#VII / about. I am the feast on the table ; I am the beast in the fable

[ly-kos]

writing ambessa's beginning to feel like girl maybe you'd just fuck anything that walks

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Catelyn VII (Chapter 51)

The drums were pounding, pounding, pounding, and her head with them. Pipes wailed and flutes trilled from the musicians' gallery at the foot of the hall; fiddles screeched, horns blew, the skins skirled a lively tune, but the drumming drove them all. The sounds echoed off the rafters, whilst the guests ate, drank, and shouted at one another below. Walder Frey must be deaf as a stone to call this music.

Catelyn, they're not musicians.

Why is nobody listening to me?

+.+.+

Catelyn sipped a cup of wine and watched Jinglebell prance to the sounds of "Alysanne." At least she thought it was meant to be "Alysanne." With these players, it might as easily have been "The Bear and the Maiden Fair."

Did you think we might get a break from bears? Think again!

+.+.+

Yet most of the heat came off the bodies of the wedding guests, jammed in so thick along the benches that every man who tried to lift his cup poked his neighbor in the ribs.

I hate this.

+.+.+

Catelyn could not fault him [Roose Bolton] for his lack of appetite. The wedding feast began with a thin leek soup, followed by a salad of green beans, onions, and beets, river pike poached in almond milk, mounds of mashed turnips that were cold before they reached the table, jellied calves' brains, and a leche of stringy beef. It was poor fare to set before a king, and the calves' brains turned Catelyn's stomach.

I hate everything.

+.+.+

The Late Lord Frey might be niggardly when it came to feeding his guests, but he did not stint on the drink. The ale, wine, and mead were flowing as fast as the river outside. The Greatjon was already roaring drunk. 

Bad.

+.+.+

Smalljon Umber and Robin Flint sat near Robb, to the other side of Fair Walda and Alyx, respectively. Neither of them was drinking; along with Patrek Mallister and Dacey Mormont, they were her son's guards this evening. A wedding feast was not a battle, but there were always dangers when men were in their cups, and a king should never be unguarded. 

Everything is bad.

+.+.+

Bolton had made a toast to Lord Walder's grandsons when the wedding feast began, pointedly mentioning that Walder and Walder were in the care of his bastard son. From the way the old man had squinted at him, his mouth sucking at the air, Catelyn knew he had heard the unspoken threat.

"Don't forget to not kill me."

+.+.+

Was there ever a wedding less joyful? she wondered, until she remembered her poor Sansa and her marriage to the Imp. Mother take mercy on her. She has a gentle soul. 

Why are you making this worse?

+.+.+

Above the din came a sudden snarling as two dogs fell upon each other over a scrap of meat. They rolled across the floor, snapping and biting, as a howl of mirth went up. Someone doused them with a flagon of ale and they broke apart. One limped toward the dais. Lord Walder's toothless mouth opened in a bark of laughter as the dripping wet dog shook ale and hair all over three of his grandsons.

Who are the two dogs?

+.+.+

The sight of the dogs made Catelyn wish once more for Grey Wind, but Robb's direwolf was nowhere to be seen. Lord Walder had refused to allow him in the hall. "Your wild beast has a taste for human flesh, I hear, heh," the old man had said. "Rips out throats, yes. I'll have no such creature at my Roslin's feast, amongst women and little ones, all my sweet innocents."

I am upset.

+.+.+

Lord Umber wiped his mouth, stood, and began to sing. "A bear there was, a bear, a BEAR! All black and brown and covered with hair!" His voice was not at all bad, though somewhat thick from drink. Unfortunately the fiddlers and drummers and flutists up above were playing "Flowers of Spring," which suited the words of "The Bear and the Maiden Fair" as well as snails might suit a bowl of porridge.

Flowers of Spring? I prefer Flowers of Spring over bears. Tell me more about the Flowers of Spring. Are they jonquils? They're jonquils, aren't they?

+.+.+

Roose Bolton murmured some words too soft to hear and went off in search of a privy. 

Love that he went to the privy. Is Ramsay waiting for you?

I forgot it's not Roose caught in the chainmail, it's Edwyn Frey. Makes sense. Roose is too smart to be around when the chaos starts, and arrows start flying.

+.+.+

The servers were bringing out huge silver platters piled high with cuts of juicy pink lamb, the most appetizing dish they'd seen all evening. 

Lambs to the slaughter.

In a throne above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and held a leg of lamb in one hand as a king might hold a scepter, and his eyes followed Dany with mute appeal. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

+.+.+

Catelyn wondered if Lady Maege had reached the Neck as yet. She had taken her other daughters with her, but as one of Robb's battle companions Dacey had chosen to remain by his side. He has Ned's gift for inspiring loyalty. 

Stannis read from the letter. "Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is STARK. A girl of ten, you say, and she presumes to scold her lawful king." - Jon I, ADWD

+.+.+

Lord Edmure's wrapped my sweetling in a fish cloak, but they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath, heh, and a wedding needs a bedding. What does my sire say? Is it meet that we should bed them?"

[...]

On Catelyn's own wedding night, Jory Cassell had torn her gown in his haste to get her out of it, and drunken Desmond Grell kept apologizing for every bawdy joke, only to make another. When Lord Dustin had beheld her naked, he'd told Ned that her breasts were enough to make him wish he'd never been weaned.

[...]

"I hear Tully men have trout between their legs instead of cocks," Alyx Frey called out boldly. "Does it take a worm to make them rise?" To which Ser Marq Piper threw back, "I hear that Frey women have two gates in place of one!" and Alyx said, "Aye, but both are closed and barred to little things like you!" A gust of laughter followed, until Patrek Mallister climbed up onto a table to propose a toast to Edmure's one-eyed fish. "And a mighty pike it is!" he proclaimed. "Nay, I'll wager it's a minnow," Fat Walda Bolton shouted out from Catelyn's side. 

[...]

The men and boys surrounded Roslin and lifted her into the air whilst the maids and mothers in the hall pulled Edmure to his feet and began tugging at his clothing. He was laughing and shouting bawdy jokes back at them, though the music was too loud for Catelyn to hear. She heard the Greatjon, though. "Give this little bride to me," he bellowed as he shoved through the other men and threw Roslin over one shoulder. "Look at this little thing! No meat on her at all!"

This is somehow worse than all the death.

+.+.+

Up in the gallery the musicians took up their pipes and horns and fiddles again, and began to play "The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown."

Is that a joke about Robb losing his crown?

+.+.+

Catelyn felt sorry for the girl. Most brides tried to return the banter, or at least pretended to enjoy it, but Roslin was stiff with terror, clutching the Greatjon as if she feared he might drop her. She's crying too, Catelyn realized as she watched Ser Marq Piper pull off one of the bride's shoes. I hope Edmure is gentle with the poor child. 

Please don't call her a child. You're not helping.

+.+.+

Catelyn wondered how many of the men here tonight would be dead before the year was done. Too many, I fear.

It sucks. Everything sucks.

+.+.+

Dacey Mormont, who seemed to be the only woman left in the hall besides Catelyn, stepped up behind Edwyn Frey, and touched him lightly on the arm as she said something in his ear. Edwyn wrenched himself away from her with unseemly violence. "No," he said, too loudly. "I'm done with dancing for the nonce." Dacey paled and turned away. Catelyn got slowly to her feet. What just happened there? Doubt gripped her heart, where an instant before had been only weariness.

Wait, what would have happened if Catelyn and Robb participated in the bedding ceremony like they were supposed to?

+.+.+

With scarcely a moment's respite, they began to play a very different sort of song. No one sang the words, but Catelyn knew "The Rains of Castamere" when she heard it. Edwyn was hurrying toward a door. She hurried faster, driven by the music. Six quick strides and she caught him. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? She grabbed Edwyn by the arm to turn him and went cold all over when she felt the iron rings beneath his silken sleeve.

I'm ready. End my misery.

+.+.+

Catelyn slapped him so hard she broke his lip. Olyvar, she thought, and Perwyn, Alesander, all absent. And Roslin wept . . .

Hang on, I have a quick question before we get started.

Perwyn was one of Robb's personal guards, and escorted Catelyn when she met with Renly. Olyvar was Robb's squire, and loyal to him, even after the broken vow.

I understand why they're not there. Why is Alesander Frey missing? More competent with an instrument than a bow?

Okay, carry on.

+.+.+

Edwyn Frey shoved her aside. The music drowned all other sound, echoing off the walls as if the stones themselves were playing. Robb gave Edwyn an angry look and moved to block his way . . . and staggered suddenly as a quarrel sprouted from his side, just beneath the shoulder. If he screamed then, the sound was swallowed by the pipes and horns and fiddles. Catelyn saw a second bolt pierce his leg, saw him fall. Up in the gallery, half the musicians had crossbows in their hands instead of drums or lutes. She ran toward her son, until something punched in the small of the back and the hard stone floor came up to slap her. "Robb!" she screamed. 

+.+.+

Robin Flint was ringed by Freys, their daggers rising and falling. Ser Wendel Manderly rose ponderously to his feet, holding his leg of lamb. A quarrel went in his open mouth and came out the back of his neck. 

[...]

The Smalljon bludgeoned Ser Raymund Frey across the face with a leg of mutton. But when he reached for his swordbelt a crossbow bolt drove him to his knees. 

[...]

"Mercy!" Catelyn cried, but horns and drums and the clash of steel smothered her plea. Ser Ryman buried the head of his axe in Dacey's stomach. By then men were pouring in the other doors as well, mailed men in shaggy fur cloaks with steel in their hands. Northmen! She took them for rescue for half a heartbeat, till one of them struck the Smalljon's head off with two huge blows of his axe. Hope blew out like a candle in a storm.

+.+.+

In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. 

[...]

And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours. 

You might think this song is about lions, but it's also about another cat with sharp claws, who changes coats.

+.+.+

There was a dagger on the floor a few feet away. Perhaps it had skittered there when the Smalljon knocked the table off its trestles, or perhaps it had fallen from the hand of some dying man. Catelyn crawled toward it.

We love mother daughter dagger duos!

+.+.+

I will kill Walder Frey, she told herself. Jinglebell was closer to the knife, hiding under a table, but he only cringed away as she snatched up the blade. I will kill the old man, I can do that much at least.

I believe you.

+.+.+

Robb shifted, and her son struggled to his knees. He had an arrow in his side, a second in his leg, a third through his chest. Lord Walder raised a hand, and the music stopped, all but one drum. Catelyn heard the crash of distant battle, and closer the wild howling of a wolf. Grey Wind, she remembered too late.

+.+.+

"No." Robb's voice was whisper faint. "Mother, no . . ."

"Yes. Robb, get up. Get up and walk out, please, please. Save yourself . . . if not for me, for Jeyne."

"Jeyne?" Robb grabbed the edge of the table and forced himself to stand. "Mother," he said, "Grey Wind . . ."

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. - Jon XIII, ADWD

+.+.+

She pressed the blade deeper into Jinglebell's throat. The lackwit rolled his eyes at her in mute appeal. A foul stench assailed her nose, but she paid it no more mind than she did the sullen ceaseless pounding of that drum, boom doom boom doom boom doom. Ser Ryman and Black Walder were circling round her back, but Catelyn did not care. They could do as they wished with her; imprison her, rape her, kill her, it made no matter. She had lived too long, and Ned was waiting.

+.+.+

"A son for a son, heh," he repeated. "But that's a grandson . . . and he never was much use."

A man in dark armor and a pale pink cloak spotted with blood stepped up to Robb. "Jaime Lannister sends his regards." He thrust his longsword through her son's heart, and twisted.

(Lol, Roose fucking Jaime over with that one.)

(Lol, Walder thinking he'll only trade a grandson.)

+.+.+

Robb had broken his word, but Catelyn kept hers. She tugged hard on Aegon's hair and sawed at his neck until the blade grated on bone. Blood ran hot over her fingers. His little bells were ringing, ringing, ringing, and the drum went boom doom boom.

May I interrupt this moment to request that we do this again in the future? Just like this. I want jugular, not torso.

I especially like the blood over the fingers part. Do that again as well. Full circle.

+.+.+

The tears burned like vinegar as they ran down her cheeks. Ten fierce ravens were raking her face with sharp talons and tearing off strips of flesh, leaving deep furrows that ran red with blood. She could taste it on her lips.

Why did he go with ravens?

+.+.+

It hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb . . . Robb . . . please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting . . . The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood run down her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. "Mad," someone said, "she's lost her wits," and someone else said, "Make an end," and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she'd done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don't, don't cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold.

Final thoughts:

We are now owed a happy wedding. Those are the rules.

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[thebluelemontree]

Hi!!! love you blog!!! I am re-reading AFFC and it's look like GRRM is foreshadowing and setting up a showdown btween Sandor and Sir Lyle crackhall. Do you think they both you met in TWOW?

Hi and thank you!!! Um... Respectfully, my friend, no. I don’t think that’s what’s happening.  

I don’t think Ser Lyle’s (Strongboar’s) statements are a foreshadowing to a confrontation with the real Sandor Clegane anymore than Ser Tanton’s. Well, first of all, Sandor’s story doesn’t have any relevance to Lyle Crakehall. There’s no backstory between them. No conflict to resolve. Strongboar is in it purely for the glory-seeking. Hell, he even wanted a crack at The Blackfish. Hunting notorious outlaws is a means of earning honors and rewards for warriors not currently serving in military campaigns. There’s nothing that feels like his declared intentions have raised the stakes for Sandor in any way. This is a subplot of a subplot involving a tertiary character, which IMO, doesn’t feel like it fits with a redeemed Sandor’s return to the story. But even more than that, there are far better reasons to speculate that Lyle is destined to meet someone else instead.    

The biggest sought after fish in the region are Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, the BwB, and the “Mad Dog of the Saltpans.” Rumor has it that all of these guys are in league with each other, which is not true at all, but this belief will be important later. It’s also important to note why this rumor was perpetuated:

"If [Sandor Clegane] is with Dondarrion . . . ?"

"He's not. Alyn is certain of that. Dondarrion's men are looking for him too. They have put out word that they mean to hang him for what he did at Saltpans. They had no part of that. Lord Randyll is putting it about that they did in hopes of turning the commons against Beric and his brotherhood. He will never take the lightning lord so long as the smallfolk are protecting him. -- Brienne V, AFFC. 

There are grains of truth but a lot of deliberate misinformation going around. Despite word of Dondarrion being killed by the Mountain, he’s still credited with leading assaults on anyone harming the smallfolk even well after he’s permanently dead. The BwB since broke into two factions, and one is now being led by Lady Stoneheart. Rumors of The Hangwoman, The Silent Sister, and Mother Merciless are just starting to enter the mix with their own partial truths. What matters is that the general consensus is that if you rout out the BwB, you find all the outlaw leaders, including Sandor Clegane. 

Of course, Sandor isn’t responsible for the Saltpans massacre. He was misidentified when Rorge stole the Hound’s helm from the cairn. Brienne killed Rorge at the inn at the crossroads while defending the orphans, but the true identity of the one responsible for the massacre is not yet common knowledge outside of the BwB. The Hounds helm found a new owner in Lem “Lemoncloak” of Stoneheart’s band.

"There is nothing good about that helm, nor the men who wore it," said the red priest. "Sandor Clegane was a man in torment, and Rorge a beast in human skin."

"I'm not them.��

"Then why show the world their face? Savage, snarling, twisted . . . is that who you would be, Lem?" 

"The sight of it will make my foes afraid."

"The sight of it makes me afraid." -- Brienne VIII, AFFC. 

Considering that Sandor is believed to be with the BwB, what do you think the chances are that Lem is being set up to be misidentified as the “Mad Dog of the Saltpans” in the very near future? The answer is high, very high. 

To trace Lem’s link to Strongboar, we need to back up a bit to the ASOS Epilogue and the hanging of Merritt Frey near Old Stones. The BwB lured Merritt under the pretense of ransoming his nephew, Petyr Pimple. It ends with the reveal of Lady Stoneheart, her confirming Merritt was a participant in the Red Wedding and Merritt’s hanging. Guess who is holding the other end of the noose when he’s strung up? Lem, identified as a man in a yellow cloak.  

Fast forward to Feast when Jaime has dinner with Lady Mariya (Merritt’s widow) and Lady Amerei Frey (Merritt’s daughter) who is now married to Lancel Lannister at Castle Darry. They have a long conversation about who killed Merritt, the Saltpans massacre, and the whereabouts of the BwB.  

[Jaime] turned back to Lady Mariya. "The outlaws who killed your husband . . . was it Lord Beric's band?"

"So we thought, at first." Though Lady Mariya's hair was streaked with grey, she was still a handsome woman. "The killers scattered when they left Oldstones. Lord Vypren tracked one band to Fairmarket, but lost them there. Black Walder led hounds and hunters into Hag's Mire after the others. The peasants denied seeing them, but when questioned sharply they sang a different song. They spoke of a one-eyed man and another who wore a yellow cloak . . and a woman, cloaked and hooded." -- Jaime IV, AFFC.

Guess who is also sitting at the table? Lyle Crakehall, who will now be on the lookout for the man in the yellow cloak. Surely, if/when he does see this man, he’ll also be wearing the Hound’s helm. 

Strongboar filled his cup again. "Lady Mariya, Lady Amerei, your distress has moved me. You have my word, once Riverrun has fallen I shall return to hunt down the Hound and kill him for you. Dogs do not frighten me." 

This one should. Both men were large and powerful, but Sandor Clegane was much quicker, and fought with a savagery that Lyle Crakehall could not hope to match.

Lady Amerei was thrilled, however. "You are a true knight, Ser Lyle, to help a lady in distress." -- Jaime IV, AFFC.

And uh, Strongboar might have also thought to sweeten the victory a bit because Amerei has a bit of a reputation and he’s seen her flirting with Jaime across the table as she asked him to hunt the outlaws. As Aunt Genna says “you know why they call her Gatehouse Ami? She raises her portcullis for every knight who happens by.”

Then later after Riverrun is sorted out:

Strongboar was the next to depart. He wanted to return to Darry as he'd promised and fight the outlaws. "We rode across half the bloody realm and for what? So you could make Edmure Tully piss his breeches? There's no song in that. I need a fight. I want the Hound, Jaime. Him, or the marcher lord."

"The Hound's head is yours if you can take it," Jaime said, "but Beric Dondarrion is to be captured alive, so he can be brought back to King's Landing. A thousand people need to see him die, or else he won't stay dead." Strongboar grumbled at that, but finally agreed. -- Jaime VII, AFFC. 

Darry’s ownership is currently in limbo since Lancel renounced his lordship and unconsummated marriage to Amerei so he could join the Warrior’s Sons. Genna speculates that Kevan will marry his other son, Martyn, to Amerei instead and claim Darry. But it is worth considering that a second son like Ser Lyle might then hope to wed Amerei himself and gain the lordship of Darry Castle in his own right. What better way to do that than by doing what Lancel could not? He isn’t allowed to kill Beric, but it’s open season on the Hound and he swore as a knight that he would avenge Merrit’s murder by killing the Hound for Mariya and Amerei.   

So where is Lem right now?  He has to be still around the outskirts of the Fairmarket area since that’s where he was last seen attempting to hang Brienne, Hyle, and Podrick. Brienne then shows up at Pennytree, just west of Fairmarket, where she reunites with Jaime, supposedly to lead him back to Stoneheart and the BwB. Brienne tells Jaime that the Hound has Sansa and that they are located not too far away. "A day's ride. I can take you to her, ser … but you will need to come alone. Elsewise, the Hound will kill her." There were two guards present to witness their exchange. 

Darry is half a day’s ride south of the Trident. If Strongboar is in Darry in TWOW, he will probably head north from there after word gets around that Jaime Lannister has gone missing (my guess) while riding out to meet the Hound, his quarry. That would be some powerful motivation to ride fast and headlong into BwB controlled territory, where he would see the man in a yellow cloak with a Hound’s helm. Who would win in that fight? No idea.  Maybe one dies, or both. I could definitely see Ser Lyle looking upon the unburned face of a nobody under the helm and realizing he didn’t bag the big prize he desperately wanted all. 

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions VII

masterlist

This is a fic i’m writing to try and incorporate more description into my works. You will be happy to know that it’s working ;) There are no pre-written chapters so updates are sporadic and i am just as in the dark as you about what happens next. Please enjoy!

Percy Jackson traces the insignia under his fingers, feels the gravelly texture of the stone and the way each word engraves itself into his skin.

militat omnis amans

He hears Jason's words in his head, let's the conversation loop in his mind.

"What are we doing here?"

"I needed to take a walk in the gardens. I can't stay in that stone monstrosity for another second."

"And you wanted me to come with you?"

"If you don't want to be here you can leave." His husband snapped.

He just hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sorry," The Prince mumbled, "I'm just a little volatile right now."

"What does this mean?" Percy figured it was time for a subject change.

"Our motto?"

"Yes, I've seen it everywhere and I've never managed to ask anyone about it."

"Every lover is a soldier."

He looked at the blonde, caught those dull blue eyes. "Really?"

"It's a long story."

"Shall we sit on the bench so you can tell me?"

And then someone had called them inside to go over the details of the King's address that would be happening in the coming week.

"Another time." Jason winced.

Now Percy sits in the garden on a wooden bench, basking in the warmth and protection of an Arrowood tree in full bloom. The soft pink flowers catch on the wind and shower him with petals every so often. The sky is unusually blue for the winter but the chill in the air makes up for it. It is a deadly bite, waiting for any piece of skin to be exposed. The grass is green and cushioning under his feet and the soft cashmere pants his wearing are keeping the icy breeze at bay. He takes a deep breath in. This weather is dopamine in his bloodstream; is full of new beginnings and life.

His fingers brush against the engraved insignia again and he cannot help but wonder the tale behind it. The story of his own kingdom's symbol is one he keeps close to his heart, treasures with every blink of his eyes. His emblem flashes across his mind: a silver sword slicing through a cresting wave, the droplets from it turn bronze in the sun and fall to make their maxim: datum amore ad defendendum. The story is gruesome and bloody and full of honour. Percy's father used to tell it to him on the rare occasion he would tuck him in bed.

There was once a man, brave and strong.

Like you dad?

His father laughed and ruffled his curls. Shh my Starfish and listen to the story of Arroyo the Saviour.

So Percy snuggled into his cotton sheets, a panda pillow tucked under his chin and blinked up in anticipation.

Arroyo was a little boy who lived with his mom and his sister and his sibling, near the ocean. Everyday little Arroyo went down to the docks with his sibling and they would stand there selling bracelets their family made. It was the only way they could get money to eat.

Did their king not give them food dad? His green eyes were wide with horror.

Not everyone is kind my son. Some days little Arroyo and his sibling came back with no money and his mom would smile at them and say "It is okay. Today we eat fish and tomorrow we feast." So they sat down at the table and ate their fish just like they did every night and not once did Arroyo or his siblings complain. For they knew that a tomorrow would come where the feast would be greater than the fish and it was no use leaving today's meal in the hope of tomorrow's promises.

Little Percy frowned, confused at what his father was trying to say. But the King was lost in his own world now, matching ocean eyes far away from this bedroom, in this time and place.

One day Arroyo's mother got sick and his siblings stayed with her while he went to sell bracelets. But when he got home, a small pouch of coins rattling in his pocket, his house was rubble and his family were gone.

Gone? Percy gasped, Where dad? What happened?

His father snapped his head to the present, looked down at his son. They died my Starfish. Someone killed them.

Tears pooled hot and fast in his little eyes, Why dad?

Because Starfish Arroyo's mother was not who she claimed to be and people do not like what they do not understand. But nobody knew that Arroyo was safe, that he had made it out alive. And when he finally grew up, his mother's blood strong in his veins he came back to the village. And there he demanded to see the people who had layed his home to waste all those years ago. The people trembled before him, his might and vengeance a force they could not tame. Arroyo only asked once. And when nobody could tell him anything he smiled with his teeth and drowned the town. His tail creating waves that engulfed the world.

Arroyo was a mermaid? Percy didn't like it when dad told stories, he always left things out and it was confusing to listen to.

He was a beast my Starfish. His father said softly, eyes glittering with excitement, For you see his mother was the Exiled Queen of the Ocean and she had fallen in love with a mortal man. A forbidden romance.

So what happened to Arroyo? Did he kill everyone?

He drowned the village but saved one person. A little girl by the name of Mare for she had looked at him, with his burning anger and broken soul, and offered him the pearl she kept in a pendant at her neck. For her he bowed down and accepted the gift.

Did she become his queen dad?

No Starfish, she was much too young. Instead Arroyo took her to his home deep deep in the waves and she lived there as his friend, as his family. But sometimes Mare had to go to land for she did not have the blood Arroyo did and she could not survive in those brutal waters for long. Arroyo would take her there every full moon and bring her home every new moon. One night when she was due back on land a terrible, terrible force lurked in the water. But Arroyo didn't feel it and Mare could never have known. They said their goodbyes as they always did, promising to see each other soon.

Percy squeezed his father fingers, little lip trembling slightly.

Arroyo dived back in but something slammed into his side. He smashed into the rocks of the village and the whole town quaked. The creature attacked Arroyo, its huge body and spiked tail hitting him everywhere. Mare screamed but there was nothing she could do. And then Arroyo came up to look at her because he knew in his heart that he was not to survive this fight. He waved to his friend, his family through the years and when she waved back the monster rose from the waves and bit Arroyo. He went down so softly it was almost as if he had chosen to sleep. Mare knew the monster would come for her village next and she would not allow it to destroy the only other thing she loved. So she grabbed a sword, sharp gleaming silver, and ran across the ocean. Her feet light and swift against the rolling waves. The creature burst out in a flurry of rage but it was not prepared for the strength of Mare and when it met her sword it let out a shriek so vile the dead curdled. Blood sprayed everywhere as the sword fell from her hand and into the waves below.

Did Mare live dad? He yawned, fear giving away to sleepiness.

Mare is the spirit of the ocean my son. She lives in here. His father tapped his little chest softly before bending down to place a kiss on his forehead.

I hope I'm brave like Mare dad.

You are braver still my Starfish. He whispered.

Percy blinks out of the memory, rubbing at the ache in his chest that accompanied every thought about his dad. It has been more than a decade since that fateful night but the missing never gets easier.

He hugs his knees to his chest and watches two birds fight over a small peach dangling precariously from the tree. Such simple pleasures and petties. There are at least sixty other peaches, just as perfectly red and ripe, on the tree but these birds continue to chirp indignantly at each other. He wonders if it's purposeful. If maybe they just want the connection. It's not really about the peach. It's about having someone to argue against, talk to, be with. Gods, he scowls at himself, he must really be lonely if it's come to this.

The bench suddenly becomes uncomfortable, like every splint of wood is trying to pierce his skin. With a heavy sigh he pulls himself up and strolls towards the stone castle. In the week that he's been here it still hasn't felt any more friendly. He misses his castle, misses the home he has there. But his husband is here so he must be too. At the very least Grover will arrive this afternoon and they can spend some time together. He needs this meeting, needs to see his friend and some semblance of normal. A little voice in his head argues that he's the one who's been straying from his angered promises. The one that's been sleeping besides Jason under the pretense of nightmares. He pushes the little voice deep down, buries it in the darkness where it can shiver and cower without his knowledge or concern. As if his thoughts summon the man, his husband appears around the corner and offers him a swift smile.

"I was just coming to find you."

"You've changed." Is his reply.

Prince Jason did indeed don a new outfit. Perfectly pressed tunic the colour of the sky and a gold chain attached dangling from the small square pocket on his left breast to the first button of the coat. His pants are a deep blue, the same golden threads glinting in the sunlight. But it's the small white rose tucked into his chest pocket that Percy is focused on.

"What is that?"

"When we mourn in the kingdom we wear white roses to signify gentle death and prosperous living."

He nods stiffly, unsure if it's appropriate to ask if he may participate in the custom. Luckily he is saved when Jason's blue eyes pin on him, "Would you like to wear one?"

"Please. This is my Kingdom now too. I feel it would be a great disrespect to not."

The prince looked at him, blonde hair ruffling softly as the breeze caressed their skin and flittered between his dancing fingers. He stood there unmoving while his husband studied him like a Rubik’s cube that needed just the right pattern to fix it.

"Come with me."

They walk together, through the field of poppies bursting with colour, past the grove of fruit trees equally bright and heavy with sweet delights, over the small bridge that marks the Pond of Storms, or at least according to the plaqued waterfall that fed it.

"Why that name?"

"Just before a storm hits the water goes pitch black like storm clouds."

He stares at the clear, brilliant aquamarine of the pond, his rippling reflection staring back and wonders if it's a lie, or a wives' tale.

"You still owe me a story."

"About?"

They cross the bridge and turn a corner.

"About your insignia."

"Why do you like them so much?" Jason turns to him, curiosity burning in his expression, "Stories I mean."

"They're the easiest way to understand the core of something. A language only the lived know how to speak."

"I've heard about yours, your symbol."

"How?" He's the intrigued one now.

"My father liked us to know about the neighboring kingdoms. I never understood it then, always managed to fall asleep in our history lessons, but I guess it's been helpful."

"My mother didn't know yours." He says softly, "She is the Keeper of Worlds so she was able to tell me all kinds of tales but she said she never knew the origins of Caelum."

The Prince shakes his head, "It's only passed down from king to to descendant. Sharing it with anyone is a crime against the kingdom."

Percy's head snaps back in shock, "For telling a story?"

His husband just shrugs like its the most normal thing in the world.

"Why would you tell me then?"

"Sometimes tradition is bullshit."

"But you'd still be committing a crime?"

"Gives life a little thrill." His smile is wicked as he winks an aquamarine eye and steps through the small wooden door built into the hedge.

"Welcome to the Garden of Hearts."

Spread out before them is a sea of roses so glorious in their beauty it makes Percy's soul stutter. There is every colour under the setting sun. Starting with bleach white the roses lay across the field bleeding into cream then yellow then orange then red then pink. Rows upon rows of soft love and romance.

He doesn't manage to hold in a gasp as he drops to his knees and caresses a maroon petal. The tears in his eyes go unacknowledged even when they spill over and water the earth. He's almost certain the flower blooms in his hand.

"This is..." He breathes. He doesn't have the words. They are dust particles violently swept under a rug. They are grains of sand smashed into the earth under the weight of feet. They are simply gone.

"I'm glad you like it." Jason smiles at him and the halo of sun around his head makes Percy weak at the knees.

"Who did this? Who planted this?"

"My sister, Annabeth." The blonde looks around, caught in a time long ago, "She did it in memory of our mom."

"It reminds me of mine."

What he doesn't tell his husband is that more than that, it reminds him of a friend he left far behind. Of a friend he was willing to marry. A friend he was willing to love.

He reaches forward and plucks a satin white rose from the small bush. But as he's pulling away his finger catches on a thorn and suddenly the rose is disintegrating to the floor and those pure white petals are splattered with rubies.

"Fuck." He mutters sucking on the wounded skin in an attempt to stop the blood.

"Here," Jason winces in sympathy, holding out a bleached pocket square.

"Thank you," He offers a gracious smile through the sting of pain. "And I'm sorry about the roses."

"It's okay, the blood will wash off with the next rains."

He just nods and cradles his throbbing digit.

"Are you okay?"

"I've been stabbed before but somehow the little cuts always hurt the worst."

For the first time in well maybe ever, he hears his husband laugh. And it is godlike, a thing of beauty and splendour. Something deep in his chest unfurls gently.

"We'll go inside and get some disinfectant and a plaster on that." Jason promises before bending down to cut another rose, carefully extracting it from the web of thorns and leaves it buried itself in.

"Here," He offers it.

Percy takes a step closer, still clutching his finger, and silently asks if he can put it on for him. Those blue eyes widen slightly, but that's all the surprise the Prince shows. 

They step together and the blonde softly places the flower in his emerald green tunic. Jason smooths his hand over the area distractedly and stares up at him. Their eyes clash in a look of confusion, and curiosity, and something wholly unnatural.

"We should go." The Prince whispers.

He swallows hard and nods but neither make a move. He can smell his husband’s fresh minty breath and see the micro flecks of grey in those eyes. Gods, how has he never noticed how strong his jaw is. How there's the tiniest beauty-mark on the bridge of his nose. And the small crease in his brow that makes his whole face look so much older, look like the king he will one day be.

A cacophonous shriek from above rips them apart in a jump of fright. The low gliding hawk over head seems to narrow its eyes at the pair before flying back to its master. Report on the Princes: they've almost started tolerating each other.

Jason turns away and starts for the carved door once more. Percy stares at his back, trying to gather himself, swiping the borrowed pocket square across his bruising skin. His kingdom's maxim flashes in his mind again. Datum amore ad defendendum. Given in love for protection. He takes a shaky breath before following his husband back to the castle.

The Pond of Storms flushes charcoal. And behind him, where his blood had spilled, the petals of an ice-white rose turn crimson.

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

If you missed it: militat omnis amans means every lover is a soldier; Datum amore ad defendendum means given in love for protection.

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[thelegendofclarke]

Hi! How are you? I don't remember well but is it mentioned in ASOIAF that Nymeria &the wolf pack are hurting smallfolks/travelers or hunting their cattle? I could be wrong but the wolves are seen as menace by some dwellers&travelers? I think there was something in Brienne's POV in Feast but I'm not sure. Would be grateful if you could comment on that

Hey Anon! I am doing well, thank you so much for asking :)

From what I can remember, I think there are four instances like what you are specifically referring to where POV characters hear/are told about a direwolf pack causing trouble. 

1) Arya hears about a wolf pack led by a huge female wolf during her march north with Yoren in ACoK:

“It’s been a bad year for wolves,” volunteered a sallow man in a travel-stained green cloak. “Around the Gods Eye, the packs have grown bolder'n anyone can remember. Sheep, cows, dogs, makes no matter, they kill as they like, and they got no fear of men. It’s worth your life to go into those woods by night.”

“Ah, that’s more tales, and no more true than the other.”

“I heard the same thing from my cousin, and she’s not the sort to lie,” an old woman said. “She says there’s this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell.”

(….)

The man in the green cloak said, “I heard how this hellbitch walked into a village one day … a market day, people everywhere, and she walks in bold as you please and tears a baby from his mother’s arms. When the tale reached Lord Mooton, him and his sons swore they’d put an end to her. They tracked her to her lair with a pack of wolfhounds, and barely escaped with their skins. Not one of those dogs came back, not one.”

— ACoK, Chapt. 5, Arya II

2) The example I think you were referring to in AFfC, where Septon Meribald tells Brienne about a great pack of hundreds of wolves led by a “monstrous she-wolf, a stalking shadow grim and grey and huge” (aka NYMERIA AF!) seen around the Trident:

“Dog keeps me safe upon the roads, even in such trying times as these. Neither wolf nor outlaw dare molest me when Dog is at my side.” The septon frowned. “The wolves have grown terrible of late. There are places where a man alone would do well to find a tree to sleep in. In all my years the biggest pack I ever saw had fewer than a dozen wolves in it, but the great pack that prowls along the Trident now numbers in the hundreds.”

“Have you come on them yourself?” Ser Hyle asked.

“I have been spared that, Seven save me, but I have heard them in the night, and more than once. So many voices … a sound to curdle a man’s blood. It even set Dog to shivering, and Dog has killed a dozen wolves.” He ruffled the dog’s head. “Some will tell you that they are demons. They say the pack is led by a monstrous she-wolf, a stalking shadow grim and grey and huge. They will tell you that she has been known to bring aurochs down all by herself, that no trap nor snare can hold her, that she fears neither steel nor fire, slays any wolf that tries to mount her, and devours no other flesh but man.”

— AFfC, Chapt. 25, Brienne V

3) Danwell Frey complains to Jaime about the growing number of wolves in the Riverlands in AFfC:

After the toast Lady Amerei stopped weeping and the table talk turned to wolves, of the four-footed kind. Ser Danwell Frey claimed there were more of them about than even his grandfather could remember. “They’ve lost all fear of men. Packs of them attacked our baggage train on our way down from the Twins. Our archers had to feather a dozen before the others fled.” Ser Addam Marbrand confessed that their own column had faced similar troubles on their way up from King’s Landing.

— AFfC, Chapt. 30, Jaime IV

4) Also in AFfC, Ser Dermot tells Jaime about finding hundreds of wolves near Riverrun led by a “she-wolf of monstrous size” and Jaime ~specifically~ wonders if it could be Nymeria:  

The next day Ser Dermot of the Rainwood returned to the castle, empty-handed. When asked what he’d found, he answered, “Wolves. Hundreds of the bloody beggars.” He’d lost two sentries to them. The wolves had come out of the dark to savage them. “Armed men in mail and boiled leather, and yet the beasts had no fear of them. Before he died, Jate said the pack was led by a she-wolf of monstrous size. A direwolf, to hear him tell it. The wolves got in amongst our horse lines too. The bloody bastards killed my favorite bay.”

“A ring of fires round your camp might keep them off,” said Jaime, though he wondered. Could Ser Dermot’s direwolf be the same beast that had mauled Joffrey near the crossroads?

— AFfC, Chapt. 44, Jaime VII

As far as commenting on it, I suppose it depends on what you were looking for; but here are my thoughts for what they are worth… I definitely think the “giant she-wolf” is Nymeria, and that she is the alpha of the pack people have spotted. I also think it’s particularly important that not only have other characters besides Arya seen and mentioned the direwolf, but that Nymeria and her pack are doing something distinct and notable: causing problems in places, and for people, who are affiliated with enemies of the North and anti-Stark forces.  

I think there is some really clear and heavy symbolism present that could be indicative of Arya becoming “alpha” of her own “wolf pack,” and potentially becoming a leader/commander of some form of Stark/Northern forces. Nymeria’s namesake was a warrior queen, a skilled general and fierce commander, who led her people on a dangerous journey to safety in Essos after the Rhoyne was conquered by the Valyrian Freehold and their dragons. Nymeria of Rhoynar also played an (obviously) integral role in Nymeria’s War, the campaign where she and her husband, Mors Martell, conquered the various kings of Dorne and united the land under the rule of their combined house, House Nymeros Martell. Now Nymeria the direwolf is also a strong leader and the commander of her own forces, the wolf pack. There is so much about leadership, loyalty, courage, and the “strength of the pack” woven into Arya’s narrative. Additionally, her time with the Faceless Men has taught her so much about discipline, strategy, and resourcefulness, and has helped her to really hone her mental dexterity. I could definitely see all of this as foreshadowing for Arya becoming an effective and formidable leader/commander in her own right. 

I also think it’s more than possible that, like Nymeria, Arya will raise a little hell for enemies of House Stark and the people who betrayed her family. 

[ly-kos]

Ambessa is a woman with no shame around nudity or sex. She knows what she wants and gets what she wants, but similarly she doesn't view nudity as sexual inherently.

[ly-kos]

Thinking very deeply about what it's like to grow up in noxus. And how noxus shapes you. From the outside and from the inside. How every part of yourself has to be so deeply and very noxian if you choose to pledge yourself to them. How they conquer and pretend to save, when they're really just plundering for the resources they lack. Noxus is such an infertile land, sporting such big numbers of people. Constantly expanding. The people are born with the same hunger that noxus was built on.

[ly-kos]

Funny little important mention that my ambessa is a far more imposing presence. Her army is much more oppressive. Piltovers shores are overrun by noxian battleships, definitely a few hundred soldiers at her command.

[ly-kos]

Ambessa is absolutely ableist. Her opinion on people who physically can't stand their ground and fight is very negative, in general. She definitely talked shit about Salo becoming disabled and it's just one of the many reasons she would've never seriously picked him. Disability is weakness inside of noxus.

[ly-kos]

my longest bio to date, ambessa's bio has been added to the carrd.

[ly-kos]

tag drop 1.

I / ic. I could doom your lineage with one look from these eyes II / ooc. the sacrifical lamb III / ask. I'm not the one that came undone ; keeping my cool above your flame IV / memes. I've never known such a hunger ; I count to three for the thunder V / musings. touch me again and I'll cut off your hand VI / self. and I will burn my flesh & form VII / about. I am the feast on the table ; I am the beast in the fable VIII / aes. they will come in such dismay ; that they never did discover where I lay

[ly-kos]

I keep thinking about this part of ambessas bio

[ly-kos]

Piltover is surrounded. Not just Ambessa was encroaching on piltovers territory, but generally noxus desires to take control of piltover. Taking over all of the land surrounding piltover, already having taken control of many areas around shurima and approaching the jungle, makes the port city look and feel smaller and smaller. Noxus is Ever expanding.

[ly-kos]

Ambessas type in men being the smallest men they could find in their roster + tentacle and dragon woman speaks lengths about her character in my opinion

[ly-kos]

It's why she's never really had a partner. She's not too interested in ever settling down with anyone, nor has she ever felt the will to want anyone for more than sex.

My ambessa is definitely aro btw. Her attraction to men and women is purely sexual

[ly-kos]

@strxngertogether

This greatly depends on how much it impacts Isha's ability to stand her ground and fight. She's generally not quite as harsh on mental disabilities, definitely more accepting if you're still a soldier. I can imagine her eye rolling or getting irritated if they're really annoying but especially in Isha's case, knowing her, she'd be a lot more accepting. Just not really for the right reasons.

Ambessa is absolutely ableist. Her opinion on people who physically can't stand their ground and fight is very negative, in general. She definitely talked shit about Salo becoming disabled and it's just one of the many reasons she would've never seriously picked him. Disability is weakness inside of noxus.