya,” Sansa chimed in, “surely Father will find you a match that’s ever so appropriate for you--”

Arya rose suddenly, tossing aside the message to grip Aemon's—her—cloak. The chair scraped against the stone floor and the noise reverberated throughout the great room, catching the attention of all. The material was soft in her hands, a contrast to her hard, building anger. She wanted to say something, to tell them that if she and Bran and Rickon saw him and heard him, then there's no way he could be gone, but tears were brimming, her throat was tight, and she was afraid she would only make a fool of herself.

The air was hot and stuffy, and she felt as if the grey granite walls were slowly closing in on her.

With shaky hands, she donned Aemon's cloak, the inside still stained with her maiden's blood and his come...and hers, and turned from the table.

"Where did you get that, Arya? Arya?" Her father called after her, but she let the question be drowned out by the need to head back to the grove, to the place of serenity.

When the smell of decaying earth filled her nose, so too did a song, one that she recognised almost immediately. That's Jenny's song, she thought, but the humming did not come from a natural-born singer.

The song ceased the moment she met eyes with her own ghost. One that wouldn’t leave her, no matter what.

Just as he had promised.

"I'm not half the singer my father was," he smiled with a boyish, infectious charm. "But I know the words all the same. He wrote it himself for a woods witch, did you know?"

"You!" She felt the urge to hit him again. How could he act like this after what she just heard? How could he be so nonchalant? "You better have a good reason for—!"

"I know you know.” His stare was soft, but still unreadable. “There was a reason why I couldn't tell you, Arya. But I was given permission to dwell here until the end of your days, wife of mine," he spoke just as she opened her mouth to interrogate him.

That took her aback. "By who?"

"As to that, who can say? The powers that be have no faces or names, and I could not tell you more even if I thought hard enough." His misty legs surged forward, his cold fingers twining with hers. "But what matters more, Lady Targaryen—that I'm here, or the identities of those who allowed me to be here?"

[rosenlily-aka-choconut]

“M’lady, the innkeep asked me to give this to you.” Podrick handed her a shabbily sealed piece of parchment, no sigil nor name to reveal the identity of the sender. “It arrived this morning.”

Brienne frowned at the letter, confusion and apprehension, the first emotions to hit her. Was this a threat to her quest? Who could possibly have known her whereabouts? She could safely rule out Cersei. She wouldn’t show her the courtesy of a letter; she’d rather send out assassins to close the matter once and for all.

Who, apart from Sansa’s key adversary could it be? Who—

Only one other name came to her mind, this one bringing a faint smile to her lips, the only one to leave her heart fluttering like a love-struck maiden’s. Blood rushed to her face, flushing her with inner warmth, and she gazed at it with fondness, picturing his handsome face. Every feature, right from his bright green eyes to his golden mane, his square jaw to the smile that weakened her - all of it, she vividly recalled, clearly with even the minutest detail locked in her mind, as if she’d seen him not days back, but yesterday.

It can’t be. Why would he? What business has he with me?

Her fingers tightening around the letter, she could feel the sweat from her palm leach into the parchment as her other hand involuntarily reached down to caress Oathkeeper’s hilt. With a deep breath, she unfolded it, holding back her doubts and questions until she’d uncovered her mystery correspondent.

She held her breath when she skimmed through the writing. Misshapen, the letters were, like a child’s, distinctly recognizable as the one she’d seen in the White Book on his page.

My lady.

She closed her eyes for a moment, his voice, his soft murmur whenever he called her a lady, returning to haunt her from the realm of her memories. Knowing better than to gauge his intentions without reading till the end, she went on.

Hope this finds you in good health and with a fair bit of success in your quest. As I sit down to write this, I’m wondering how to put this to you. I may be a man of many words, of thousand insults, even (my sincerest apologies for giving you hell in the past), but I know not, how to break this to you, except to begin with saying that I no longer love Cersei like that—

Brienne had to stop again, the words after that, blurring away into incoherence. Her heart jumped, throwing her off her emotional balance. A hundred interpretations of this, there could be, and many inferences.

Collecting her composure and whatever little patience was left in her, she pushed herself to go on.

I do love my sister, Brienne, and I always will, though not as my soulmate anymore, for that place in my heart is now occupied by another. I have left the Kingsguard, as my lord father has always wanted me to, and decided to take on the future I was destined for, the lord and heir to Casterly Rock.

Hopes and dreams had always lived in her eyes, but never did she expect the gods to oblige her with them. Could this be the day when dreams met real life?

My lord father says I must marry a suitable woman of noble birth and sire his heirs. Maidens, far and wide, he insists, I must meet and court, but none of them interest me, Brienne, for I have my heart set on who it will be.

The rest is up to you. My future - our future is in your hands, Lady Brienne, so what is it that you desire?

Tears crowded her eyes. When had anyone ever bothered to ask her that?

You were the only one to accept me for the man I am, so would you accept my heart and give me yours in return? Would you accept my proposal and be my wife? I may be exaggerating if I say I’d give you the world, but truth, it is, and nothing but the truth when I tell you that I am yours.

I am yours. She read it again. I am yours. Her eyes refused to move past that line until she’d properly registered it. Until it sank in.

Will you be mine, wench? If your answer is yes, I will come for you at once, to help you fulfill one vow. To make another with you. To seal our bond with the sacred words and a kiss.

Say yes, my lady, and shower this crippled knight with your love and a blessed future. If you think otherwise—

“Yes!” she cried out aloud, half-laughing and half-crying. “A thousand times yes!”

There was no room in her heart for otherwise. She didn’t want to read the rest. She didn’t have to.

“M’lady.”

She turned around, and there stood Pod with a gentle smile on his face. “Should I get you some parchment and quill?” he offered, taking in her face and the note in her hand.

“Yes, Podrick, that would be nice,” she replied, her voice shaking. “Thank you.”

As soon as her squire left, she re-read the words of love again, her heart swelling, her happiness out of bounds as she mentally composed her reply.

[navree]

What are some got/hotd/asoiaf theories that you are interested in?

Oof, that's tough because there are a LOT of theories when it comes to ASOIAF (I'm excluding Game of Thrones just because, well, we know how that ended. Badly. It ended very badly.) given the length of time between books and how dense they are. I also in all honesty don't tend to theorize much, mostly just have things that I think are going to happen, and things that I really want to happen even if I know they probably won't.

Things I am entirely certain are going to happen in ASOIAF include Jon's resurrection, fAegon as a Blackfyre, King's Landing will burn somehow, Alleras being Sarella, R+L=J, Dany getting involved/being crucial in the War for the Dawn. the Grand Northern Conspiracy in some way shape or form, Jaime being the valonqar, and likely some sort of Stark succession crisis (like, if it's found out Jon is Robb's heir that's going to come into conflict with Bran still being alive and legitimate to boot, as well as any of Littlefinger's potential plans for Sansa, and it's going to be messy and I want it to be messy).

Things I'm quite partial to even though they have less chance of being canon: Ashara and Ned having had some kind of liaison at some point, even if it didn't lead to Jon (and also I think something likely went on between Ashara and Brandon too, go Ashara), Jonrya, Euron having been a student of Bloodraven's at some point, Jojen paste, and the faint hope that Winds will actually be done soon.

In terms of general ASOIAF worldbuilding theories, the only ones I think about in longterm are a) that the Faceless Men had something instrumental to do with the Doom of Valyria, given what Arya is told, and the letter Nymor gave to Aegon I. That one is actually I think a lot about because what the fuck was in that letter!

This letter made him grip the barbed monstrosity of the Iron Throne so hard until he bled, when even just brushing your hand on it is enough, and it made him not only immediately end the war but also burn the letter and immediately leave straight for Dragonstone. I don't buy into the theory that the Martells had threatened to hire a Faceless Man to kill Aenys because a) Aegon made a peaceful trip to Sunspear later in his reign that he likely never would have done if they'd threaten to murder his traumatized toddler and b) Aegon did have another wife who did eventually get pregnant, it's not as if he'd be screwed out of an heir if Aenys was killed. No, what I think happened is that Aegon was told Rhaenys lived. It is possible to survive your dragon falling from the sky, both Aegon II and Baela manage it, and if Rhaenys could have managed to live even after Meraxes was shot down. But I don't think the Martells tortured Rhaenys either, that wouldn't have been conducive to the peace they clearly wanted, and it likely would have gone against some sort of ethical and moral code. The Dornish are more egalitarian than Westeros, so they likely would have respected Rhaenys's status as a warrior queen, and honestly, it seems like the Martells at the time had, in a strange way, a slight respect for the Conquerors. They were well aware that the Targaryens were attempting to fight a war of conquest, they just also wanted to win it and not be conquered and fought hard not to be, but no side ever treated each other discourteously and the Martells did eventually sue for peace even after the Dragon's Wroth (likely knowing it was understandable, considering what happened). What I think happened is, given we know that Meraxes was shot down over Hellholt, Rhaenys, having survived her fall, likely fell into the hands of the Ullers, who are known for being cruel and a bit crazy, and they probably did torture her. At some point, the Martells found out, were appropriately horrified and immediately pulled rank as the Ullers' lieges and took custody of Rhaenys. At some point, they likely realized she was not going to survive this, and thus Nymor sent the letter to Aegon, explaining what was going on and saying that, if there was peace, he would send Rhaenys to Dragonstone, so that she could at least die there, or be buried there if she didn't survive the trip. Aegon reads this, realizes that his dearest wife, mother of his child, the love of his life, his baby sister, the one thing that had bonded him to Visenya through their terrible grief, is still alive, and he can say goodbye, so he immediately goes to Dragonstone to see her, to say goodbye to the woman he loves most and burn her with their ancestors. And likely out of gratitude for the Martells doing something that they didn't have to do, and because Aegon was a pragmatic man who realized that the war wasn't working out and couldn't go on like this, not for the realm and not for his family, there was a peace, and enough goodwill for these actions that Aegon was able to go to and make merry with the Martells.

And also it gives so much depth to Aegon's character to have made this decision, knowingly leaving Visenya in the dark even though Rhaenys was important to her too and likely causing some sort of rift, while choosing to value his remaining family and to have this one final moment with the person he loves most save for his son, and being able to understand the grace House Martell extended to him so he could have that and to be thankful for it enough to respect their sovereignty in spite of having previously tried to raze the entire country to the ground.

I don't necessarily have a lot of HOTD theories because I know the ending. I know how this story goes, start to finish, so there's nothing I can really theorize about, especially now that we're heading into the portion of the Dance where things are exceptionally well chronicled. Off the top of my head, my main theories I lend most credence to and am invested enough in are 1) Alys and Aemond were in the deepest and purest love (it's basically canon fuck you) and so the boy Alys has when she rules Harrenhal afterwards is Aemond's son 2) that the Shepherd is likely going to be someone who was injured in the Dragonpit during Aegon's coronation 3) that Daemon and Nettles likely did have an affair and he wasn't her dad.

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Dark Jonsa Ideas

Sansa was kidnapped by Ramsey and is readjusting to her life Modern AU

Jon was wrongfully imprisoned (the Starks bust him out) AU

Ned and Cat betrayed Sanaa’s trust/didn’t believe she had a traumatic experience. The Stark Siblings try to heal their relationship AU

USA Gymnastics AU (ft. Petyr Baelish in a Larry Nassar esque role)

Harry Potter AU (maybe Sansa is a squib?)

I have lots of random ideas lol I’ll keep sharing them and maybe something will click :) I love your work

Jonsa HP AU/Squib Sansa AU

Well... THIS has been sitting in my inbox for a while (not as long as that one last prompt from when I asked for them last December, though. Yikes.)

I'll be honest, I wasn't ever going to do a Harry Potter AU. It's been done a million times before and by better writers than me. But today I sat down and went, you know what? I don't think I've read a Sansa-the-squib one before. So here we are.

A disclaimer, I am no HP expert. I was when I was a kid, but I went a solid decade without ever touching it or the fandom because I got salty about the ending, and have only recently re-watched the movies. I have not read or seen any of the sequels/prequels. But also I don't think I go too deep into HP lore here, so it probably doesn't matter.

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on AO3 here

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Sansa is on the couch reading Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time when she hears the distant pop of a portkey outside.

It's about time, she thinks. She's never sure why her siblings have to ride that train from Hogwarts all the way down to London, only to portkey back up to Scotland, but she has learned over the years not to question things too much. She may have grown up around magic, but she understands that there are some things that are not meant for her.

There's a bark of Robb's laughter and she feels herself smile as she slips her finger in between the pages of Jane Austen as a bookmark. She may be a squib, an outcast from wizard society, but her family has not disowned her – not like the stories she has heard of other families with squibs. No, Sansa is lucky. And Robb? Robb is her biggest supporter.

She hears Rickon start moving upstairs, also having heard the portkey, and mom comes out of the kitchen. Sansa has just stood up, book still clutched in her hand, when the door opens and dad comes through first, followed by Arya, then Bran, and finally Robb.

Except – not finally. Behind Robb is a boy she's never seen before, with dark hair curling around his chin, wire-rimmed glasses, and a fully muggle outfit just like the rest of them.

Robb freezes and his eyes go wide. “Sansa,” he starts, “I thought you'd be in France.”

Sansa herself attends a very prestigious all girls school outside of London, and one of her best friends, Margaery, is taking her to France with her family this summer. “I'm not leaving for a few weeks,” she corrects Robb. She thought she'd explained it well enough in her last letter.

Its then that she remembers mom mentioning that Robb's best friend would be visiting this summer, though Robb had written no such thing in his own letter. This must be Jon – Sansa has heard enough about him in the six years Robb has been at that school. She has never met him, though she knows Robb has gone over to Ireland to visit him the past few summers.

Robb is silent for a few moments as she waits expectantly for the proper introduction to his friend. Finally it comes, a hesitant, “Jon, this is my sister, Sansa.”

She watches Jon's brow furrow, his mouth turns down, his eyes go from Robb, to Arya, to Bran, before he says, “I didn't know you had another sister.”

Sansa feels like she can hear her blood pumping through her veins in the silence of the room; soon it's all she can hear. Jane Austen falls to the floor from her suddenly limp fingers and she barely hears her mother's scolding sigh of, “Robb.”

And then she runs.

She shoves her way past mom and through the kitchen and out the back door. She doesn't pay attention to where she's going – all she can hear is that horrible little voice in her head.

Robb doesn't talk about you. Robb is ashamed of you. They all are.

Somehow, inexplicably, she ends up at the little shed where they keep the quidditch supplies. She hates this building. It isn't meant for her.

She yanks open the door anyway and slams it shut behind her, finding a spot on the floor to sit. It's only then, when she's finally stopped moving, that the tears come, hot and fast. She pulls her knees up to her chest and buries her face in them and tries to be as quiet as she can. In the distance, she can hear her family shouting her name, but they will not be able to find her. She has no wand to trace, and tracking spells don't work on her, either.

Some things are not meant for Sansa. She has always known it.

She doesn't know how long she spends curled up in the quidditch shed. Eventually she stops crying and she wishes that she could call Mya – one of her best friends from school and the only person who knows about magic. They'd gotten drunk one night from vodka that Margaery had snuck into the dorms and she and Mya had been the last ones awake. She remembers Mya pinky-promising her that she would never tell.

But she can't call Mya, because electronics don't work at Winterfell Manor. It is too old, too infused with magic. If she wants to make a call on her mobile, she has to bike into town. She has all her friends convinced that it's just poor reception.

(And that only reminds her that the Starks are one of the old families – a long line of proud witches and wizards. She does not belong here.)

The door to the shed suddenly opens and she gasps a bit in surprise, which makes Jon's eyes move to the floor, where she is. If she'd just stayed silent, perhaps he would have never seen her.

“Hi,” he says, like he's not sure what else to say. “Your family's looking for you.”

“I'm a squib, not deaf,” she bites back, feeling a fresh wave of tears rise up in her.

Jon sighs, then looks off to the left and in the distance, she can still hear her name being called. Then he comes inside and lets the door swing shut behind him and he sits on the dusty floor beside her.

After a few moments of silence, he says, “I don't want to say that I know what it's like, but I think I can understand a little.” She gives him a glare, and he winces a bit. “I just meant, I'm muggleborn.”

“Congratulations,” she balls her hands into fists and looks away from him.

“What I mean is that my family doesn't talk about me either,” he explains, speaking slowly and carefully. She likes his accent. “It's not the same, not totally, but my mom spent so many years lying to people, I think she just found it easier to stop talking about me altogether. She can't tell anyone that I made the quidditch team, or how many O levels I'm taking.”

That makes Sansa turn her head again to look at him. He's got a rueful smile on his face, it looks a bit sad.

“She got a new job last year,” he continues. “I don't think any of her new coworkers know I exist. I know it's not totally the same, she isn't allowed to tell people about what I am, but I still... it still sucks.”

“At least you have magic,” she whispers.

“So what?” She levels another glare at him and this time it makes him smile. “Magic doesn't make anyone inherently better, no matter what those weird blood purists say.” His face twists into a scowl and she wonders if he's had run-ins with them before. She knows the type – families like the Targaryens who think magic should only be kept in the old families. No muggleborns, no half breeds, and certainly no squibs.

She used to think her own family was different – hasn't dad been championing for the rights of house elves and goblins and werewolves and other magical beings? She has never doubted it before, but suddenly she wonders if dad is the same – if dad doesn't talk about her, either. He sent her away to a boarding school in a different country - what if dad doesn't talk about her, just like Robb doesn't?

Robb, who always told her it didn't matter whether she had magic or not, she was still a part of the family. Robb, who encouraged her painting and writing and told her she could be whatever she wanted to be. Her older brother, her protector. He's ashamed of her.

“My mom doesn't have magic," Jon says, his voice fierce. "I've got friends back home that don't. They aren't any less of a person than me. And if I'm being honest, there's stuff from the muggle world I miss when I'm at school.”

“Like what?” she sniffs, trying to subtly wipe her nose on the knees of her jeans, which are still pulled tight to her chest.

“Like phones. Like movies and football and good music. Good music,” he emphasizes, “have you noticed that all wizard music is just about magic? It's like they can't sing about anything else.”

To her surprise, a bubble of laughter builds in her and it escapes from her lips. Jon looks a bit pleased with himself.

“I do like muggle music better,” she admits, something she has never even thought to say to any of her family before.

“We'll have to compare,” he says with a soft smile. “Swap playlists or something.”

“Electronics don't work here,” she tells him, and he nods.

“That's right, Robb told me I'd have to go into town to ring my mom.”

“I do that to talk to my friends.”

“Well,” he shrugs, and his eyes dart away from her, “maybe we can go into town together and go to a movie or something. Robb doesn't really get them, he says. It'll be nice to go with someone who does.”

“I'd like that,” she whispers, then presses her face into her knees because she thinks she might cry again.

“Robb might be weird about it,” Jon continues. “But honestly, I'm kinda pissed at him for never mentioning you, so he can deal with it.”

Another burst of laughter, mixed with tears – she is a swirl of emotions and she's too muddled to try and figure out what she's feeling. She's not sure how long they sit there, but eventually she notices that her name is no longer being called.

“We should probably go back,” Jon murmurs at some point, and when she looks up, she can see that the sky through the little shed window has turned orange.

He helps her stand, and they leave the shed and walk back towards the house. The kitchen door opens and mom appears on the landing, hand pressed to her heart. Robb is right behind her, looking pale and withdrawn.

“Sansa-” he starts, but she holds her hand up.

“I'm not ready to talk to you yet,” she tells him, but it comes out shakier than she wanted. She wanted to sound strong, cold even. Instead it just sounds like she's about to cry again. The stricken look on Robb's face doesn't make her feel any better, though she wishes it did. She wishes she took comfort in hurting him, but it just makes everything worse.

“You missed dinner,” mom says softly, “come inside, I have some warmed for you.”

She follows her mom in and sits at the kitchen table as mom sets a plate in front of her. She notes that mom doesn't use magic at all to do any of it, though she does suspect there was a warming spell. Mom always tries to do things the non-magic way when she can.

“Jon and I are going to go to a muggle movie in town,” she tells mom, picking up her fork and pushing some peas around on her plate.

Jon gives an uncomfortable cough before he says, “I just thought it'd be nice to do something...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair awkwardly.

“You missed dinner, too,” mom says softly, gesturing at another seat at the table, and then another plate appears in her hands.

“I think a movie is a fine idea,” dad says. He and mom sit at the table with her and Jon - Robb has disappeared, like he understands she can't bear to even look at him right now.

“Dad?” She still hasn't eaten a thing, she's not sure she can. When dad looks at her, she asks, “do you talk about me? At work?”

Dad sits back in his chair and mom reaches across the table to take his hand.

“Do you know, when I was young, I never thought much about the rights of non-witches and wizards. And do you know why I've made it my mission now? I'm ashamed to say it took you to open my eyes to it. You're all I talk about, Sansa, even when I'm talking about werewolves or muggleborns or centaurs or... anyone.”

“I should go,” Jon murmurs, pushing his chair back and standing as Sansa presses her hands to her face. He leaves the room, though there's a part of her that wishes he would stay. He understands her, and he seems to understand that she needs to be alone with her parents right now.

“You aren't ashamed of me?” she asks, voice wobbly and low. She sounds so pathetic, but she needs to know.

“Never,” dad says fiercely.

“But you sent me away.”

“We thought it was best,” mom sighs, and then her chair scrapes back and suddenly Sansa is wrapped in her mother's arms. “We looked for the best school that we could send you to. We wanted you to have everything. Any opportunity you wanted. You couldn't have that here at Winterfell.”

“I think perhaps we should have explained it better,” dad says, just as soft. “I think there's a lot of things we could have done better. I think there's some things we should talk about more, with the whole family.”

Sansa thought, perhaps, that she was all out of tears, but she isn't. She turns and buries her face into her mother and cries for what feels like hours. She cries until she is too tired to cry anymore and then dad picks her up like he hasn't done since she was a child and carries her upstairs.

Maybe one day she can forgive Robb, she thinks. Maybe one day she can forgive Arya and Bran, though their betrayal hurts less. She and Arya never really got along, and Bran likely followed the example set by his older siblings. It's Robb that hurts most of all.

But maybe one day.

Maybe one day dad will succeed, maybe one day being a squib won't be the shameful thing it is now. Maybe one day the world will be different.

For now, though, things are the same. For now, she'll focus on the things she has – her trip to France with the Tyrells. The new set of oil paints she had picked up in London before she came home. A muggle movie with a boy that might understand her better than her family ever could. She thinks she's looking forward to that one most of all.

That's her last thought before she finally slips off to sleep.