#Olyvar sand

[direwolfrules]

The Weirwood Queen Memes, Part X: Because I feel like using Roman numerals today

Link to master post

As always, spoilers for The Weirwood Queen series by @redwolf17. Y’all should check it out. Seriously, you should. Please, I made 10 meme posts for this fic, if that’s not a ringing endorsement I don’t know what is.

[redwolf17]

The Weirwood Queen, Art Gallery 4

All art by the spectacular @ohnoitsmyra

Olyvar Sand, 300 AC

Gilly, 300 AC

Daenerys Targaryen, 300 AC

Irri, 303 AC

Sister Edythe, 303 AC

Paul the Pious, High Septon of Harrenhal, 303 AC (regalia)

Paul the Pious, High Septon of Harrenhal, 303 AC (usual garb)

The Embrace (Olyvar Sand and Sansa Stark), 304 AC

[mummer]

would you mind sharing some of your twow predictions/hopes? i'm trying to cope with a lack of twow 🤒

oh man where would i even begin. im gonna do straight up hard predictions and not allow myself to be very self indulgent here is what i think will happen unironically

melisandre does not intentionally resurrect jon bc that makes no sense for her character. i dont think she'll be the one to do it at all but if she does it will be an accident and also a brain shattering experience for her

jon is considered king beyond the wall (not king in the north.... yet) but you already knew that

jon spends more time beyond the wall actually. i am keeping this concept vague

night lamp is definitely real and stannis takes winterfell at some point but he wont survive the book

sam's oldtown chapters become unexpected fandom sleeper faves like theon's in dance

the rosby heir is olyvar frey

dany does not come to westeros before her final chapter and never even encounters jon. slave revolt in volantis yayyyyyy!!!!!

there is still no R+L=J reveal

loras ends up fine but drastically scarred

elia sand and aegon have a forbidden romance

pyp and grenn die offpage (i predict this so that i can be pleasantly surprised when they show up)

danny flint is revealed to be coldhands shut up actually

gerris drinkwater is surprisingly important to the plot

brienne and jaime both survive the encounter with LSH and survive the whole book i saw this in my mind

barristan either dies really early on or he eventually defects to join aegon because he thinks he's the more rightful heir. the ol treason for blood

the faceless men turn out to just be another branch of the iron bank who are doing assassinations for money more than obscure religious/political reasons. this blackpills arya enough for her to return home

sansa encounters jeyne again and this is what provokes her to move against littlefinger

theon...... joins the night's watch..... question mark

there's a gay sex scene but no one likes it

[atopvisenyashill]

thinking about this aegon tries to marry badly to avoid the dance au

he marries ynys sand, base born daughter of prince olyvar nymeros martell and lady gwenys wyl. raised by her mother in wyl. ynys is a warrior, she reveres wylla of wyl, and she’s a few years older than aegon (which he feels is the perfect touch to her unsuitableness).

qoren is Not In On It but he knows about it. this is an even more detached version of the vulture king’s war and he makes it clear that if they get caught doing something shady He Will Not Help.

helaena is in on this plan the entire time, and they figure it’s likely she and aemond are going to be married to each other immediately after they pull this goofy ass stunt, but aegon figures they’re better suited, and plus he has helaena to help him manage aemond’s temper.

i was trying to think of how he’d realistically get away from home long enough to get hitched, and i know he has a dragon, but that’s not exactly subtle is it, so i would think he needs a Kingsguard on his side so he can be like “oh yeah i’m going flying, he’s gonna meet me at this castle” and then just lie about what castle they’re heading to. this is how arryk cargyll becomes aegon’s personal guard & develops several ulcers.

viserys is initially PISSED because he’s having flashbacks to daemon running off with mysaria, rhaenyra is PERPLEXED by this move, otto insists helaena and aemond are married to each other immediately to curb any ~rebelliousness~ and no one can get Aegon out of the marriage because ynys has a letter signed by all the dornish marcher lords and qoren that they witnessed the bedding and arryk says they shared a bed on the road too. viserys is two seconds away from pulling another "i'm going to put a heavily pregnant woman on a ship to see if she miscarries and then start getting banishment happy" but Rhaenyra and Daemon convince him this is a good thing because it'll distract from The Rhaenyra Had Brown Haired Babies Of It All

aegon's first child by ynys HAS to be valyrian looking just to keep everyone on their toes. to make sure he's being INCREDIBLY unfit for the throne, aegon tells ynys she can name the kids whatever she wants - the less valyrian sounding the name, the better. so their first child has their father's silver hair and purple eyes, but their mother's slightly darker skin tone, and is named nymeria/nymeros targaryen.

POINT ONE: “acceptable bastards” have noble blood on both sides and i don’t think aegon could marry lower than that without otto being able to press her into the faith or just like, off her if it comes to it, before anyone can hear about the marriage. and anyone lower than that might not have the resources to defend themselves from behavior like that, and she would need to.

i remembered wylla of wyl being a warrior maid, and i thought it would be nice if she revered wylla, so one of her parents could from wyl, which works with the dornish marches background perfectly. i went through a couple scenarios and looked at some other noble born bastards that rise high and most of them had at least one parent from a great house, so that means one parent is a martell. i thought it would be simplest if she just grew up in wyl.

POINT TWO: that also puts some distance between her and qoren, and since qoren explicitly doesn’t want to get involved with dragon nonsense, i think there needs to be some distance between them for him to go “fine go marry a targaryen but keep whatever this is confined and lowkey because i will not back you up in public.”

also, since i put all that work into my dornish timeline, i just worked something out from there! qoren is around rhaenyra’s age, so not old enough to have a bastard old enough for aegon to marry. that means ynys sand has to be his half sister. i decided gwenys was a widow who never had any kids, had a hot and heavy affair with the married olyvar nymeros martell, and they decided she should just keep the baby at wyl. (she got remarried when ynys was around 4 and had a true born girl a year after, and they’re close they’re just like, Different. ynys got all of gwenys’ go get ‘em attitude).

POINT THREE: helaena being a dreamer is too precious to me, i think it’s great and hilarious if viserys was a dreamer and then had not one but TWO kids who were also dreamers but never noticed because he ignored them so much. i desire that shitty dad carnally. anyways. i think it’s logical to assume that if aegon pulls a stunt like this, everyone is going to start insisting helaena and aemond are married right now so that a) neither of them can also do some crazy shit like this and b) they can start having proper valyrian babies to counteract Aegon trying to plug up the family tree. I’m not saying anyone is factoring Aegon out of the family tree but I do think some people are going to go “well let’s get some back ups in motion in case Aegon decides to get crazy again.” I think Helaena would be fine with this idea; she has grown up probably assuming she was going to marry a brother anyway and they’re only a year apart.

(i came up with an excuse to age them up closer to show ages that i thought could be semi plausible which is just aegon trying to put off getting married by asking if they can wait until helaena comes of age, and since helaena thinks this is fine, and aegon pulls the “well rhaenyra got to wait” card, viserys just shrugs and agrees while alicent is sitting there like “is something happening right now. are my children conspiring.” so in my mind by the time they enact this plan, aegon is around 19, helaena is around 16, and aemond is about 15. also ynys would be like 26. hot, i love a woman getting married over the age of 13.

this could work without the pause though - i can just shrink the gap by making ynes 18 or 19. helaena is the age she was when she married aegon in canon (13), and aemond is 12, which means they’d likely wait a year before marrying him to helaena at least. um. it’s not fun but it has been done in this series before, with aemond’s daddy to boot).

POINT FOUR: firstly, every fanfic i’ve read where aegon has some sort of dragon dream has him sour on criston. idk if this is bc the writer dislikes him or because it makes sense aegon would distrust him (as in, sees him as power grabbing on the level of otto and daemon) BUT i do think if he’s keeping this from his mother he’s not gonna tell criston. i thought arryk was a good choice because i imagine aegon (esp show aegon) would appreciate someone so loyal they would be willing to go out in a double murder with their twin brother, over the other two green kingsguard who are Fine but probably watching maelor get ripped to death in a dragon dream turned aegon off a bit.

POINT FIVE: Listen, Viserys hates an argument so if people are being calm and going "look at me, i'm not arguing i'm perfectly rational" he's more likely to listen. see: eventually sending money to daemon in the stepstones. he also does Not care about what aegon does that much, so long as he's a proper dragon rider and Stays Out Of The Way. so if aegon is otherwise behaving, and helaena's feelings aren't hurt, and aemond is happy to marry helaena, and rhaenyra and daemon are both like "this is fine actually" and otto gives up and decides to focus on getting aemond married to helaena while he figures out how to deal with this, viserys will probably chill out and go "well they were married in sight of gods and men, nothing to do about it"

POINT SIX: Saera just saying Maegor's name was enough to make Jaehaerys throw a fit, and Aerion invoking it is part of why they pass his son up in favor of Egg, so I can see Aegon trying to go for some wild names. I also think he'd get Helaena into this, ask her to convince Aemond to name their first born Saera, Viserra, or Maegor. I don't know if Aemond would go for that? He's certainly insane enough but he's a momma's boy and Alicent might talk him out of it.

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #72: Game of Thrones, but make it rags to riches

For all being a bastard in Westeros is not ideal, being the acknowledged natural son of the Warden of the North is a pretty good life. Sure, your food and clothing may not be as good as your trueborn siblings and your stepmother may hate you, but it could very easily be worse. As with many things, the wealth gap makes a difference here too.

So naturally I thought: why not take that all away? Or: What if a female Jon Snow was raised by her mother's maid?

Aka: The People's Queen Fic

Just imagine it:

Lyanna is just that much more stubborn than canon. She manages to grin and bear it through the first few hours of labor, giving no sign to her captors she's about to give birth. She calls for her maid - Myria Sand, a Dornish woman only a few months older than herself - only when the urge to push becomes too much.

She gives birth in silence to a daughter, biting back all her screams until her lips and tongue are bloody. Even if it wasn't clear Lyanna had lost too much blood, she wants better than what Rhaegar had planned for the babe. Lyanna urges her maid to take the child and escape.

Ned arrives at the Tower of Joy to find the remaining Kingsguard burying his sister. Thinking they killed her to hide their prince's secret, he flies into such a rage his bannermen would later say it was as if the spirit of Brandon overtook him. He takes his sister's bones north without ever learning of the child she carried.

Meanwhile, Myria gets as far from the Tower of Joy as possible. She has no idea who the lady in the tower was, only that she was being held against her will and her captors called her Lya. She names Lya's daughter Lynesse, thinking the names are similar enough to honor the woman she barely knew, but who gave everything to protect her child, and eventually finds her way to Oldtown.

Myria takes up service at the Scribe's Hearth and raises Lynesse as her own. It's a hard life, but it's loving, and several of the apprentices dote on little Lynesse, passing her sweets and teaching her to read and draw and do sums.

One of those apprentices is another Dornish bastard, Olyvar - a man a little older than Myria whose father, Nymor Lyons, is a minor lord sworn to House Uller - who has earned six iron links studying bladesmithing. He ends up leaving the Citadel to become a swordsmith in Oldtown and marries Myria in the middle of the Greyjoy Rebellion. He never treats Lynesse as anything other than his own.

Life gets a little less hard after that, but it's still hard work. Lynesse helps as she can as she grows older, but in the end its her drawings - including beautiful, functional designs for hilts - that end up getting attention, especially after her stepfather starts incorporating them into his work.

Meanwhile, canon proceeds apace elsewhere. Jon Arryn dies, Ned Stark is beheaded, the War of Five Kings rages. Prince Oberyn is killed by the Mountain... and Olyvar's father, who was part of Oberyn's retinue, tries to kill the Mountain in revenge. This goes poorly, leaving Olyvar's aging grandfather, Lord Lyons, without an heir. Lacking other options, he recalls Olyvar home and starts training him for the position.

Olyvar is not a bad student, merely disinterested in things that aren't swords. Lynesse, however, eagerly soaks up everything that her grandfather has to teach - though her main interest will always be in drawing and sculpture.

After a few month's preparation, Olyvar and his family are presented to Prince Doran. It is a Cinderella moment without a glass slipper.

Doran takes one look at Lynesse, sees Stark, and the wheels in his head start turning so fast they smoke.

His son Quentyn takes one look at Lynesse and falls into immediate lust, but is gentlemen enough to realize that his attentions make her uncomfortable and so leaves off his flirtations fairly quickly. They end up falling into a conversation about blade design through the known world - and, somewhat amazingly given their backgrounds, end the event as friends.

Doran encourages Quentyn's friendship with Lynesse and suggests to Lord Lyons that his granddaughter might benefit from time spent in the Lady Myrcella's retinue. Meanwhile, Doran has his agents start researching Lynesse's background - and what he finds surpasses his wildest dreams.

But while that plays out, the War of Five Kings continues. It's less major battle and more general chaos, with rule of law stretching only so far as each local lord cares to hold it. Dorne is an island of peace amid the storm and is waiting for the moment Daenerys makes landfall.

No one is more surprised than Quentyn when he's told to go to Dragonstone and present Lynesse as the queen's niece - except for perhaps Lynesse herself. Daenerys is suspicious at first, but the evidence is convincing - and, more importantly, a female relative is less threatening to her claim to the throne and thus can be safely considered family. Once they get over the awkwardness, they become fast friends.

Daenerys carries out her reconquest of Westeros and is eventually crowned Queen. Lynesse remains her heir until such time as she has children of her own... which seems less and less likely as time goes on.

When Dany dies in her 40s after a riding accident, Lynesse is crowned queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She is, perhaps not as powerful a ruler as Dany, but she is competent and fair and aware of her own limitations, and surrounds herself with good advisors. The commonfolk adore her, and for this and her childhood she is often called The People's Queen.

Bonuses include: 1) A slow burn romance between Quentyn and Lynesse. This should characterized by immediate lust on Quentyn's part which turns into genuine love and affection as he gets to know Lynesse over the course of two or three years. His attentions should make Lynesse uncomfortable from the start, but his efforts not to pressure her are a pleasant change after years of being a nothing more than a pretty bastard. Her feelings for Quentyn grow slowly, and its not until Dany suggests she marry Willas Tyrell to secure the Reach that Lynesse realizes she's in love with her best friend; 2) A lot of emphasis on what it's like to grow up as one of the common folk, without the advantages being a lord's bastard might grant. This should continue to a lesser degree after Myria and Olyvar marry, but still be a lingering presence in the back of Lynesse's mind well into Dany's reconquest; 3) Swords. Just everything there is to know about bladesmithing, complete with Olyver's attempts to recreate Valyerian steel. He never quite succeeds even with access to dragons, but comes up with a variant of Toledo steel during the reconquest (called Lyons steel) that makes his house very wealthy; and 4) Lynesse always considering Myria and Olyvar her true parents, and honoring them above all others.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back to me if you do.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aelor the Accursed | Aegon the Adopted | Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Bastard of Winterfell | Daemon the Destroyer | Daena the Dreamer | Daeron the Desired | Dyanna the Defiant | Elia the Magnificent | Jon the Fair | Jon Whitefyre | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Maekar the Maester | People's Queen | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother | Queen of Nightingales | Red Queen | Rhaegar the Righteous | River Queen | Shiera Snowbird | Visneya the Victorious | Wolf Queen

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[westerosoliviapope]

Her baby sister, still draped in the shimmery purple gown she wore at dinner, stands next to the pool, her mother's features, heavy brows, full lips, and fiery eyes, mottled in concern. She was wary of taking her on as an assistant but Loreza Princessa Sand took to the role with the same focus and resourcefulness that put her at the top of her class at River Royne Academy and made her fluent in four languages—including YiTish.

___

I love doing canon nods with the Sand Snakes' middle names.

Obara Olyvia and Nymeria Morraine (for Olyvar and Mors, the two boys Oberyn's mother lost before Elia was born).

Tyene Aliandra (for thee Aliandra Martell)

Sarella Morgana Xanai (of course, Sarella's mother would insist she have a Summer Isles name—Xanai. Morgana for Morgan, the founder of House Martell).

I haven't thought of names for Elia, Obella, and Dorea yet. But Loreza Princessa just feels perfect.

[alleyskywalker]

NEW FIC: Undeniable Spice (Theon/various)

Title: Undeniable Spice Co-Author: @hell-heron Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire Characters/Pairings: Theon/Alys Karstark, Theon/Bessa, Theon/Catelyn, Theon/Daryn Hornwood, Theon/Eleyna Westerling, Theon/Falia Flowers, Theon/Greydon Goodbrother, Theon/Hagen's daughter, Theon/Irri, Theon/Jeyne P., Theon/Kyra, Theon/Loras, Theon/Marq Piper, Theon/Nymeria Sand, Theon/Olyvar, Theon/Patrek, Theon/Quentyn, Theon/Robb, Theon/Squirrel, Theon/Tris, Theon/Miller's Wife from Acorn Water, Theon/Wynafryd, Theon/Captain's Daughter, Theon/Yohn Farwynd, Theon/Zia Frey Rating: R / Mature Word Count: ~10,700 Summary: A collection of drabbles and ficlets featuring different Theon ships (sweet, bitter or spicy!), one for each letter of the alphabet.

Read on AO3

[theladymeera]

From the Ashes, Chapter 3

Many meetings

I FINALLY UPDATED

[janeboleyns]

House Martell: the Princes of Dorne

-

*some names not canon

[direwolfrules]

The Weirwood Queen Memes Part 9: Because My ADHD Meds Are Out of Stock and Life is Meaningless

Memes for The Weirwood Queen Series by @redwolf17. It's a great series, really well-written, and just an epic saga. I recommend it, as evidenced by my 9 meme posts about it. Spoilers below (obviously). Proceed at your own risk.

Link to Master Post (Yes, we have a Master Post now)

[redwolf17]

Olyvar/Sansa are both wholesome AND deranged and I love them

Olyvar, 5 seconds after meeting Sansa: sure why not risk my life for her that’s totally normal EVERYONE should volunteer to defend innocent maidens who verbally annihilate Tywin Lannister to his face so what if I’m just a squire and secretly Aegon Targaryen nope don’t think about that

Olyvar: promptly almost dies fighting the Mountain

Sansa: accidentally saves his life by summoning attack birds

Sansa the next day: my unexpected champion has barely survived his trial by combat with the Mountain! I’m gonna try eldritch song magic that I barely understand to heal his crushed arm

Olyvar: has a violent nightmare

Sansa: flees

Olyvar: does not notice his suspiciously fast healing

Olyvar: it is extremely normal to have a marriage proposal be my ONLY idea to save this helpless child from Cersei

Olyvar: EW I’m not going to deeply kiss her at the wedding, that’s a BABY why does everyone think this is a love story??? Also let me make terrible puns to try to comfort the terrified bride NO we are not doing a bedding?!?? drags Sansa to his rooms

Sansa: starts to strip

Olyvar: NONONONO flings cloak over her uhhhh if anyone is listening I’m too drunk to consummate we’ll do that uhhhh never later BYE BYE *flees*

Sansa: …..

Sansa: okay, so, rather than flee my unwanted and possibly a pedophile husband the instant we’re out of the city and I smell Brienne nearby, what if I COME OUT OF THE WEREWOLF CLOSET AND THREATEN HIM WITH A PACK OF WOLVES

Olyvar: 😳🥺 oh wow she’s scary and cool and justified tbh, if she murdered me she’d have a point too bad I can’t tell her my secret, nope, don’t blab, don’t blab —*immediately blabs*

Sansa: wait you’re ELIA’S SON?!?!?

Olyvar: … oops

Olyvar: doesn’t tell ANYONE about the werewolf revelation because that is Sansa’s secret

Brienne: SO. Time to flee north, yeah?

Sansa: no Brienne I’m not going home to Robb, I gotta meet Princess Elia because WTF

Olyvar: okay so my baby wife is just another sister. Clearly that means I gotta watch over Sansa night/day, make sure she’s properly fed/protected from sunstroke, comfort her with lullabies when she has trauma nightmares

Sansa: oh no he makes terrible puns, why am I laughing??? Mmm citrus and blithely sharing my heinous trauma whilst being confused when Olyvar goes 😨😳

Elia: so yeah my son needs to go on a mission to Daenerys, claim a dragon if he can, Sansa should probably stay here

Olyvar: excuse me that’s up to HER

Sansa: uhhh, well clearly I can’t go home rn, I gotta go to Meereen to serve as Olyvar’s dragon translator even though it’s unclear skinchanging will let me do that

Elia and Meria: wait serve as his what

Sansa: … he didn’t tell you??? I’m a werewolf and I can talk to animals no big deal

Elia and Meria: ?!!?!?!?!?!!!!!??

Robett Glover: Sansa is clearly being held in Sunspear against her will despite her apparent freedom and good humor. I shall break into her rooms to rescue her and carry her away!

Gilly: oh no 😱

Olyvar, sleeping in a chair on nightmare duty: oh NO 😳

Sansa, seeing Robett threaten to kill Olyvar: OH NO 🤬

Sansa: turns into a direwolf and tackles Robett before shifting back so she can yell at him for not believing her

Robb, receiving letters from Robett and Sansa explaining she’s going to Meereen: ….. wtf is happening

Sansa and Olyvar in Meereen: wow, what an amazing friend/partner who supports me and balances my strengths/weaknesses. Too bad we can’t stay married

Olyvar and Sansa: … UNLESS

promptly fall in love

spend 3 years openly pining and angsting over the political implications

Dornish retinue: drop constant hints that are less and less subtle

Dany: gives Sansa a sheer muslin negligée

Aegor: gives Olyvar a Yunkish Kama sutra

Olyvar and Sansa: still refuse to have sex

Olyvar: Sansa is my closest confidant, of course she will come with me on a dragonback road trip to track down Drogon. NO we’re not gonna do THAT whilst we’re alone and unchaperoned come on it’s not like we’re deeply in love

Everyone: deep sigh of frustration because they actually believe him

Sansa: falls off Viserion

Olyvar: leaps into the Rhoynar from dragonback to save Sansa from drowning

Sansa: I am literally BEGGING you to join me in bed 🥺

Olyvar: WHOOPS look at the time goes to sleep with Viserion instead

Olyvar to Deziel: goes on about his love for Sansa at length, rather poetically But we can’t consummate the marriage, what if Robb Stark is mad??? What if our love is a political disaster like that of Jaime and Cersei???

Deziel: dude, you’re a fucking moron

Several months later, Sansa to Brienne: but what if Olyvar is right???

Brienne: my lady, you’re a moron

Sansa: …

Sansa: goes to yell at Olyvar

Olyvar: escapes being yelled at by being knocked overboard by a sudden squall

Sansa: is terrified of falling and drowning

Also Sansa: turns into a wolf, leaps off a ship into the Narrow Sea to save Olyvar from drowning

The next morning: Olyvar and Sansa wake up naked together because she cuddled him in wolf form to prevent hypothermia and no other ulterior motives. Sansa puts on the negligée and reads him the riot act. Olyvar gets on his knees to pledge his love by saying wedding vows again. They FINALLY have sex, only to find out the crew was placing bets on when they’d bang and Gilly won.

… they shrug it off and have sex 24/7 for a week

—————

*art of our beloved weirdos by @ohnoitsmyra

[vivacissimx]

Do you ever think about how obscenely unfair it is that every single member of the Dead Ladies Club is put on a pedestal and held up as some sort of epitome of virtue because most of them died young and beautiful and desired and are remembered from a considerable chronological distance whereas you’re not supposed to acknowledge any positive points of the living women at all, especially not those with mental health issues.

I believe the pedestal treatment was the initial critique of the OG Dead Ladies Club post, however art imitates life. Re-imaginings that position women as (mainly) courteous, good, kind, beautiful etc. are not always* trite but it's imp to note that those are qualities upper class women have historically been able to aspire to. Someone being [insert positive] is fine. Good for them. But why were they like that? What did it gain them? Cost them? How far did they go or conversely how easily did they break? If we are going to theorize about dead fictional women we need to ask these questions instead of just using them as rubrics to grade other women against.

*When I say not always: I mean in cases like Ned recounting that Lyanna was beautiful, in between chastising Arya for being willful and allowing her to keep Needle. Her beauty isn't the point - that moment and the conversation with Robert in the crypts opens the question: does Ned sympathize with Lyanna? In those final moments they spent together, is it possible they found an understanding? In what direction does his guilt run? His resentment?

*When I say not always: I mean assigning those traits to dead characters is not inherently frivolous. Death is a site of memory. Is that dead girl beautiful because well, we gotta say something about her? Or is she beautiful because she had unrealized potential, because she's a promise yet to be kept? That said, using random virtuous traits to 'flesh out' a character when there are others places to explore is a missed opportunity. Example: the unnamed princess of Dorne. We know she served as Rhaella's lady-in-waiting, a prestigious courtly position. We know she had a friendly and/or strategic relationship with Joanna Lannister, yet a less than cordial one with Tywin. Did that begin in King's Landing? Was the Princess ambitious, ambitious enough to choose living in King's Landing above Dorne while she was possibly already ruling, enough to threaten the Hand of the King? And why were her children all partnered out of Dorne - did she approve of Mellario, of a relationship with Norvos? None of Oberyn's first four baby mothers were Dornish, the eldest Sand Snakes likely conceived out of Dorne entirely, and the Princess wanted Cersei for him. Elia married Rhaegar, which was certainly of the Princess' design, and she likely hosted him when he visited Dorne on the trip that would bring Rhaegar to Griffin's Roost. Why did any of that happen? Did she have a ten-year plan for Dorne, a plan that would benefit even the smallfolk she valued enough to remind Doran to remember them? Northern ambitions perhaps?

*Did Aerys, attempting to punish Rhaella for her lack of affection for him by repeatedly pursuing her ladies, try to seduce the Princess? Did she rebuff him? And in the case of Rhaella, the Princess, and Joanna: why did three women all connected to each other have similar difficulties carrying children to term [Rhaella's numerous miscarriages and dead children, the Princess' Mors and Olyvar, Joanna going 9 years between Jaime/Cersei & Tyrion]? Was the maester's conspiracy at play?

What I'm saying is, if you are so inclined, many a dead lady can be fleshed out without martyring or villainizing her. Erasing misogyny, mess, and mistakes from stories about women makes for a bunch of tragic saints who died in the misery of always knowing better.

In which case, I couldn't care less about them.

Because, on a personal level, I hate re-tellings/headcanons that position characters as predicting (and in AU, successfully avoiding) a future. Useless to me. If you died a long-suffering flawless do-gooder who deserved better, then frankly you should've been more selfish. Everyone should get something they want in a story, but nobody gets everything or nothing. Granted this is at times the fault of the author, of the male gaze, of there simply being no space or leeway for a certain character to get more than they got. But in the business of fleshing out your minor blorbo, remember that they can't just be something, they must also do something. Something which includes missteps & misunderstandings.

Sorry for the essay, anon, but to your last point: yes exalting noblewomen who are provided the resources to perform the theater of womanhood and are successful / reviling those failed women who don't. Hm! Does anyone else remember when bell hooks said feminist sisterhood is when we enforce benchmarks of race and class on each other? Remember that dragons are nukes? And if we give a woman the nuclear codes she'll get her period and obliterate Moscow? Yeah. "Subversive."

[agentrouka-blog]

There's the theory that Lady Stoneheart will wipe out House Frey in Red wedding 2.0. What's your opinion on this?

Hi anon!

Something along those lines is obviously happening, there's foreshadowing for a cookery-related atrocity in some of the earliest chapters with the Freys (see also the corresponding reread post by @istumpysk). LSH has been hanging Freys all over the place already. They are under attack and it won't get better.

But the fact that Wyman Manderly already served up some Frey Pies to the Boltons makes me think we'll see a last minute switch in direction. Likely related to the presence of Arya. Instead of Frey Pies, we'll get a Hot Pie development, where in the face of a larger threat, former enemies set aside their strife, and the remains of the Frey men are reintegrated into the fight against the Others (probably) or dragons, perhaps lead by more decent Freys like the currently missing Olyvar, who is Roslin's brother and Walda's.

A chance to regain honor.

Ellaria Sand's speech against the cycle of vengeance specifically mentioned her young daughters. It was Cat's fervent wish to save hers, and to preserve peace before she was betrayed and murdered. When Lyanna won against the three knights as the KotLT, she specifically demanded that they teach their squires honor. An investment into a lesson.

So not pulling a true Red Wedding 2.0 strikes me as a lot more likely, thematically, than GRRM just letting the vengeful slaughter continue. It combines a resolution of Arya's vengeance arc with a resolution to Lady Stoneheart's, in the place where both narrowly missed reuniting.

[lueurnotes]

If it Please You

Oberyn Martell/Reader/Ellaria Sand

Word Count: 3673

Warnings: intimacy, nudity, brothel setting, intense flirting and eye-fucking; Oberyn deserves his own warning 

    King’s Landing found itself in a splendid rush, far different from the bell tolls spurred by war. From the slums of Flea Bottom, all the way to the Red Keep’s walls, the city was truly alive. Every capable man, woman, and child were at work. After all, there was a wedding to celebrate. 

     Your eyes fluttered open as another droplet of wet splattered in between your eyes. With a groan, you wiped at it with the sleeve of your nightgown. The thin blanket that draped over your body was quickly shoved to the side as you swung your legs over the small feather bed. The cold of the wood floor immediately seeped into your feet and goosebumps raced across your legs.

     A moment passed while you took in the quiet of dawn. Even the gulls slept silently. All while the many servants, cooks, and handmaidens of the Red Keep rose before the sun to serve. It was far from the quiet life you had before you came to the castle, but in some ways, it was just as mute.     

You let out a sigh and began to prepare for the day. 

The wash basin set upon a small table in the corner of the room was your first destination. You ran your hands through the morning-chilled water, glancing into the small mirror you kept nailed to the wall. Going through the motions of your routine, you rinsed your mouth before spitting out into a separate bowl. You might live in the cramped maid chamber of an estate close enough to the Red Keep, but it wasn’t in the Red Keep. Nobody here was going to empty your chamber pot for you, let alone your used water. 

With a slight hum, you went back to your bed, resting at the foot of it so you could open the one storage space available in such a small place. You carefully lifted the creaking lid of the rather aged chest that kept all of your creations. Everyday clothing, really, but still creations of your own. Creams, a few whites, but primarily muted hues of any color you could get your capable hands on dominated the collection. If your work in the estate provided one thing, it was material that you seldom had before you found this job. Smiling, you plucked a lilac dress from the many dresses, tunics, and breeches.

Swift with it, you removed your nightclothes, taking care to replace it with fresh underclothes. This dress in particular was a recent design, a very light fabric that extended over your arms fully and cinched at your waist with sewn-in corset boning. Without losing so much as a breath, you slipped it over your head, gently pulling down at the base. Perfect fit. You looked down to take in your work. The skirt itself was simple and fell at the middle of your shins. Perhaps, not entirely simple as you went through with the effort of hand-embroidering it with a repeated border of the phases of the moon. The thicker thread was a touch darker than the fabric, nearly blending in at the seam.

 Directly across your bed was your private work table that rests under the single window of your room. You groaned when you saw the mess you left there previously. Lengthy pieces of chain scattered about that were meshed with bits of fabric and the many tools of your trade. Reaching under the modest craft table, you grabbed your one pair of boots that had the slightest heel to them. Pulling your skirt to the side, you quickly slipped them on and moved to sit on the small bed that dominated your chambers. Your hands moved deftly, tying up the loosened laces of yesterday taut once more. Glancing at the window as you finished lacing them up, you saw the sun just peeking over the city horizon. Your chest swelled with a deep breath and broke into a sigh as you stretched up to your full height. 

Another day in King’s Landing. 

… 

A middle-aged woman sat perched on a stool amidst a room with possibly hundreds of bolts of fabric. Hair a tad greyed and her skin dull too, she stood out against the colorful collection spread across the wall. Each bolt of fabric possessed something that varied from the likes of you, her, or any other seamstress that ever walked into this room. These pieces of cloth would live to touch royalty one day. 

Her hands flowed through the motions of sewing pieces of chiffon together as it flowed out across the table and spilled to the ground. 

“Good morning, Koras,” you greeted. 

Her hands continued to thread the petal pink chiffon without a glance in your direction.

Ahem.

“You are to send this,” the older woman gestured to a package, “to the Prince immediately. It’s the piece you worked on yesterday.” She deftly threaded the needle back through the fabric.

Messenger duty. You scoffed, but knew better than to argue. 

“And which prince might that be?” 

Gods, there had to be at least one hundred princes in the capital by now. All gathered to gaze upon the spectacle of a Tyrell-Lannister wedding. With any luck, it won’t be nearly as disastrous as the Frey’s. 

She paused her progress, “Prince Oberyn Martell.”

You paused for a bit longer than Koras could tolerate as your mind raced through the names of the aforementioned hundreds of princes.

Ah. 

“—of Dorne?”

“Yes, of Dorne!” She exasperated, “No, I meant the grown one that apparently licks at his mother’s breasts.” 

Ok, that was too much information.  

“Right away, Koras.” You hurriedly took the package from her worktable and moved to exit the seamstress’s space. Koras called out to you and your skirts twisted with your turn, “Yes?”

She sighed, “You forgot to ask where you’re headed off to.”

Ah, that’s important. You nodded. 

She continued, “He’ll be in the Street of Silk, at Littlefinger’s establishment.”

Now that’s a proper way to put it. 

“Thank you Koras,” you sang. 

The woman made an affirmative grunt before picking up her needle and fabric once more.

Package in arm, you made your way out of the estate and towards the Street of Silk. The road extended straight out of the Red Keep and, unfortunately, was deemed too short of a walk to require a horse. While you may be delivering to a prince, the stables were reserved for far more important duties. Plus, the walk was nice… in its own way. 

The sun was barely rising as the people outside of the Red Keep’s walls began to break from sleep. The sounds of the city slowly began to amplify with the rays of the morning light. And with that light, something truly special. 

Your ears picked up the tell-tale splat of someone emptying their chamber pot.

Letting out a sigh, you sidestepped to get closer to the middle of the street and tread towards the one place that was truly always awake in King’s Landing. 

… 

Lord Baelish’s brothel came into view as you walked past the many brothels that aligned the Street of Silk. At this point, you would be far from surprised if Littlefinger owned more than half of the houses on the Silk alone.

 A smile graced your lips as a few children ran about as their mothers followed them closely to take them to bathe. Stopping at an entryway with a mockingbird sigil, you walked up the stone steps to enter. The crimson-dark shades of the establishment did little in the ways to help with your sight. Briskly, you found your way past the many private red rooms of the brothel. Not that anything was truly private within the gates of the capital. Keeping your gaze set forward to the uppermost chambers of the pleasure house, you continued to the center room where there was usually someone to greet you. The ornate door that guarded the most expensive room of the entire place was no doubt the rooms of the Dornish prince, but there was no way you would go up and knock this early in the morning. 

You glanced about the atrium in silent frustration. Choosing to sit and wait on a chaise lounge without any visible stains, you made yourself comfortable. You internally groaned at the thought of knocking directly on the door, prince or otherwise. Where the hell was Olyvar?

  As if summoned by mere thought, the majordomo poked his head out of the room that you were bracing yourself to walk into. 

“Olyvar!” you grinned, standing up. His shirt was nowhere to be found and he smiled as he ran his fingers through his hair, a weak attempt to tame the bed-tousled blonde locks. He called to you in greeting.

Still holding the package close, you walked up to him and smoothed out the taller man’s hair with one hand. 

“Rough night?” your eyes trailed across his collarbone and chest, nearly every part littered with marks and love bruises. 

“A rather fun one,” he glanced at your occupied arm, “Oh, so m’ lady is not here for breakfast, then?” 

Had no idea there was actual food to eat here. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, “I’m afraid not, and you know as well as I, that I’m far from a lady.” You nodded towards the shut door, “But I’m actually here for the prince.” 

“Ah, of course, head right on in then. They won’t mind.” You said your thanks and made your way to the door.

Wait a minute. Them?

Your heartbeat could not help the quickening in pace as you quietly turned the knob of the door. Despite the brightness of the outside world, you inadvertently squinted to adjust to the dimness of the chambers. The scent of sex and something else dominated the decorated bedroom. A spice perhaps? Or maybe citrus? Either way, it was an incense unlike anything of King’s Landing. Unlike anything of Westeros even. 

“My lord?” You called out into the room. 

A figure you hadn’t noticed before rose from the chaise lounge that was set near the platformed bed. The woman that approached you was much like the perfume that enveloped the room, enveloped you. She was unlike anything of Westeros. Her hips swayed and her gown followed with every movement. The amber fabric draped as if it were a part of her body. An extension of her that swept delicately over the marbled floor as she sauntered towards you. 

You caught yourself, quickly dropping to a curtsy in greeting, “My lady, I apologize for the intrusion, but I am here for the prince.” 

The woman let out a chuckle, “No need for that, I am not the one to bow to.” Her Dornish accent was warm and smooth like the finest suede you could touch on the Street of Looms. Smoothly, you straightened your posture and chanced a glance up to meet her eyes. Although you were fully dressed and had been awake for far longer than the woman in front of you, it was as if the Gods had blessed her with a beauty that knew no hours, be it dawn or dusk. 

“I am Ellaria Sand,” her eyes glittered, “And you must be the gift he sent. What is your name, love?” 

Ellaria’s hand trailed up your arm and you nearly dropped the parcel as you stuttered out your name. Maybe she didn’t understand? Is there a different language in Dorne? Oh, my Gods— her soft hand tilted your chin up, “Beautiful.” 

If the Gods wished you to pass away right there in the apartment of a brothel, then so be it. 

“Thank you, my lady—,” You began. 

  Her thumb tapped at your lip, “Ah, ah. Say my name,” her head tilted just a fraction, and her lengthy waves shifted with it as she leaned impossibly close to your parted lips.  

“Ellaria.” 

Your mouth was agape as you both turned at the masculine voice that graced your senses. Leaving the warm touch of Ellaria, you dropped to a curtsy, arm still holding onto the package. 

“My lord,” your eyes trailed from his laced boots, the very hem of his robe-like garment, up to the bronze-linked necklace that sat center on his bare chest. You explored the detailed suns that were embroidered across the entire piece. Only then did you lock eyes with Prince Oberyn Martell. And much like Ellaria, they glittered. Except only his shone with mirth. 

Shit. He definitely noticed me checking him out.

He let out a charming laugh that did little to stave the flutter in your chest after nearly being kissed by the woman next to you. It was devastating.

“It’s alright, girl,” he smirked, “Is my paramour causing trouble?” 

Once again standing straight, you hurriedly shook your head, “No, my lord. I am afraid that I am the one at fault.” You cleared the nerves that caught in your throat, “I had only meant to deliver this package to you. Your altered garments for the wedding as requested.” 

Ellaria’s voice lilted, “My mistake, love. I was so taken by you I had just thought Oberyn sent a girl to wake me.” 

Oh.

Oh!

As if the situation could not be more unreal. Her words sent your mind ablaze like wildfire. Thoughts of you entwined with the alluring Ellaria swept over your senses. It burned you somewhere deep within. The feeling set your very soul ablaze. 

Distracting you from the flurry of thoughts that were bound to follow, Oberyn interrupted it by closing the proper distance between you. Gently, you offered him the package and he took it from your hold, still gazing at your eyes. He made his way over to the chaise that Ellaria had just been occupying moments ago, carefully unfolding the bundle to reveal the fabric within. Oberyn skimmed his ringed fingers over the gilded brocade, stopping shortly to look warmly up at you.

“Incredible work,” he paused, “I did not get your name before I found you warming up to Ellaria.” 

Your face burned with both praise and fluster as you said your name. “If it please you, my lord, you may call me that.” 

Gods. This is the longest conversation with a highborn���

“It does please me,” he looked at Ellaria, “And I can see you please her as well.” Eyes a fraction wider, you turned to her in disbelief and she smirked at you. Her gaze grew warm despite the chill of the morning that seeped into the room during the early hours. You swore by the New and the Old Gods that the heat of your soul alone kept you standing… and quite possibly the willpower of someone that had not shared a bed in quite some time.

Yep, calling it. I will pass away in a brothel apartment.  

For the umpteenth time that morning, you cleared your throat, “My lord, I do not work for Littlefinger, nor am I just a messenger. I was the seamstress commissioned to alter your robe.” You bit your lip, already flushed from the attention.

You failed to notice the prince’s eyes darken at the action. 

His bronzed hands set the garment to the side and rested at his thighs that were spread just the slightest. Your eyes were glued to the way the rich ochre panels of the robe shifted with each slight movement. Had you been born a hound instead of a human, you would have licked at your lips. 

“So you are not attracted to my Ellaria?” he asked bluntly.  

This time, his question and the touch of Ellaria made you jump. Gooseflesh spread across your arms as she slowly grazed your waist and leaned her lips close to your ear, murmuring your name as if to coax the answer from you.

“I, I—,” you shuddered, “I mean no offense, my lord, of course. But, like I was saying, I’m just a seamstress for the Red Keep ah—” 

Ellaria’s hand trailed back up to your chin and turned your head so she could get a look at your face. 

“Not timid, just holding back,” she smiled fondly, “Sweet girl, may I commission you to spend your day with us?” 

Ellaria looked at Oberyn, “For her troubles, my love.” Her finger grazed your lip once more and you had to physically stop yourself from getting just a taste of her, “I am sure she had work to do today.” 

Who were you to deny her? And him? 

The last of the rationale of your mind took over and you blurted, “I can make you something.” Her brow raised in question. “For the wedding, I mean. If you’re to pay me then I ought to give you something in return.”

Ellaria chuckled. It was musical. “What do you say, my love?” She looked at Oberyn, hand falling from your face. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding. 

His eyes gleamed as he stood up to his full height, ambling towards you both, “It would be my pleasure,” his hand reached down to yours as he brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on the arches of your knuckles. Oberyn murmured your name and the very sound raised the hairs at the nape of your neck. “Your work is exquisite, but a gown would be a bit—,” His hand let go of yours and instead moved to rest at your waist, “—short notice, no?” 

You shook your head, eyes wide, “I have been working on a project for quite some time, my lord. A jewelry piece fit for a queen.” You had to bite back a frown, “Well, it would have been for the Queen Regent herself, but her handmaiden told me that it was too fierce.” Your eyes flitted back up to meet him as you relaxed into his warm touch. 

Oberyn leaned closer, “My girl, that sounds perfect for Ellaria.”

As if on cue, Ellaria’s body pressed to your backside and warmth blossomed from the center of her embrace. She spoke smoothly, “I can not wait to wear it, but in the meantime, I want you to change.”

Huh? 

“Change into what?” You asked.

Oberyn’s brow quirked in question, much like yours. It was like he and Ellaria had an entire conversation within half a second before his confusion melted away into a look of pure mischief. He looked down at your curious gaze with a smirk that slowly spread into a smile that nearly stopped the beat of your heart. 

“Would you let Ellaria undress you?”

Anytime, anywhere.

“Of course,” you rasped. 

“Good.” He then turned away from you, padding across the room towards the chaise. Your eyes trailed after the swish of his sun-drenched robes until a pair of lips kissing softly at your neck broke you from your trance. You pivoted towards Ellaria, glancing into her sparkling brown eyes as you held a wavering hand to her cheek, your brows furrowed and eyes shining in eagerness. 

“Before I undress, may I kiss you?” 

Her warm giggle played to your ears, melodic as ever, “My love, I was about to ask the same.”

You let out a featherlight laugh before you both leaned in impossibly closer within each other’s embrace, her breath gently dancing on your parted lips. Ellaria quickly closed the minute gap, her mouth melding to yours in equally restrained excitement as she pulled you in by the waist. You responded in kind, stroking at her cheek as she deepened the kiss. Quite suddenly, she pulled away with a heated gasp, a sunny smile gracing the lips that had just been upon yours. 

“Ok, ok, I got it. Now I’ll undress,” you grinned as you were reaching down to pull up at your skirt.

A firm grip on your arm stopped you in your actions. You turned to meet the heated stare of Oberyn, his eyes growing impossibly darker. He looked to Ellaria.

“Undress our guest, my love.”

Ellaria leaned down, dutifully pulling your dress skirt upwards as she rose up. The fabric and boning was pulled from your body as you stood in just your scant underclothes and boots, heart racing. Ellaria’s deep eyes roamed across your exposed skin and her look nearly made you shiver despite the heat coursing through you. She leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on your pliant mouth. 

“Beautiful,” she whispered lowly in your ear. 

Without another word of praise, she disappeared from your vision, taking your dress with her. Like clockwork, Oberyn’s hand found its way to the small of your back and you turned to him. 

“Take the rest off.”

You nearly had to stifle a mewl from the slow drawl of his voice before nodding your assent, quickly moving to get everything off. When at last you stood bare before him, both underclothes and boots in a dejected pile on the floor, your eyebrows shot up. 

“Why are you holding your robes?”

“I need them to smell like you,” he breezily replied, “Now let me clothe you.”

“O-Ok.”

You let him dress you with your work, the golden brocade familiar to your hands, to your body. The familiarity was jarring. These were two people you just met. Two people that might not see you ever again. And yet, the spark there was undeniable. It didn’t matter if it flickered once and died, or if it consumed and burned you for eternity. You just hoped to ignite. 

“Perfect.”

You grinned, raising your arms at him, the sleeves hanging over your hands, “Perfect?”

He chuckled warmly, grabbing your form and pulling you into his embrace, his lips grazing lightly over your own as you shuddered.

“Yes, my sweet girl. Perfect.” 

As if to prove his assertion, he bent down to kiss your lips with a similar slowness much like Ellaria. Heat pooled in your belly when the prince dared to bite at your bottom lip, a moan slipped from your mouth as you responded with equal eagerness, hands grasping at whatever was in reach.

a/n: thank you for your patience! I’m sorry I couldn’t get this out sooner... I also cut the explicit part because I definitely lack the confidence to post it right now. Maybe a part two will happen :( sorry y’all