#Jon Arri

[aerithisms]

thesis statements!!

[cinesludge]

Movie #8 of 2024: Life

I mean, why would you ever put your hand in there?

[thegirlfromstationsquare]

Do i even need to talk about the crap Jon Gray still gets to the point someone drew pics of him getting beat up? But apparently it's all deserved bc he worked on a bad comic. And that's what gets me about the fandom they can pick on other writers Sega employees and voice actors, but if you slightly criticize Flynn suddenly you committing a crime?

Ever feel like you give Ian Flynn a bit (keyword bit) more hate than he actually deserves. I mean in-spite of the confusing Robo-Robotnik shit from Archie, his writing for Eggman was genuinely great.

That's debatable. Eggman had some fine moments I'll admit, but in retrospect, there were also warning signs for how IDW would choose to portray him. And I still think the entire concept of the Egg Bosses isn't suiting for him: even if he has ways to keep them in place, why would he even bother gathering a whole group of anthros who can talk back at him when he can just use his robots? The Egg Bosses weren't even that powerful on their lonesome.

If you think Flynn gets "a bit" too much hate, how would you describe the legit vitriol thrown in the direction of not only Pontaff, but also SEGA themselves? You guys sure never seem to be in a rush to come to THEIR defense, and it also doesn't help that every time I or my friends bring this double standard up, the rest of you keep dodging the question and go right back to saying the guy who dips his fingers in nearly every section of the franchise and continues to be placed on a golden pedestal despite his writing often being mediocre at best is the one who has it bad.

[the-key-five]

arya stark appreciation week → day 1: quote

Only the kindly man knew the Common Tongue. "Who are you?" he would ask her every day. "No one," she would answer, she who had been Arya of House Stark, Arya Underfoot, Arya Horseface. She had been Arry and Weasel too, and Squab and Salty, Nan the cupbearer, a grey mouse, a sheep, the ghost of Harrenhal . . . but not for true, not in her heart of hearts. In there she was Arya of Winterfell, the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn, who had once had brothers named Robb and Bran and Rickon, a sister named Sansa, a direwolf called Nymeria, a half brother named Jon Snow. In there she was someone . . . but that was not the answer that he wanted.

A Feast for Crows, Arya II

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Queen's Bride (Part 1)

Summary :

Being a rich man's kid isn't as exciting as everyone makes it out to be.

You have no freedom.

Every choice has been made for you ever since you were born.

What you eat. What course you were going to study. What school you're going to.

Even the one you were going to marry.

So to your surprise, your father has finally chosen one thing right for you.

Daenerys Targaryen.

Warnings : Omegaverse. Stark!Reader. Omega!Reader x Alpha!Daenerys Targaryen. Modern!AU.

Look who's finally watching Game of Thrones. Surprise, surprise, I fell in love with Daenerys.

"This is bullshit!" Jon, your cousin, shouts as he paces around you.

Both of you were just given two names.

Two people you never met that you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

"Who the fuck is Ygritte and why do I have to marry her?" Jon shouts in frustration and you shrug.

"I mean, Father could've paired you with one of the Lannisters. Myrcella is an omega-"

"Shut up." Jon glares at you.

"You have to admit it. Ygritte is pretty as fuck."

"Lucky for Robb, huh? He's the heir so he could choose freely."

"She is. But- I don't know her, Y/N." Jon sighs as he sits next to you.

"Lucky asshole." You slap his arm.

"He's my big brother."

"He is. I wish I could be the heir."

"Seriously? You? Jon Stark of Winterfell Corp? Are you hearing me?"

"Shut up." The two of you look at each other then laugh. "Yours is pretty too, by the way. And a Targaryen too."

"Why them? Our mottos are literally parallels."

"Yeah. Winter is Coming."

"Fire and Blood. Like why her?" You groan at the ceiling.

"Just be glad that she's pretty. Some don't get that lucky."

"Are you talking about-" Jon nods and you sigh.

"I just wish we had freedom."

"Me too. Y/N. Me too."

-

You get your bag and look at the empty apartment around you.

"I need Sansa to room with me. Like gods, this place is fucking big enough for ten people at least." You mumble to yourself as you leave the apartment.

Just like everything else in your life. The apartment was provided by your Father, Ned Stark. You could count the number of times on your fingers that you've actually talked to him rather than just receive orders or scolding from him.

Your phone rings just as you get inside the Westeros University. You answer it as you see your little sister's name.

"Y/N! How are you?" You smile at Arya's voice.

"I'm good, Arry. Where are you?" How is she calling you right now?

"I'm at home. There was a lice problem at school today so we went home! Are you free??" You grin at her exciting tone.

"In two hours, I will be. Why?"

"Can we go play? Mom said she'll let me go to the mall if I'm with you!"

"Sure, can you wait there and behave?"

"Yep! See you later!"

"See you." You say softly and smile as you go to your first and last class of the day. You were so glad that you chose your own schedule. You sit down at your usual seat and hum as you take out your laptop. Looks like professor Varys is late today.

Westeros University is the biggest University in all of Westeros. It has lessons even in magic.

"Did you hear, Y/N?" You look up as Oberyn sits beside you. You were somewhat friends. He can charm anyone in a room while you can outread anyone in a room. Truth be told, even you didn't know why he talked to you.

"Hear what?"

"Not interested in rumors as usual?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Even if Varys tells us otherwise, I still don't like rumors and hearsays." Oberyn nods and grins in satisfaction.

"Which is why you make the perfect audience." You sigh. "Listen to this. Someone is doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Seeing if the dragons will choose them."

"Seriously? That thing hasn't been done in like 200 years."

"Right? But someone is brave enough to do it now. You know what it means, right?"

"Yeah. They get to sit on the Iron Throne regardless of their last name."

"And?" You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion.

"And what?"

"Complete freedom!" You tilt your head at him. "No more choices by parents! No arranged marriages!"

"Damn. Sounds like a dream come true."

"For you guys. I still don't get why you guys won't love freely."

"Because last names have a value of their own. Here at Westeros at least. Oh. And Westeros Conglomerate too." Oberyn shakes his head.

"What you guys should value is talent, not blood."

"Meritocracy rather than blood right. Reasonable." Oberyn looks at you. "I don't make the choices though."

"Marry the king then."

"I'd rather die, Oberyn. I'd rather eat my own shit."

"Still hate men?"

"Only romantically." Oberyn chuckles just as Varys comes through the door.

"You're missing out on like half of the world then." You give him a smile.

"I don't think I am."

-

You hum as you park your car in front of the Stark Mansion. You were just getting your bag when you feel a pair of arms circle around your legs. You look down and see Arya smiling at you.

"Hey, Arya!" You scoop her up and she squeals. Arya is only 9 years younger but you love doing this to her. "Where's Ma and Father?"

"Dad is still at work! Ma is inside!" You put her down and nod.

"Come on, then. I'll tell Ma that I'll take you to the mall." Arya grins at you and she begins to tell you about her classmates and school.

"And then this one guy-"

"Y/N! You're home!" Catelyn Stark rushes over and hugs you. You hug her just as tightly.

"Hey, Ma. Arya wanted to play with me and it's been months since I've been home so I figured I should take her."

"I'm sure she understands that you're busy with university and all."

"I know, Ma! But school is out and she said she was free." Arya pouts from beside you and you smile.

"I am free, no worries." You ruffle Arya's hair and she smiles at you.

"Be sure to be back for Dinner then."

"We'll buy some before we get home. Are Robb and Father-"

"Busy." You nod in understanding then take Arya's hand.

"You ready for an afternoon with me? Your best sister?"

"YEAH! We'll destroy those high scores in the arcade!" You grin and agree.

-

You come home with a passed out Arya, a bag full of plushies, and a bag with food.

"You actually made her sleep? You are a godsend." You laugh at your mom and grin.

"Once you get Arya's quirks and use them against her, she can make herself run out of energy."

"Please don't tell-"

"Ma, she wants to. She can afford to learn it still."

"But her marri-"

"She's still 9, ma. She doesn't need to think about that yet."

"Right. Are you staying for dinner at least?"

"Sure. Is Sansa-" Before you finish your sentence, someone has already hugged you.

"Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" You turn around and find your other little sister, Sansa Stark.

"Well, I had to exhaust this one so." Sansa looks at Arya who was cuddling your neck still.

"Whoa. Arya never sleeps this early."

"Like I said. Exhausted. Are Brandon and Rickon here?"

"Yep! They should be getting back from Winterfell by now."

"What did they do there??"

"Father wanted to show them something. Are you staying tonight?"

"If you're willing to share your bed."

"ALWAYS!" You shush her and smile.

"I'll just be putting this one in her bed then I'll come down. Here." You give the bag full of food to Catelyn and smile. "Some of my favorites."

"I'll plate them up." You nod and begin your walk with Arya still sleeping while cuddling your neck.

"You're becoming heavier, Arya. I wonder if I should do some training just so I can carry you around."

-

"Y/N! You're back!" Brandon says then hugs you.

"Hey, little brother." You kiss his head and smile as he beams at you.

"SIS!" Rickon shouts then tackles you to no avail.

"Heya, baby bro." You pick him up and grin. "Did you grow??"

"I did! I'm defeating Arya soon!" You grin at him.

"Don't let her hear you!" You ruffle his hair then turn to Sansa. "Did you do your homework yet?"

"No? Will you help me later?" She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you groan at her. You admit that you're too weak to your siblings.

"Fine. But no talking about boys. I swear to God if I hear one more thing about-"

"But Ser Loras is just so dreamy." You look at her with a deadpan expression.

"Try me and I will sleep besides Arya." Sansa pouts.

"Fine. No boy talk." She grumbles. "Stingy."

"I'm gay. I'd rather marry another omega as long as she's a woman." Catelyn smiles as she sees you getting along with your siblings.

"Do not plant ideas in their head."

"Ma, Sansa is as straight as a ruler. These two don't even know what their second genders are." Catelyn rolls her eyes at you. "That reminds me, when's your test?" You look at Sansa as you place Rickon at his seat.

"This Monday! I'm so excited to confirm that I'm an Omega!"

"And if you're a beta?" You ask and Catelyn slaps your arm. "What? There's nothing wrong about being a beta! I wanted to be one before."

"You did?" Sansa asks and you nod. "Why?"

"More options." Catelyn hits your head and you laugh.

"Why? Does being an omega lessen your options?"

"Technically, I can't have another omega as my soulmate. Not that it matters."

"Oh yeah, dad said he sent you someone." You roll your eyes at that.

"He sent a file of someone. He wouldn't just let some stranger in my apartment."

"Who is it?? Can we know??" You groan at the excitement in Sansa's voice. There's nothing more that interests her than love talk.

"She's a Targaryen."

"The Dragon Family!" Rickon shouts and you ruffle his hair.

"Yup! Bran, do you know their motto?" Brandon hums as he gets some food.

"Yeah. Fire and Blood, right?"

"Yup! You all will get some ice cream. I brought some earlier." Catelyn glares at you. "What?"

"Cavities."

"I only visit once in a while, Ma. Just this once." Catelyn pinches your cheek. "Ow! Give! Give!"

"Just this once and don't ever do this again without saying anything to me."

"Yes, Ma! I got it! Ow!" Catelyn finally lets you go and you hold your cheek. You pout at her. "You didn't have to pinch that hard."

"You know how I feel about sweets." You sigh.

"I know. Sorry."

-

"Good thing the ice cream didn't give Rickon sugar rush."

"Yeah. It was a relief that Ma didn't pinch me."

"Those two boys really love you and adore you."

"They do." You look at Sansa and pat her hair. "I hope you become a beta, baby girl." Sansa scoffs at you.

"Wha- why!?" You smile sadly at her.

"So then you'll have more freedom." Sansa holds your hand. "Sadly. As an Omega, everything is controlled for you here in Westeros. Specially if you have a last name of a noble."

"Y/N." You squeeze her hand and grin.

"Hopefully, you and Arya get to decide your own futures. And your own partners." Sansa gets teary eyed at that. You let go of her hand then pat her hair again. "Time to get ready for bed. I'll just check on Arya for a second, okay?" Sansa nods at you and you close her door before covering your mouth with your hand.

Freedom. What a grand word. For you, it was thrown out the window when you got your test results.

Everyone says that Omegas have equal standings with Alphas. That the world is getting better.

"What a load of fucking bullshit." You mumble to yourself as you make your way to Arya's room.

You open the door and see that Arya is still fast asleep. You get to her bed and kiss her head.

"I hope you'll have more freedom than me, little one." You tuck her in and leave.

-

PS.

Jon is a Stark here and Catelyn knows he's Lyanna's son but no one knows who his father is. Let's just pretend for a second that he's not a Targaryen.

I actually was going to go the usual route for this aka Alpha Reader but decided against it. Omega Reader just works better for the angst inside my head.

[clytemnaestraes]

Catelyn, Arya, and Alyssa Arryn: unshed tears + weeping statues symbolism

The half-mythic, half-ancestral figure of Alyssa Arryn furthers themes connecting Catelyn and her daughters (Arya in particular) and grief.

Alyssa Arryn had seen her husband, her brothers, and all her children slain, and yet in life she had never shed a tear. So in death, the gods had decreed that she would know no rest until her weeping watered the black earth of the Vale, where the men she had loved were buried. Alyssa had been dead six thousand years now, and still no drop of the torrent had ever reached the valley floor far below. Catelyn wondered how large a waterfall her own tears would make when she died. 

Catelyn VII, AGOT

Alyssa was cursed by the gods because she did not grieve/weep for her family. Catelyn wants the war to be over so that she can weep for her family and grieve her losses.

I want to write an end to this. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband."

Catelyn XI, AGOT

She woke aching and alone and weary; weary of riding, weary of hurting, weary of duty. I want to weep, she thought. I want to be comforted. I'm so tired of being strong. I want to be foolish and frightened for once. Just for a small while, that's all... a day... an hour...

Catelyn II, ACOK

However, she can't, because she's emotionally exhausted and burdened by her duties, and because she thinks she has to be strong for the sake of Robb.

Does he see Bran and Rickon as well? She might have wept, but there were no tears left in her.

Catelyn III, ASOS

Six Brave men had died to bring her this far, and yet she could not even find it in her to weep for them.

Catelyn VI, AGOT

The parallel between Catelyn and Alyssa is furthered when Bronn breaks the statue of Alyssa during the duel and subsequently uses it to pin his opponent to the ground and kill him, thus shattering Catelyn’s hopes of justice.

The Eyrie's plump septon escorted him to the statue in the center of the garden, a weeping woman carved in veined white marble, no doubt meant to be Alyssa.

Catelyn VII, AGOT

Jon Arryn's beautifully engraved silver sword glanced off the marble of the weeping woman and snapped clean a third of the way up the blade. Bronn put his shoulder into the states back. The weathered likeness of Alyssa Arryn tottered and fell with a great crash, and Ser vardis Egen went down beneath her.

Catelyn VII, AGOT

Catelyn dies in ASOS and is resurrected as a vengeful, inhuman fire wight, Lady Stoneheart. Lady Stoneheart demands vengeance, but that's not the true route to rest for Catelyn’s soul. In order for it to rest in peace, Catelyn needs to grieve her dead family members properly. She needs to let her tears fall. Mother Merciless needs Mercy. It has been theorised that her path will intersect with Arya's for this reason.

Art by Nejna on devianart

There are several passages in the books connecting Arya in Braavos to weeping statues of stone, unshed tears, and Catelyn/Lady Stoneheart.

Arya and Cat/Catelyn/Lady Stoneheart:

Cats never weep, she told herself, no more than wolves do.

Cat of the Canals, AFFC

Braavos was a good city for cats, and they roamed everywhere, especially at night. In the fog all cats are grey, Mercy thought.

Mercy, TWOW

Arya thinks cats are grey, and cats do not weep, paralleling the symbolism surrounding Lady Stoneheart.

Grey was the color of the silent sisters, the handmaidens of the Stranger. Brienne felt a shiver climb her spine. Stoneheart.

Brienne VIII, AFFC

Arya and unshed tears:

Some nights she might have cried herself to sleep if she had still been Arry or Weasel or Cat, or even Arya of House Stark… but no one had no tears.

The Blind Girl, ADWD

Arya and Weeping statues:

I am carved of stone, she reminded herself. I am a statue.

The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD

The nearest was a marble woman twelve feet tall. Real tears were trickling from her eyes, to fill the bowl she cradled in her arms. The Weeping Woman was the favorite of old women, Arya saw.

Arya I, AFFC

The statue outside the shrine of the Weeping Lady of Lys was crying silver tears as the ugly girl walked by.  

The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD

It can be fairly reasoned that Arya and Lady Stoneheart's paths will intersect at some point. She is the Mercy to her Mother Merciless.

[agentrouka-blog]

i always love your responses because i think you do such a good job explaining things (even though some of it is just common sense)... so i was wondering if you could read this meta? i've come across this sort of idea about sansa before in their circles, but this is the first time that i've seen them try to argue that she is somehow inherently unloveable *rolls eyes*

-Something I find really interesting is that for all Sansa craves admiration and “love” from others, she’s not especially good at making friends or inspiring supporters. When people do decide to support or “befriend” her in the story, it is always with ulterior motives—almost all of which serve themselves. This includes characters like the Hound, whose connection to Sansa is built off his own ideology concerning knighthood and gender in their social system.

Her inability to create that support system is partially due to her environments: King’s Landing and the Vale, neither of which are necessarily forgiving places. However, despite her hostage status and shamed House, Sansa is still a valuable person to befriend, even if only for ladies. She’s pretty, performs her ladyhood well, has a famous bloodline, and is tied to the very wealthy ruling family. What’s more, she’s obviously mistreated (for a portion of her time in the capital) and without much actual power. If anything, she should garner sympathy friendships, but with everything else in mind, she should attract at least some love, some support that isn’t totally disingenuous or self-serving, however minuscule. And yet even that eludes her for some reason.

The way similar characters—her siblings particularly—so easily find friends and supporters throughout the books really draws Sansa’s lack of them to the forefront. Jon, for example, finds friends in both the Night’s Watch and amongst the wildlings. Bran forms close friendships with Jojen and Meera. Arya literally makes friends in nearly every place she goes, be they high- or lowborn. Daenerys finds companions in her ladies and Missandei and gathers loyal supporters in people like Ser Barristan. Even Catelyn as Lady Stoneheart earns the support of the Brotherhood. Granted, many of these supporters operate in their devotion to specific Houses, but they’re not doing it to serve their own wants and desires, which is a stark contrast to those “supporters” who surround Sansa at various times.

All in all, I’m intrigued at the way Sansa’s desire for love—genuine or affected—evades her while many of her contemporaries, misfits and traditional characters alike, garner it quite easily. Aside from her environments, what is it about her specifically that seems to repel genuine relationships? And what does this persistent inability to gather loyal friends, companions, and supporters indicate about her future role, if there is one?-

if you can probably tell its written by an arya stan

I laughed. 😂 Anything to cling to the idea of queen Arya - or rather not!queen Sansa.

As if being a hostage of the royal family in the royal palace in the royal capital, surrounded by enemies and spies is not the entire reason Sansa is isolated. Do they even consider how much more risk is involved in even casually approaching her, than there is for anyone having a chat with "Arry" or "Nan" or "Cat"? There is nothing "partially" about it. She is a well-guarded hostage and no one safe and well-intentioned enters the perimeter of her prison, end of.

Once Sansa is in the Vale, she is still more difficult to approach by anyone than a "simple" lowborn girl, as the bastard daughter of Littlefinger (soon Lord Protector) - who takes pains to control who she interacts with and how. And still she begins to form tentative bonds to the people around her - mindful to keep her emotional distance to a degree after what happened with Margaery and Dontos.

Which highlights another crucial aspect. Arya's bonds? Generally represent her attachment to others, not the other way around. She declares Hot Pie and Gendry her pack and feels betrayed that they have their own lives and plans, she never asked them if they feel the same way and I doubt it - and yet her bond to Gendry (also on the run, no threat to her!) - is the single most genuine mutual attachment she forms after she becomes a fugitive. Do they think Yoren helped her because she's uniquely worthy and not because she is Ned's daughter? Do they think Jaqen has no ulterior motive? Or Harwin and Beric? They are kind because they can afford to be but their motives are their own ends. Do they think Lady Smallwood would have somehow withheld this same kindness from Sansa? The captain of the Titan's Daughter knows she is connected to the Faceless Men, ffs. And what possible risk is attached to the women of the Happy Port being kind to a beggar girl?

To her vast credit, Arya forms quick and genuine attachments to other people. More so than Sansa, whose situation also doesn't allow for it. But these attachments don't represent a support system and they aren't deep bonds.

This distorted representation of their ability to connect to people certainly doesn't allow for some kind of speculation how Sansa would act and be perceived in a safe environment and or in a role of political leadership.

[marytunno]

-read below-

DEEPER THAN SWORDS

It was easy to be scared on the road, it was easy being scared when having to be just an orphan boy, it was easy being scared when hot tears burned Arya’s face each night at the thought of her father. She had fought her fear when the other orphan boys had tried to take her sword, Needle was hers, it wasn’t fair the way they said it was stolen, Jon wasn’t a thief and Needle was all she had left of him. Arya did want to hurt badly the baker boy but it had been easy to lash all her anger at him, even when Yoren had punished her for it, even when she had to walk on foot it had been easier than parting from her Needle.

At night the red light of the comet was shining bright among the other stars, Gendry polished his elm and looked at it as if it held the answers to the thousand thoughts haunting his mind. It looked like a sword, like the swords he had seen at his master’s shop, like the one he could have made one day… now he wasn’t going to make swords anymore he thought, he was going to fight with the sword Yoren had given him, he was going to fight at the wall and protect the people from whatever was waiting for him up there.

They were the only party walking north, crossing paths with all kinds of people, people going south running from war. Yoren had told Arya and the other recruits they had nothing to fear, they had no banner but the black cloak he wore, they were no lions nor wolves, the law protected their journey but Arya didn't feel safe, she was a wolf and she could hear them howl loud at night, a warning or maybe a battle cry.

They had been together when the guards arrived, the Bull had made Arya promise not to cry if he hurt her while practising, he had told her he was strong but she knew she was faster so she had made him promise too. It felt weird when Yoren and the other men took a stance in front of the white cloaks, they were protecting her, they were going to die for her. Arya bit her lip and tightened her grip on her sword, she could not let that happen. If Arya had been a real water dancer like Syrio, she would have fought all the guards, if Arya had been a wolf she wouldn't have been scared.

When Arry, sword in hand, went against the white cloaks Gendry cursed him in his mind, even if for some reason the guards had been after the young boy he owed nothing to the other recruits, Arry should have been more careful, Gendry should have been more careful too but instead, he followed the small boy and then the guards called his name. 

It had been different after Yoren had threatened the guards, they kept marching north, this time avoiding the Kingsroad, feeling like prey running from starved hounds, Yoren had told Arya to fear not the animals but only the men wearing beasts on their banners so they kept marching but with the whole world burning around them it was only a matter of time before it crumbled on them.

Gendry hated how everyone had felt like asking him questions as if he had any idea about why the queen of all people wanted him dead, he had done nothing wrong, he had nothing to hide. It felt odd, surrounded by thieves and killers and all sorts of criminals, being the one the guards had been looking for. Arry had thought they had been after him. Gendry's mind was full of thoughts as they searched for some sort of supplies in an abandoned village, the sunlight reflecting on the surface of the biggest lake he had ever seen. He didn’t really trust the other recruits, Yoren had said they were to be brothers but they had made no oath yet and the Wall was so far away, he had heard some of them, Kurz and CutJack and others, talking about leaving, about the others being dead weight, he agreed but he wasn’t sure he would have been able to survive on his own. He looked at Arry splashing some water on his head, he was useful enough and better than him at hunting, he seemed brave and smart even if he was small, maybe they could have made it together, protected each other on the road, he could learn to trust someone like Arry, even if he was sure he was hiding a secret.

Arya hated herself, if only she had been a real fighter she could have protected the other recruits, the little crying girl, Gendry, even Hot Pie and Lommy… She wished to be like Yoren, like Syrio had been, like her father but, instead, she was nothing, non even Arya anymore… She hadn’t been able to protect Mycah and Nymeria and her father… now she screamed “Winterfell”! as everything burned… the air in her lungs tasting of smoke and copper… her tears boiling on her cheeks as she kept fighting. Yoren told them to run, for a moment she had been scared Gendry would have stayed there like the stubborn bull he was, she did not want to leave him behind, she wasn’t going to leave anyone behind. 

After what had felt like a war, hell itself, death and then hunger while dragging around all the dead weights left, he had caught up pretty easily on Arry’s secret.  It didn’t change much for him, Arry, or whatever was her girl name, was still the only useful one, the only one that wasn’t crying about wolves or eating dirt, he wanted to tell her he knew, that her secret was safe with him, that he wasn’t going to hurt her or let anyone hurt her. Being the oldest he should have felt some kind of weight on him, an unspoken duty to protect Hot Pie, Lommy and his useless leg and little Weasel, a real man would have wanted to defend them... well, most men he had met up until that moment had tried to kill them or abandoned them… he should have cared about his companions but, honestly, he only cared about his own skin, his helm and maybe Arry.

The only thing Arya could feel more than fear was her hate, her anger… looking at Polliver with Needle at his hip, it almost hurt not having her blade at her side, its familiar weight, another part of her ripped away. She hated herself as she watched the people around her be tortured and killed, she wasn’t a wolf, she felt more like a sheep, a scared sheep marching toward the slaughterhouse. She hated having to look at Dunsen wearing Gendry’s helm, it had been his as Needle had been hers, what else could they take from them? Their lives didn’t seem enough. "Fear cuts deeper than swords" had said once Syrio and now Arya knew fear better than ever in her life, fear keeping her from talking back to the guards, fear to help the older girls, save them from the soldiers, fear to just die and never see her home again… and as they approached Harrenal a new fear: wondering if in those halls stained with blood and burned by fire something far worse was waiting for them.

Again my deepest fear is to wander astray from the prompts haahah, I tried to focus on Arya and Gendry's possessions as they were on the road up until when they lost them to the mountain's men...

Not my best work but I wanted to post this anyway, hope you liked it <3<3

[axelsagewrites]

Hi. Can I request Edmure x female Snow (Jon’s sister) where Edmure, reader, Jon etc learn her heritage and after dany’s mad queen thing is reader selected to be queen and Edmure her consort. Maybe smut too, either way more Edmure.

Edmure Tully*My Queen, My Love

Pairing: snow!f!reader x husband!edmure

A/N: I did change your request slightly since I just couldn’t think of how to write danny as the mad queen or how to get the plot going so now its edmures reaction to her heritage and danny naming her as her heir and them celebrating with some soft smut at the end so I hope you still like it!

Word count: 2705

Warnings: talks of death/red wedding, praise, ‘my queen’ honorific, f!receiving oral, fingering, slight teasing, thighs, soft smut 18+

Past

When Jon left for the wall, you thought you’d never see him again. When your sisters got taken as hostages in the red keep you thought they were as good as dead. When Winterfell was taken you thought your youngest brothers were gone for good. Everyone around you began to drop like flies and if not for Edmure you would have thrown yourself from Riverrun’s walls when you got the news of Robbs brutal murder and at a wedding no less.

Your stomach churned at the memory, and you wondered what your own fate would have been if Robb had not sent you and Edmure back to Riverrun to defend it from Lannister attacks. Sometimes you wondered if he knew, if somehow Robb felt the unease in the air of the twins. When you hugged Robb goodbye for the last time you clung on, but you did not know why you did or why your direwolf star was so reluctant to leave Greywind’s side. She, like ghost, was a pale white but unlike his red eyes hers were the palest of purples, so pale you wondered if they were clear in certain lights.

You were only halfway to Riverrun when you heard the news. You tried to back, hell bent of trying to avenge Robb with a sword, a wolf, and only three men but Edmure had to hold you back. He screamed at you in the forest ‘do you want to die? What of your sisters who will they have to save them when your dead at Walder Frey’s feet? Dying won’t bring him back.'

'My father is dead. My brothers are dead. The girls are as good as dead and only the gods know where Jon is, you screamed it back, face wet with tears and your voice tearing the air. I have no one.'

'You have me and you have star and the gods be good your sisters in time, but you won’t have anything if you run without thinking.'

His words swam about your heads for the weeks you spent traveling with Edmure and the two others Robb had sent with you. Your gold ran out quickly and there were no friends for you to find. That was until you came across the man with half his face scorched off. You’d found him in a heap at the bottom of a mountain and were shocked when you noticed his shallow breaths.

You didn’t know why you felt the need to stop your travels for a week to nurse him back to health, but you did and when he was not insulting you or trying to start fights his roughness started to slip. 'Did you see a girl dressed as a boy? Brown hair, face like a pinched arse, a tiny needle of a sword. Goes by Arry.' Arya. Your sister was alive. You had hope again.

Eventually the gods turned your fate. You may have lost the two guards Robb had sent with you in skirmishes, but you were left with Sandor and Edmure and eventually the brotherhood found you. With them came travels and with travels came Jon. Finally you had Jon back. Then Sansa too and with the hope Arya was out there you dared continue.

Meanwhile you had Edmure beside you the entire time. He backed all your decisions publicly and debated you in private but never to berate. He helped you heal the wounds you couldn’t reach and didn’t eat till he made sure you had your share. He was the rock securing your tie to reality.

You remember his reaction to meeting Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name. Its not her dragons we should fear. A woman who brings the Dothraki across the sea on the hope of a promise not given to her holds power. Her words hold power.

While Sansa was sceptical of her you felt yourself drawn to her. As time went on you began to view her as more of a friend than a foreign queen. You found yourself added to her small council. Despite Tyrion being her hand, it was you she turned to in her dilemma.

Then one day Jon barged into one of your chambers, insisting it could not wait a day longer. He forced Edmure to leave the chambers despite you insisting that the man who had become your husband could hear anything he had to say. 'Ned Stark was not our father sweet sister, but he was not a stranger either.' You felt the colour drain from your face as he spoke. 'Bran, he saw it, Lyanna Stark on her birthing bed. Twins in her arms. We had a mother sweet sister and a father too. Rhaegar Targaryen.'

Present

After he broke the news, you demanded he leave, not wanting him to speak another word till you could bare to tell Daenerys yourself. Then Edmure returned. As you told him everything Jon had revealed you felt your world spinning as Edmure sat silently taking it all in.

The feel of Edmures hands grabbing yours slowed your rant, your breathing steadying. “Breathe my love. It is going to be okay,”

“But what if its not?” You asked, a break in your voice.

You looked to the man that had kept you afloat during this war with wide eyes brimmed with tears. His hand gently moved to hold your face, “You are still you, my love. This does not need to change your world unless you choose it too. Your brother will back you; he always has. I am here for you love. We are safe, we will survive this,”

“What if she thinks us a threat?” You said, voice barely above a whisper, “Rober Baratheon would’ve murdered them in their cribs if he had got there in time to swing his hammer. What will she do to me?”

“She has shown you no signs of tyranny, no signs of madness. If you lie to her, scheme against her, she will know but even if ned Stark was not your father you still have his honour,” Edmure said, leaning to kiss your forward softly, “and you have me. I may not breath fire, but I would fight any dragon for you,”

You watched as Daenerys face turned as Jon told her the truth with you by his side. “If it were true, you would be the last living male Targaryen. Are you here to threaten my claim?” She asked, her face twisting into betrayal.

“No,” you said, finally speaking up in the silence, “Jon has no interest in the iron throne, do you brother?” You said, scared when he paused for a moment before agreeing with you.

Daenerys turned away, pacing to the fire in silence, “Leave us,” she said, her head raising to face Jon, “and do not speak a word of this to anyone. Swear it,”

“I swear it your grace,” Jon said, nodding his head solemnly before leaving.

As the door shut Daenerys finally turned to look at you, “I assume Edmure knows,” she said dryly, “Who else?”

“No one your grace,” you said, crossing the room to try come to her side but she backed away, “No one needs know if you don’t want them too. But you cannot deny you need a family,”

“I have my dragons,” she said, almost spitting the words before looking into the flames, “A woman told me once they would be my only children,” she said with a softer tone.

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," you whispered back, having heard her tales of her first marriage many nights.

“When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves,” she said, her eyes not leaving the flickering flames, “I believe I will see my child when I die. The son a witch stole from me. The family I was told to dream about having as a child, gone. What is a queen with no heirs?” She said, finally looking from the flames. “If I was to name Jon my heir people would cross their fingers for the day I died. Your land has never cared much for their queens,”

You paused for a moment, thinking back to the talks you had with Edmure the night before. “There is another way your grace,” you said, moving over to sit in the armchair by the fire, Daenerys moving to the other, “The northerns have never liked to bend their knee to the south but what if you didn’t make them? Allow Jon to be king of the north, recognise Robbs kingship and his will naming Jon as his heir. No southern lord is going to fight for a bastard to sit the iron throne,”

Daenerys sat back in her chair, thinking over your words carefully, “And what of you? You would stay in the north to take the throne after him?”

You shook your head lightly, “No your grace. He may be my brother, but you are my queen. I will follow you south, fight your battles and die for you, if need be, serve however required,”

Daenerys paused, chuckling slightly under her breath, “Even as my heir?” She said, her eyes hard to read.

“Unless you have children,” you said but Daenerys just laughed and stood again.

“No. My dragons are my children. One of them is already dead. My womb has been cursed and the child bed is more dangerous than any battle ahead. Now I will not have children. But I will have an heir. An heir who will act as a delegate to the newly independent north. You,” she said, finally turning back to see you, “You shall be my heir and you shall rule when I am gone. Not your husband, not Jon. You,”

The feast announcing Daenerys decision was one of the last moments of joy for many before the long night. You sat at the head table, Daenerys on one side and Edmure on the other. He held your hand under the table, his thumb stroking over your hand. Jon sat on the other side of Daenerys; a shoddy silver crown placed on his head unlike the one Daenerys wore made of gold.

After the festivities you walked back to your chamber, slightly lightheaded from the wine but with Edmures arm wrapped around yours to steady yourself. “One day you will be a queen,” he hummed, smiling down at you, “The title suits me,”

“Hopefully not for a long time,” you said, kissing his cheek as you stumbled to your chambers, “Excited about your future promotion?” You joked with a drunken grin.

He shook his head with a chuckle, “the title is yours not mine. I will not rule for you love for you will be my queen. Though I hope you will at least allow me on your council when the time comes,” he said as you turned into the corridor your chamber lay in.

“Of course,” you said, hugging his arm tighter, “You have always been my hand. Without you I am nothing,”

“No, my love,” he said as he unlatched the chamber door, “You are everything and more,” he said, kissing your lips softly in the chamber doorway. “Give me a moment to light the fire,”

As Edmure stoked the flames you began to slip out of your northern clothes, leaving them in a pile at the side of the bed and leaving only your shift on for coverage. You sat on the foot of the bed, watching as Edmure finally had the fire burning bright before he took his own outdoor clothing off.

“You look divine my love,” he said as he sat his neatly folded tunic on the armchair by the fire.  You held your hand out to him across the room, silently beckoning him over. Edmure did as you asked wordlessly, gently taking your hand and moving to stand between your legs. He bent down, pressing a slow soft kiss to your lips. Your hands rested on his shoulders, his cupping your jaw lightly before he stood up straight again, “It is time for rest my love,” he said, moving back to kick off his boots.

You shook your softly at him, a smile toying your lips, “We are celebrating tonight remember?” You said, standing so you could wrap your arms around his waist to pull him closer. His body, left with only his trousers, pressed flush against yours leaving no gaps between your skin. “Wont you celebrate with me, husband?” You asked, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I suppose some celebrating could be in order,” Edmure said with a light chuckle. He lifted your chin with his fingers, his head dipping to reconnect your lips. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer somehow. You were breathless as Edmure walked you back till the backs of your thighs hit the bed frame. “Lay down my queen,” he said, panting as he pulled away from your lips.

“I am not queen yet,” you said, the wine making the idea more funny than terrifying. None the less you moved to lay on the bed, letting your shift bunch up to reveal more of your thighs.

Edmures eyes scanned your thighs, soaking in your frame. You couldn’t help but notice the outline in his trousers by this point but you did not protest as he began to crawl up the bed to you, kissing your calf then knee and up to your thighs, “Let me serve you my queen,” he said as he placed a kiss to your inner thigh, “You have always been my queen,”

Your breathing was ragged as you felt him kiss up your inner thighs, his breath fanning over your skin making it tingle. Your fingers ran over his hair, toying with it softly, “Serve me husband,” you said, aching for his mouth which was less than an inch from where you wanted it to be, “Serve your queen,” you inhaled sharply when you felt him place a soft kiss to your wet cunt, his lips moving up to place another wet kiss to your clit. Your fingers tugged his hair gently as he began to lick soft stripes up your cunt, his pressure increasing with each lick to tease the feeling. While you were usually the one doing the teasing Edmure wanted to make sure this was truly a celebration for you tonight as his tongue worked its wonders while his hands softly squeezed your thighs.

His mouth moved up, his focus turning to gently sucking your clit as curse words slipped from under your breath. His hand slipped from your thigh, slowly grazing over your skin till his fingers began to tease your hole. You moaned lightly when you felt his fingers slowly slipping in as he had practised many times with you over the years. You could feel your thighs tighten around his head and how he moaned sending vibrations through your wet cunt.

You could feel your body tightening, a knot forming in your stomach as Edmure began to hit your sweet spot, his fingers curling gently to hit closer with each move. “Yes,” you gasped, your fingers suddenly tightening in his hair, “Like that,” you said, your voice caught as your body tightened.

Edmure did exactly as he was told as he felt your thighs begin to twitch. Your body felt close to bursting till your orgasm spilled over you, your legs clamping around his head as your body tensed up, toes curling. Edmure did not attempt to remove his tongue or mouth as he let you ride out your wave, only moving when he felt your legs begin to release his head.

He came up for air, his face slick and an adoring smile on his face, “You truly are amazing,” he murmured, kissing your thigh before moving up to lay beside you.

You turned, trying to reach for his trousers to return the favour but Edmure caught your wrist, raising your hand up to his lips to kiss, “Not yet love. Catch your breath my queen,”

You laughed lightly at his words, “Are you always going to call me that?” You asked.

“Yes, for it will always be true,”

Taglist @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics

[jellyfishcandyy]

What does it mean that Sansa is the only stark kid without a wolf?

We know that all the stark kids have a deeper connection to their wolves- not just as in they can wrag into their direwolves and have wolf dreams, but also to their character writing and development.

Jon's wolf was found away from the litter (Ned suggested it was "driven away"), it even looked different to its brothers; while the others had grey fur, ghost was albino with white fur. This can symbolise Jon's feelings of exclusion from the starks, and his decision to go 'away' to The Wall. Ghost also had a similar temperament to Jon. Jon does not voice a lot, he keeps his cards close and he feels a need to constantly suppress his feelings and desires. Ghost is also unusually quite compared to the other direwolves.

Arya is forced to leave her wolf which is then lost and left wandering to fend for itself, and this is similar to what Arya later on goes through herself. She is forced to wander around (from making her way to the wall with Yoren, to Harrenhall, to The Riverlands etc.) and fend for herself. Also, "Arya Stark" is lost. Instead there is Arry, Nan, Squab, Blind Beth, etc. (My theory is that once she can finally reach a point where she can be Arya Stark confidently again, she will also find Nymeria.)

Bran cannot move or do things he used to do, but he constantly wrags into his wolf 'to be free again' and go places. Even when he doesn't wrag into his wolf, his feelings still reflect on Summer. For example, when he gets angry and frustrated, summer starts growling, his hackles rise and he threatens to pounce.

A similar thing happens with Rickon and Robb. When Rickon gets upset or throws tantrums, his wolf starts to act up as well. When Rickon was distraught about Robb leaving, Shaggydog grew so unruly, they had to lock him up.

Both Robb and Rickon don't get their own POV chapters so seeing their emotions plainly on their wolves can be helpful, especially with Robb because he feels that as a Lord, and later on King, he needs to hold his cards close which makes it difficult to discern what he is thinking or feeling aside from the clues his wolf give the reader. When Robb gets restless or anxious, his wolf paces around and bolts away, when Robb gets angry or scared his wolf gets ready to attack.

All the Stark kids and their connection to their wolves have something to say or show. So, what does it mean that Sansa's Lady is dead and she is the only Stark without a wolf?

[jozor-johai]

some thoughts on identity as a motif in asoiaf. feel free to add on!

mostly just thinking about this because of how anything in asoiaf gains meaning from continued repetition, so it's interesting to keep track of these things, and see how different approaches to the same idea give more depth to the meaning.

Sometimes, these ideas are so similar that people create theories to argue that they are literally the same character. I think most "secret identity" theories are often misinterpretations of thematic parallels; yes, these characters have a lot in common thematically, but it does not need to be the case that they are literally the same character.

However, I recognize that playing with identity is its own motif in ASOIAF, so some thoughts:

Jon Snow's false identity; Young Griff's false identity, along with his whole party: Griff, the mysterious Septa Lemore, Duck, etc. Quentyn Martell (also a prince!) and his assumed identity, also in Essos, along with his entire party posing as sellswords. Barristan Selmy posing as Arstan Whitebeard. Alleras / Sarella. Asha pretending to be Esgred. Mance being glamoured as Rattleshirt, and later Mance as Abel. Varys as Rugen, and his other disguises. Ramsay Snow posing as Reek, and later Theon being forced to become Reek by Ramsay. And Theon-as-Reek "pretending" to be Theon again.

Which brings me to the chapter titles: identity is such a strong motif that it is also communicated in a structural way through the chapter titles, which begin to describe the characters rather than name them, or else take on the assumed name of the POV character.

Theon becomes Reek and the chapters reflect that. As he escapes the notion of Reek, the chapter titles reflect his changing identity. Sansa loses her identity, becoming Alayne, which is reflected in the chapter titles. Victarion goes in the opposite direction; he is the Iron Captain, the Reaver, and the Iron Suitor before his last chapter title becomes Victarion. Arya's identity changes as early as the second book, becoming Arry aka Lumpyhead, then Weasel, then Nan, then Squab, then Salty. Then she joins the Faceless Men, who heavily question the notion of identity, and cause Arya to question her notions of identity as a major plot device. Arya's chapter titles become Cat of the Canals, the Blind Girl, the Ugly Little Girl. We also get insight into other character's sense of identity, as well, even if they never get a chapter of their own name.

Plenty more to be said about the chapter titles, I'm sure, but Arya brings us to the Faceless Men, and Jaqen -> the Alchemist -> Pate, as far as we know.

On the topic of "anonymous organizations", there's the mystery of the identity of the Harpy, and the issue with the anonymity of the Sons of the Harpy, as well as, arguably, the equal issue with the anonymity of the Brazen Beasts (as the Shavepate is able to infiltrate his personal men into their ranks secretly).

Some identities that fundamentally change with death: Catelyn becoming Lady Stoneheart, and "Robert Strong", assuming he was the Mountain originally.

Beric feels like he's losing his sense of self with each time he dies, which is interesting because as that happens more and more of the Brotherhood Without Banners pretend to be Beric—he loses himself at the same rate his person becomes a symbol instead of a man. Also fitting for the Brotherhood Without Banners—no banners means without an identity in the way that most of Westeros conceives of it.

Because one's banners are their identity. Lannisters are "Lions" and Starks become "wolves" and there is a need to distinguish between wolves on two legs and wolves on four. The Tyrells are "roses" complete with thorns. "Dragons" refers to Targaryens just as often as it refers to actual dragons if not more. Obviously this continues ad infinitum.

And insofar as House names are identity, there is the voluntary renunciation of identity when becoming a Maester and losing one's last name, or taking the Black and forsaking one's familial ties, or to a lesser extent joining the Kingsguard and renouncing one's claim to lands. All of these are a loss of identity; one might argue that exile is a forced loss of identity in the same vein.

Which makes the Golden Company especially interesting, because they claim Westerosi names but without any real need to back them up with lineage.

And there are other voluntarily assumed identities that are not necessarily meant to be disguise, just self-chosen names. Bards often are specified as taking on stage names of a sort, like Rymund the Rhymer, Symon Silvertongue, and Tom Sevenstrings aka Tom of Sevenstreams aka Tom o'Sevens. Lem Lemoncloak. Cersei is especially bothered by the idea that the "Blue Bard" is really just a smallfolk man named Wat.

The "High Sparrow" might be more like a stage name, more important as the symbol of an identity than as a person. "The Hound" is also like a stage name, and the mystery of the Hound raiding Saltpans shows how the identity of the Hound can be separated from Sandor Clegane himself. Interesting that Lem, who already has a sort of second identity, will don the Hound over that in WINDS.

There is the mystery of identity even when assumed names are not into play, as with the Kettleblacks; they mystery of who they are and where they come from is important even without fake names (as far as we know).

Then there is the identity as reflected in prophecy. Melisandre sees a girl who she thinks is Jon's sister but then Alys Karstark appears. Melisandre sees Renly attacking Stannis' host at the Blackwater who turns out to be Loras in Renly's armor. Arguably, this applies to the symbol-identities we get: we understand that someone "is" the Mummer's Dragon, we understand that someone is the "giant" that Sansa will slay.

The "Three Eyed Crow" might be part of this category, and the idea of an assumed "dream identity". Maybe the weirwoods and warging are more identity-issues; Varamyr talks about how wargs take on the animal characteristics—so warging itself is about identity, too.

Which is then doubly potent with Hodor, who is a whole person that Bran is stealing the identity of.

There are tons and tons more but this is just a collection of thoughts on the idea.

[mags-writes]

Part 2: Frozen Pines - Gendrya

Summary: Gendry isn't dead?

Warnings: Canon-level violence, canon-level angst, canon-level swearing

Pairing: Gendry Waters/Baratheon x Arya Stark

Length: 2.9k words

Masterlist || The Night We Met || Frozen Pines || Meet Me In The Woods || Love Like Ghosts

I wake up in the morning, oh and I don't know where I've been all alone on a mountainside and huddled in the wind

Daenerys Targaryen was a striking beauty. Bold purple eyes shimmering like the sharpest cut gemstones and silvery hair that seemed to glow like fresh snow. She had seen the hair in Bravos on the heads of what was left of old Valyria in Essos and the eyes were just as common but both in Daenerys before her in the dark walled castle of Winterfell was almost hard to look at. She blazed like a fire in the darkness of the room but there was no warmth. A Queen was standing before them, the blood of old Valyria at its full strength with some of the smartest and most loyal minds advising her. Anyone in the world would be lying to themselves if they said they weren't intimidated by her presence so Arya didn't bother. That Northern pride in her -the Stark in her, the wolf in her- wouldn't give itself up so easily but Arya forced herself to at least smile at the Queen while Sansa got on with business.

"Arya has been fortifying the castle, training the guards herself even, and making sure we have the utmost security throughout the entire castle and its grounds." Sansa reported proudly to the council before her. "Thanks to her there will be no chance of any assassination attempts on any of us no matter how talented they think they are."

"Cersei swore to our cause. We shouldn't assume she would go back on her word." Came from Jon.

"The day I trust that golden-haired bitch again is the day my corpse has entered the final stages of decay in the crypts." Sansa didn't even bother looking at Jon when she spoke the words and Arya tried and failed to suppress a smile at the slight shock from the Queen's side of the council.

"Lady Arya's efforts are appreciated in these uncertain times." Daenerys lets out in an attempt to break the tension and gives Arya a politician's smile.

"If it pleases you, your grace, just Arya will do." Arya bows her head in respect with her own slight smile. "I've never been able to be a lady. My father said I'm much too alike to my aunt."

The comment at the end to anyone else would seem harmless coming from Arya but it made Daenerys flinch slightly. Arya's pride was satisfied.

The meeting proceeded with a few disagreements here and there. But then came the dragonglass. They had more than enough to equip their whole army but whether or not they could make it fast enough was a topic that was causing them all to worry. Arya knew of one smithy that could do it all with no problem and could make it beautiful while he was at it, but that wasn't the case.

"Can you guarantee that every soldier will have the weapons they need by the time the army of the dead get here?" The spider, Varys, asks in his usual slow and accusatory tone.

"Gendry has assured me that he can get it done with the help that he has." Jon answered. It made Arya frown and tilt her head at him, her heart skipping in her chest at the name. "Especially with the added talents of the Dothraki and Unsullied." There was a knock at the door and Jon moved from his position. "That should be him now with an update."

Arya's eyes widened and she caught Sansa's curious gaze. She didn't have any time to give her an explanation because the door was open and Jon was greeting the man. Arya's heart didn't skip this time, it damn near stopped dead.

"Gendry, you have good news?" Jon asked.

"Aye, your grace, I-" Gendry froze when Jon moved to his side to walk him further into the room.

Arya had stopped breathing. "Gendry?" She choked out.

"Arry?" He gets out before Arya launches herself at him at full speed.

He grunts when she makes contact but picks her up and holds her tight. Arya feels like she's seeing stars, like she's in the clouds, like she was immortal, deathless, and flying all at once. He smelled like a Northern wind, like steel, and sweat and soot, like he had been working. There was even a hint of horse in there making her smile even more.

"You-you were dead," She spoke into his shoulder before pulling back and beaming as bright as the sun up at him. "You were gone, you... You cut your hair?"

They giggled, their eyes crinkling at the edges their smiles were so wide.

"You thought I was dead? Arry, no one has heard from you in years." They were holding each other's hands, grasping tightly as if they were going to disappear again.

"No one has heard from me since before we left Kingslanding. What makes you think that was going to change?"

The sound of Jon clearing his throat made them look away from each other, Gendry loosened his grip on her hands slightly so Arya reluctantly let him go but stayed close in his space.

"Do you need some water, my lord?" She asked with a purposely snarky tone.

"How do you two know each other?" Jon asks, an accusatory glare directed at Gendry.

"When father was executed, Yorren found me, cut my hair to look like a boy, and put me in the group of what was supposed to be recruits for the Night's Watch." She looked back to Gendry, who was dutifully not making eye contact with Jon or anyone else in the room but her. "Gendry stood up for me. He protected me before I told him I was a girl and every moment after."

"I was only doing the right thing, your grace." Gendry deflected making Arya violently roll her eyes.

"Yes, yes, and the right thing to do just happened to be the noble thing to do." She lightly hits his chest with the back of her hand. "Seven hells, Bull, take the compliment."

"Bull?" Asked Sansa, she had a small smile, like she found this whole interaction amusing.

"He's a stubborn ass that charges headfirst into a fight." Arya answers easily.

Gendry sighed, giving Arya an unimpressed look.

"I had a helmet in the shape of a bull's head that I made myself." He gave her a pointed look that had her lightly shrugging. "That's why she calls me that."

"And because you're stubborn." She insisted lightly, bantering like they used to. "You can't fight me on that."

He went to argue before stopping himself and facing the others. "No, m'lady, I can't."

Arya's face dropped completely, making Sansa let out the slightest of chuckles.

"Don't call me that." Arya felt the blood rush to her face like she was a child again, facing the others as well.

"As you wish, m'lady." Stubborn ass. Gendry takes a peak at her and they both have to stop the wide smiles spreading on their face.

"Don't you have smithy things to talk about?" She shook her head, now pretending to try and ignore him by going back to the table they were all standing around with maps.

The conversation flowed from there, Gendry assuring that with all the new help, despite the language barrier with some of them, he'd get everything done on time for the estimated date of the war. Obviously, they didn't have an exact date for when they would be attacked. Bran was keeping a watchful eye on the movements but he couldn't keep it up all the time. Jon explained that Bran was a Warg, a person with the ability to enter the minds of animals, see through their eyes, and control their movements. Bran told him that he's also this Three Eyed Raven but it took a toll. Not only can Bran take control of animals at a great distance to keep an eye on the white walker's movements but he also has the ability to sift through all the events throughout time.

Arya spent time with men who carved faces from people and magically altered their very being to fit that face. They altered their entire psyche around being an empty vessel to be filled and trained their bodies to be the ultimate weapon. Bran being a Warg was not unbelievable.

Arya was carrying and balancing two plates of food on one arm and holding a cup of mead in the other. She walked into the main forge where Jon had told her Gendry was working and was greeted with the warmth of the fire. There stood the very man, sleeves rolled up, covered in soot, and sweating up a storm. Arya swallowed hard at the sight, a sight she hadn't seen for years and she wasn't complaining about it.

Gendry looked up from a dragonglass axe he was inspecting, surprise filling him at her standing there before him. He still couldn't believe she was so near him, just a few floors up behind stone, safe and sound in the castle she was born and raised in.

"What are you doing here?" He calls out.

Arya blinks and walks further in, putting everything down.

"You missed dinner." She turned to grab a chair and sat down. "C'mon. You can't work on an empty stomach. No matter how much practice you have."

Gendry chuckles, pulling over a chair as well and taking a seat next to her.

"So," He takes a bite from the food, settling her with a look. "Where did you run off to?"

"When?" She smiles.

"After I was getting carted off by the Red Witch."

Arya hums, chewing her food before swallowing a gulp of mead and handing it to him to do the same.

"Ran off into the woods, got picked up by The Hound, he tried bargaining me off to my family -which did not work." She tried to joke lightly, hoping he wouldn't ask but of course, he couldn't help himself. He gave her a confused look and she sighed. "We got to the twins the night of the Red Wedding and then the day we got to the Eyrie my aunt had died that morning."

Gendry couldn't help the laugh that tumbled from his mouth, catching himself quickly and his eyes widening. Arya couldn't help but also laugh, easing him into more laughter at the luck she had back then.

"After that, Brienne and her little fellow found us on a mountain. She fought and won against The Hound and I left him there to die. After that, I went to the coast, got on a boat, and went to Bravos."

"Hound's not dead." He said in between a burp.

"What?" There was no way he survived what Brienne did to him.

"Hound's not dead." He repeated. "He's here. He went north with us. Beyond The Wall and all that."

Arya had stopped moving, looking at him with wide eyes for a long few seconds and Gendry would've laughed if there wasn't just a hint of worry in her eyes.

"Well," She finally broke, looking down to pick up some more food. "That's going to be interesting."

Gendry hummed in agreement, watching her closely. "What'd you end up doing in Bravos?"

Arya shook her head, getting rid of the thoughts in her mind before looking at him again. In a way, she still couldn't believe that he was alive, here in front of her, and in fucking Winterfell of all places. She wondered for a moment if this meant the nightmares would stop or if they'd get worse.

"I went to the House of Black and White and demanded Jaqen H'ghar come out and let me in." They both laughed because of course that's something she would do.

"Oh, yeah?" Gendry laughed again, shaking his head and taking another sip of the mead. "And how did good old Jaqen take that?"

"He eventually let me in. Taught me his ways." Arya's smile deflated just a little, wondering how different her life would be right now if she hadn't fallen into that cult.

"He taught you to change faces?" Gendry wasn't mocking her this time like he did when they were younger. She supposed seeing firsthand the army of the dead would do that to someone's beliefs.

"It's this whole religion for the Many Faced God. They beat your old life out of you to be this empty vessel so you're not just changing faces, you're becoming the face you put on." Arya explained, feeling like a weight was slowly being lifted off of her shoulders with every word she spoke. "They make you go through all these trials and they test your will with people from your past. I once snuck out with a face to kill Meryn Trant and they punished me by taking my vision and chucking me out to the streets to be a beggar."

"Seven hells," Gendry mumbled, he was shocked and concerned, and he put a hand over hers. "How in the blazes did you get out of that?"

Arya smiled sadly at him, putting her other hand over his in comfort. "Like I said, they beat the old life out of you to be no one. But I got my vision back and it took me a while to get the hell out of there but I did, I got out." Gendry squeezed her hand, looking into her eyes for a long pause before looking away. Arya cleared her throat. "What about you? What happened when the Red Witch took you away?"

Gendry made an expression like he didn't think she was going to believe him like he hardly believed what happened to him as well.

"Yeah, she uh... She took me to Stannis Baratheon on Dragonstone and..." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "She used my blood for a spell."

Arya frowned, not because she didn't believe him but because it was him.

"Why your blood?" She asked, and Gendry looked like he was gearing up to drop some news on her.

"I'm... I'm Robert Baratheon's bastard."

Arya goes completely still. "What?"

"Yeah." He breathes out, shaking his head like he still can't believe it.

"That... that makes so much sense." She sits back heavily in her seat, connecting all the dots in her mind. "That's why the gold cloaks were after you."

"It's why your father came and saw me in the forge that day, and why The Lord Hand before him did as well." Gendry took a much-needed gulp from the mead this time. "Your brother knows."

"Jon?" Arya frowns harshly. "How the hell does Jon know?"

"I told him."

"You fucking idiot."

"Oi, our fathers trusted each other -we trust each other. All I've heard about Jon is how honourable he is." Gendry defended. "You can't tell anyone else."

"Gods forbid this gets back to Daenerys, you know, the one who was chased off of Dragonstone the day she was born and raised in exile because your father tried killing her every chance he got." Arya took hold of his hand again, biting her lip in worry making Gendry lean forward and bump his forehead with hers lightly.

"I know how dangerous this is."

For a moment Arya let herself believe he was talking about something else entirely, like he wasn't talking about his life hanging in the balance and by extension, hers. Because there wasn't a world where Arya let Gendry slip through her fingers again, no world where his life was going to be threatened by anything living. Arya felt like she could take on one of those dragons if need be.

No, Arya fantasised for a moment that he felt the same way about her, that they were never separated all those years ago. Maybe they would've become outlaws, riding through the Riverlands, avenging the Red Wedding one day at a time. They would ride together, and grow closer, their bond unbreakable.

A clinging sound from one of the other forges broke them apart with a jump, both of them rosey in the cheeks and avoiding eye contact.

"So... You were with Stannis for a bit then? On Dragonstone?" Arya continued, as if nothing had happened, because nothing had happened.

"Aye," Gendry replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ser Davos got me out before they could execute me. At a great personal cost to himself, I'll add. He put me in a row boat and I went off to Kingslanding. Been there ever since, of course until Ser Davos came and got me again."

"You've been in Kingslanding this whole time?" Arya gawked at him, taken completely by surprise. "Are you a fucking moron?"

"I was hiding right under their nose!" He argued back. "I didn't get caught."

Arya put her head in her hands, sighing to herself.

"I can't believe you." She mumbled to herself before looking back up at him with a frown. "Did you say you were in a row boat?"

"Yeah?" Gendry shrugged.

"Gendry." Arya stared at him, an unbelievable expression on her face. "You can't swim."

"You're telling me!" Gendry shook his head in agreeance with her. "I was shitting myself."

They looked at each other for a long moment before bursting out laughing again.

and it feels like I've been away for an era but nothing has changed at all and it feels like I've been with you but, oh, what did you do and where have you gone?

[cinesludge]

Movie #16 of 2024: Dune Part Two

Stunning. The sand broomers deserve an award.

[martellspear]

oberyn is better than me bc if someone did to my sister what rhaegar did to elia in harrenhal....... he would be getting jon arryed🤗

[dyannawynnedayne]

Which character parallel do you like the best?

Gendry and Jon: art by @laurellerual (1, 2)

Propaganda is encouraged!

Gendry and Jon

Helping people with bullies

"Look at him, Halder," Jon urged, ignoring Thorne as best he could. "There's no honor in beating a fallen foe. He yielded." He knelt beside the fat boy. Halder lowered his sword. "He yielded," he echoed. Ser Alliser's onyx eyes were fixed on Jon Snow. "It would seem our Bastard is in love," he said as Jon helped the fat boy to his feet. "Show me your steel, Lord Snow." Jon drew his longsword. He dared defy Ser Alliser only to a point, and he feared he was well beyond it now. Thorne smiled. "The Bastard wishes to defend his lady love, so we shall make an exercise of it. Rat, Pimple, help our Stone Head here." Rast and Albett moved to join Halder. "Three of you ought to be sufficient to make Lady Piggy squeal. All you need do is get past the Bastard."

AGOT, Jon IV

"Leave him be," said the boy with the shaggy black hair who rode behind them. Lommy had named him the Bull, on account of this horned helm he had that he polished all the time but never wore. Lommy didn't dare mock the Bull. He was older, and big for his age, with a broad chest and strong-looking arms. "You better give Hot Pie the sword, Arry," Lommy said. "Hot Pie wants it bad. He kicked a boy to death. He'll do the same to you, I bet." [...] The Bull shouted, “Behind you,” and Arya spun. Hot Pie was on his knees, his fist closing around a big jagged rock. She let him throw it, ducking her head as it sailed past. Then she flew at him.

ACOK, Arya I

Thank you, anon, for these parallel suggestions!!!

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Refused the Handship by their brother

“When the king named Lord Bloodraven his Hand, your lord father refused to be part of his council and departed King’s Landing for his own seat,” he reminded Egg. “He has been at Summerhall for a year, and half of another. What do you call that, if not sulking?” “I call it being wroth,” Egg declared loftily. “His Grace should have made my father Hand. He’s his brother, and the finest battle commander in the realm since Uncle Baelor died.

The Sworn Sword

“I sat on his council for fifteen years, helping Jon Arryn rule his realm while Robert drank and whored, but when Jon died, did my brother name me his Hand? No, he went galloping off to his dear friend Ned Stark, and offered him the honor."

ACOK, Prologue

Parallels pulled from this post.