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jonsnowunemploymentera · 9 months ago

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Prince Rhaegar as a character often gets some deserved criticism - and a lot of underserved hate. And one of the things that I think he unfairly gets blamed for is Elia Martell's tragedy. Elia's death is one of the primary objections people have towards Rhaegar and Lyanna being depicted as a romance, with readers believing that if they were just tragic lovers, then that diminishes Elia's own tragedy.

I...disagree. It is understandable (and honestly right) that readers would rally behind Elia. Not only was she horribly brutalized and murdered, but her children suffered absolutely terrible fates as well.

However, in trying to center Rhaegar and Lyanna's doomed dalliance in this, a lot of readers are missing the answer that has been already provided to us within the narrative. Not only that, but this line of thinking also ignores the key context in which Elia's senseless murder is portrayed.

As far as the text goes, Elia’s death is laid squarely at the feet of Tywin Lannister and his men, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch. It's House Lannister's burden to bear.

Doran for one, Elia's brother, directly blames Tywin Lannister:

“You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children.”

The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

Even Oberyn agrees:

“Dwarf,” said the Red Viper, in a tone grown markedly less cordial, “spare me your Lannister lies. Is it sheep you take us for, or fools? My brother is not a bloodthirsty man, but neither has he been asleep for sixteen years. Jon Arryn came to Sunspear the year after Robert took the throne, and you can be sure that he was questioned closely. Him, and a hundred more. I did not come for some mummer’s show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane … but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that.” He smiled. “An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. Do you know why that is, Imp?”

Tyrion IV, ASOS

“Is that the game we are playing?” Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. “There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.” “How sad for him,” said the Red Viper. “And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?” “I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father’s bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.” He leaned forward. “It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon’s head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.” “What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?” Oberyn smiled coldly. “Your father gave the commands, yes?” “No.” He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should. The Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. “Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister’s children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.”

Tyrion IX, ASOS

“Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,” the Red Viper hissed. “You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children…“I came to hear you confess.”

Tyrion X, ASOS

Varys and Tyrion both understand that House Martell (but more specifically Doran) hates the Lannisters.

“The Dornishmen thus far have held aloof from these wars. Doran Martell has called his banners, but no more. His hatred for House Lannister is well known, and it is commonly thought he will join Lord Renly. You wish to dissuade him.” “All this is obvious,” said Tyrion. “The only puzzle is what you might have offered for his allegiance. The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe.” “My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition … and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black.” “A council seat is not to be despised,” Varys admitted, “yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister’s murder?” “Why forget?” Tyrion smiled. “I’ve promised to deliver his sister’s killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure.” Varys gave him a shrewd look. “My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a … certain name … when they came for her.” “Is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it?” In Casterly Rock, it was common knowledge that Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and her babe. They said he had raped the princess with her son’s blood and brains still on his hands. “This secret is your lord father’s sworn man.” “My father would be the first to tell you that fifty thousand Dornishmen are worth one rabid dog.” Varys stroked a powdered cheek. “And if Prince Doran demands the blood of the lord who gave the command as well as the knight who did the deed …” “Robert Baratheon led the rebellion. All commands came from him, in the end.” “Robert was not at King’s Landing.” “Neither was Doran Martell.”

Tyrion IV, ACOK

Really, all the nobles know where to look at when assigning blame for Elia's murder. Tywin.

“Prince Doran comes at my son’s invitation,” Lord Tywin said calmly, “not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children.” Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, “But Lord Tywin, wasn’t it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?” None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.

Tywin, for the most part, quite shamelessly tries to disassociate himself from his own moral failings; this is nothing new, because he follows this same MO with squarely blaming the Freys for the Red Wedding even though he played an integral part in planning for it.

“Then why did the Mountain kill her?” “Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark’s van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.” He closed a fist. “Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape … even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of … two? Three? He said she’d kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “The blood was in him.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

“And when Oberyn demands the justice he’s come for?” “I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,” Lord Tywin said calmly. “So will you, if he asks.” “Ser Amory Lorch is dead,” Tyrion said flatly. “Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.” “You may call that justice …” “It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl’s body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father’s bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

Tywin tries to alleviate himself of any responsibility by blaming his men, but the narrative actively calls bullshit on this (through Tywin's own son no less).

So the narrative shows through multiple POVs that Elia's murder is contextualized exclusively as a failing on Tywin Lannister and his men; not only was it a moral failing, but Tyrion also questions if it was politically necessary in the first place. It's also important to note that ASOS is when we really dive into the matter of Elia and her children (mostly through Oberyn), but we also have to remember that this is the same book as the Red Wedding. The Red Wedding, another one of Tywin's senseless massacres that he tries to postulate as politically necessary.

So, we have agreed that the blame and context for Elia's (and her children's) murder is presented through the lens of Tywin as an immoral politician who often makes politically unnecessary moves. But then we ask ourselves, can the responsibility of this tragedy be extended? Well, yes it can. And it has been in the text.

Ser Barristan extends this tragedy beyond Tywin and his men

...to King Robert.

“Prince Rhaegar had two children,” Ser Barristan told him. “Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king.” And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin’s gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar’s children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. “I will not suffer the murder of children. Accept that, or I’ll have no part of this.”

The Kingbreaker, ADWD

Ned Stark does as well.

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.

Eddard II, AGOT

And so does Tywin, who uses Robert's tacit approval as justification for this senseless act.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. “You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert’s cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert’s relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar’s children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.” His father shrugged. “I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

So if we can't extend the blame to Rhaegar, because the narrative doesn't do so either, what can we hold him responsible for? Let's take a step back and look at Rhaegar's culpability in this whole thing.

Was Rhaegar (and Lyanna) responsible for starting the war that would eventually lead to Elia's murder?

No. GRRM doesn't think so. The war actually started when King Aerys murdered the Lord of Winterfell and his heir, a bunch of other northern nobles, and then called for the heads of Robert Baratheon (Lord of Storm's End) and Ned Stark (the new Lord of Winterfell). Aerys broke the feudal contract, and so Jon Arryn declared war.

I don't think I would have stayed loyal to the Mad King. Do I think they were justified? Yes, and no. [...] There was no doubt that the Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and he was abusing his power. And Westeros has no Magna Carta or anything like that. There was no way to handle this within the rule of law. But was what they do justified? Especially when you consider that it was triggered by a personal grievance. The execution of Ned's father and brother was really a thing that radicalized Ned and put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and didn't like the fact that he'd lost his girlfriend. So you know, the personal informs the political.

source

Rhaegar and Lyanna's disappearance was merely the spark - it led to a misunderstanding that caused Brandon Stark to ride to Kingslanding. What really caused the war was Aerys' Targaryens subsequent actions as the king. So if we want to blame someone for causing the chain of events that led to Elia's death as well as her children's, the author himself says to blame Aerys; even though I don't think this is right either because we once again stray from the necessary (and sole) context of Elia's murder - Tywin's bloody hands.

Fine. Rhaegar was not responsible for the war. But surely he is responsible for leaving Elia in King's Landing, right in the clutches of Mad King Aerys. Well, this again, is not true. As far as Rhaegar knew, Elia was in Dragonstone with Aegon and Rhaenys where he left them.

As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon’s turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

At some point, Elia was called to King's Landing. And it was Aerys who kept her hostage there as insurance against possible Dornish betrayal (remember, he was paranoid).

Side Note: Aerys kept another important political hostage in King's Landing along with Elia - Jaime Lannister; this is to deter anyone from trying to blame Jaime for doing nothing. He was a teenager and a hostage himself!

“My Sworn Brothers were all away, you see, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was my father’s son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all.” He remembered how Rossart’s eyes would shine when he unrolled his maps to show where the substance must be placed. Garigus and Belis were the same. “Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I’ll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him … that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash.

Jaime V, ASOS

Ok, fine. So Rhaegar did not abandon her with Aerys then run off to Lyanna. But he should have done something when he came back, right? Why didn't he leave more Kings Guard with Elia and the children?

Well....this is a war. The knights of the KG are important assets on the battle field. Kings Landing, at the time, was not the most dangerous location. The KG were better off at the Trident, as a victory there would protect those who were left behind in KL.

And it's not that Rhaegar didn't do anything. Beyond going off to lead the battle himself, he tried to make moves that would help those who were back in KL (Elia and the children included).

He floated in heat, in memory. “After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him.” Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? “He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins’ men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King’s Landing. Beneath Baelor’s Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself.

Jaime V ASOS

And Jaime's POV once again shows us that Rhaegar banked on victory at the Trident, and was fully expecting to come back to KL and amend the fraught political situation.

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. “Your Grace,” Jaime had pleaded, “let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine.” Prince Rhaegar shook his head. “My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour.” Jaime’s anger had risen up in his throat. “I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard.” “Then guard the king,” Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. “When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey.” Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “When this battle’s done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but … well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return.”

Jaime I, AFFC

So Rhaegar wasn't leaving with no care about what happened back in King's Landing. We don't know what he wanted to do with Aerys, Elia, Lyanna, and the aftermath of the war because he died at the Trident. But we do know that he, at the very least, was planning to do something.

So we can't blame Rhaegar (and Lyanna) for starting the war and we can't blame him either for abandoning Elia in King's Landing with no care about what happens next. So, again, what can we blame him for?

“It's not entirely correct that the Martells stayed out of the war. Rhaegar had Dornish troops with him on the Trident, under the command of Prince Lewyn of the Kingsguard. However, the Dornishmen did not support him as strongly as they might have, in part because of anger at his treatment of Elia, in part because of Prince Doran's innate caution.”

SSM, 09/11/1999

GRRM states that Dorne was angry about Rhaegar's treatment of Elia. What is this treatment, though?

Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap.

Eddard XV, AGOT

Specifically, Rhaegar riding past Elia to crown Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty. Yes, that is a humiliation. And it's undeniable that no one was happy.

The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia’s delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar’s cause…Yet if this were true, why did Lady Lyanna’s brothers seem so distraught at the honor the prince had bestowed upon her? Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, had to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister’s honor…Eddard Stark, Brandon’s younger brother and a close friend to Lord Robert, was calmer but no more pleased.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

But, humiliating Elia is not the same thing as being responsible for her death. The narrative never equates these two things in any way. Elia's death is about Tywin's immoral and blood thirsty political actions. It's about Dorne's desire for justice (or is it vengeance?) which they know they will not get from the Lannister regime. House Lannister's downfall in King's Landing will be brought about by Prince Aegon's rise - Aegon who is proclaiming to be the long lost son of Prince Rhaegar, and who is being supported by House Martell as of now.

We can criticize Rhaegar for some things, but Elia's death is surely not one of them.

#I generally don't like talking about the whole rhaegar-lyanna-elia stuff partly because I don't really care for either of them #but mostly because these topics often devolve into extremes that help absolutely no one #but I just wanted to hop on here and say that blaming rhaegar for elia's death is imo not cannon compliant #the narrative already give us an answer to this - THE LANNISTERS but more specifically TYWIN and GREGOR and AMORY #it's not rhaegar or lyanna or their child Jon to bear any of the blame in this #dorne's decision to join the war against the crown is entirely because it's in opposition to the lannister regime #that's not to say that rhaegar cannot have responsibility for the humiliation of elia - because even grrm says he does #but saying he bears the blame for her murder is just a bit.....😕#also rhaegar is one thing but blaming LYANNA of all people is ummm well #rhaegar targaryen #robert's rebellion #tywin lannister #ser gregor clegane #ser amory lorch #house martell #elia martell #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #pls forgive any spelling and grammatical mistakes its midnights and I'm tired af thanks #my stuff

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penny00dreadful · 3 months ago

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My @steddiebang2024 fic is finally here! None of this would have been possible without the amazing support of my best cheerleader and best beta reader in existence, @hbyrde36 and the girlies constantly keeping me encouraged and cheerleading me on. On top of that, I had the absolute pleasure to be working with one of the most talented artists in this space and all around good bean and very sweet person, @arelliann. I literally screamed when I found out we would be working together for this Big Bang and continued to melt down at every single piece of art they sent me. Beautiful artwork and dividers by them. Go check them out and show them some love! Hope you enjoy this fic as much as I do. 🥰

Part 1

[Part 2] [AO3] [Art]

Down in the meadows, surrounded by fields of blooming flowers and bountiful crops as far as the eye could see, a lone figure on horseback cantered along.

He wove expertly through the rough and small roads and walkways, moving behind farmhouses and grain storage buildings, trying to stay out of sight of the gleaming white castle behind him.

The mid afternoon sun glared down from above, but not as stifling as it had been earlier on in the day. The sweet fragrance of thousands upon thousands of flowers wafted through the air from the Rainbow Sea, mixed up with the gentle rustling of the tree branches and the babbling of the river.

The figure had to duck down low toward his horse's neck to avoid taking a branch to the face as they came upon the riverbed, his gray palfrey barely being led, confident in her route.

Slipping expertly from his saddle, Crown Prince Steven Harrington glanced behind him, knowing well he couldn’t be seen from the castle in his hidden little refuge, but still, he checked every time.

It was a small little curve along the shore of the River Vita, blocked in by trees and shrubbery with enough grass and space for Bimmer to entertain herself while Steve stole however many hours he could, hiding away here.

The river itself wasn’t a terribly fast moving one but it was deceptively deep, a danger to anyone who didn’t know what they were doing. Luckily for Steve he’d been swimming in this river for as long as he had been able.

It might not have been the smartest thing in the world, sneaking out here alone to work off the stress of the day, stealing a moment alone, but he couldn’t help it. It was one of his most favored spots throughout the kingdom and it always helped him to relax his racing mind.

Steve was a strong swimmer, at least that’s how he justified it to himself. He was trained and careful and able.

Not that Robin or Hopper ever saw it that way. But he’d managed to slip away without either of them noticing and he would take the opportunity to swim whenever it was presented to him, though he didn’t think it would be long before his absence was realized.

Being the Crown Prince was full of benefits, but the downside was that he always seemed to be constantly needed, though that was mostly due to his own unique situation, rather than something the first born of other kingdoms had to deal with.

Steve’s father, King Robert wasn’t a cruel or uncaring man, but he was extremely uninterested in ruling.

He preferred the hedonistic and enjoyable parts of being a king. Celebrating, hunting, whoring, drinking.

However, dealing with the day to day? Meeting the people to hear their concerns, acting as an intermediary between warring guilds, overlooking the treasury, directing their surplus crop, trading the flowers, making sure their people were happy, provided for and treated well, organizing the guard...

King Robert didn’t have any time for it, and as such, his one and only child Steve had been shadow ruling the kingdom for as long as he could remember. Almost as soon as the king came to the realization that Steve could, he had set him to it.

It was all Steve had ever really known.

And he loved it. He really did.

This was his home, his kingdom, his responsibility. He wanted his people to be happy, he wanted to maintain the beauty of the Rainbow Sea, he wanted to carry on the Harrington legacy, he wanted to be good.

But sometimes… sometimes it was a lot.

It was a lot all the time, if he was being honest with himself, but he was comfortable with it.

This was what he had been raised for after all and in his short twenty four years, he’d become almost expert at it.

Steve didn’t think there was anything he wouldn’t do for the good of his kingdom.

Bimmer shook her head with a frustrated snort, bringing him back to the present where he had been standing, staring out over the River Vita with her reins in his hand.

“Sorry, girl.” He muttered, patting her muzzle and draping the reins over her neck. “Go on.”

She bumped his hand once and then wandered off to graze.

She was an expertly trained horse, strong and tall with a gleaming light grey coat, almost white in color to go with her bright mane and tail. She was beautiful and one of the many loves of his life.

He rarely needed to tie her off to stop her from wandering, she liked to keep watch over him while he swam.

Steve stripped himself bare, taking care to hang his carefully embroidered doublet and undershirt from a tree branch to keep them as clean as possible.

He didn’t want to give the staff in the laundry more work than necessary.

Most of his clothes had been expertly decorated with delicate flowers and climbing vines, occasionally even with some of the kingdom’s sweetest fruits. His clothes were beautiful and he took great care with them, not wanting the hours of work put into them to go to waste.

The cool breeze brushed against his skin and Steve sighed, feeling the stress of the day get washed away in the current of the river as he submerged himself completely, the shock of the cold enough to inject some energy back into him.

Steve took off, up and down the bank, swimming with and then against the gentle current until his muscles began to ache and tire and the sun had dipped a little lower, slowly bathing the clouds in soft pinks and oranges.

He was catching his breath, sculling along on his back, eyes closed, head tipped to the sun when he heard a throat clearing above him.

Steve was intimately familiar with that gruff and perpetually irked sound and he continued to float for a moment before peeking an eye open to look up at the figure towering above.

Captain Hopper glared down, his arms crossed over his leather clad chest, a deep frown on his face.

He raised an eyebrow at Steve’s complete shameless nudity and huffed, much in the same way Bimmer did when she wasn’t getting her way.

“You’re giving me gray hairs, kid.”

Steve grinned to himself, allowing his eye to slip closed again.

“You’ve been saying that for years, Hop.”

“You’ve been giving them to me for years, Harrington. The hell are you doing out here alone?”

Steve shrugged, the water sloshing around him.

“I’m fine.”

“But you might not have been.”

“I’m a strong swimmer.”

“Not stronger than mother nature. If your royal ass was to drown out here, then where would we be?”

Steve scoffed.

“I wasn’t going to drown, Hop. Don’t be so dramatic. And anyway, haven’t I taught you what to do in that kind of situation? Press on the chest, breathe into the mouth-”

“Steve.” Hopper sighed, closing his eyes as if praying for patience and Steve had to give in.

He knew Hopper was right, knew that it wasn’t exactly the safest thing to be doing, going outside the castle walls alone, to swim in a force of nature alone.

But… it was fine.

It wasn’t like anything exciting ever happened in his life. Things were calm, normalized. Day in, day out, Steve always knew what was coming and he was happy with it that way. He was happy with where he was right now.

“Get your clothes back on, kid. C’mon.”

Steve knew he had to, knew that he couldn’t hide away here forever, but he was feeling a little petulant. He shot Hopper the biggest pout he could muster.

“Five more minutes?”

“No.” Hopper growled at him. “You better be out of that water in the next ten seconds or I’ll take Bimmer back with me and make you walk.”

Steve straightened up in the water, with a performative squawk, shaking droplets from his lashes. He was still deep enough that the water flowed across his stomach, taking some power away from the effect of putting his hands on his hips.

“On my own two royal legs?” He exclaimed in mock outrage. “Hop, how could you? I demand my litter!” He slapped a hand against the water.

“I’ll litter you in a minute.” Hopper scowled. “I’ll bring you back in your very own casket if you keep pushing. Out. Now.”

Steve crossed his arms with a scowl of his own, really hamming it up with a comically furrowed brow but Hopper didn’t waver. Didn’t even crack a smile. So Steve sighed and waded back to the shore, stepping out without an inch of shame in his nakedness.

Hopper wasn’t phased in the least.

“Your nudity doesn’t scare me, Harrington.” Hopper said, leaning against a tree while Steve pulled his britches on over his legs. “Or have you forgotten that I was the one who had to try and catch you as a three year old when you decided you hated clothes and went on a run around the castle? Do you have any idea how irritating a naked, angry three year old is?”

Steve scrunched up his nose but still tried to not let too much of his embarrassment show.

Tugging his undershirt back on over his head, he scraped his wet hair back from his forehead and shrugged his doublet back on, not bothering to lace either of them up.

“Did you happen to notice my absence or did someone send for me?” He asked, tucking his shirt away into his pants.

“I fear Your Royal Highness has had a duty of today slip his mind.” Hopper answered, not cryptic at all, with a little glimmer in his eye.

Steve paused in his movements, trying to remember what he could have forgotten he had to do today.

He’d met with Merill and Eugene about their land dispute. He’d met with one of the Coin Keepers, Ted Wheeler about potentially taking on Erica Sinclair as an apprentice. He’d read the letters and memos sent to him from the various guilds. They’d finally figured out how to streamline their flower trade route through the River Road, what else could he possibly be forgetting-

It hit him all at once.

He let his head drop back with a loud groan.

“Yep.” Hopper sounded way too happy about it. Steve supposed this was some kind of justice for escaping away to swim today.

“Fuck.” Steve whispered.

“Steve you promised!” Dustin’s shrill voice echoed off the stone walls of the kitchens, cutting through the low din of the cooks and servers finishing up their work for the day and beginning to prep what they needed to for tomorrow.

By the time Steve had gotten back to the castle, evening had set in and Dustin was glaring up at him from a wooden table in the corner, his arms crossed and his foot tapping against the flagstone floor like an angry parent.

“I know, Dustin.” Steve sat down at the table as well but almost immediately had to lean out of the way as a kitchen maid was forced to reach across him to get to a stack of bowls piled up and needing to be washed.

Steve handed them over to her with a warm smile and she grinned back at him with a small, “Thank you, Steven.”

“I’m sorry.” He turned his attention back to Dustin. “Things started piling up today and I forgot.”

Dustin scoffed, sticking his nose in the air. “How can you expect to be a good king if you forget your people. Your promises?”

“Dusty!” Claudia exclaimed, hovering like she almost always was, in front of the large suspended cast iron pot, hanging over the constant burning hearth, stirring.

The rest of the kitchen staff reacted to Dustin with varying levels of shocked laughter or badly hidden snorts.

Joyce poked her head out of the walk-in pantry, just to swat Dustin lightly over the head with a rag. “Show some respect!”

“Yeah, Dusty.” Steve gave his shin a gentle kick. “Show some respect.”

Dustin grumbled to himself, something that sounded distinctly like show you some respect before slamming both hands down on the table. “Lucas gets to ride all the time!”

“Lucas is Captain Hopper’s squire. It’s pretty much his job description. It’s different.”

“And he’s learned how to hunt and shoot and bow and he’s not even using a training sword anymore! Hopper’s got him practicing with a blunt metal one now!” Dustin threw his hands into the air, nearly swatting a kitchen boy a year or two older than him in the arm, but the boy seemed so used to it, he just expertly weaved around the flying gesticulations with barely a glance. “I could be a squire.”

“It all sounds very fanciful, Dusty.” Steve leaned his elbow on the table. “But are you forgetting all the other things Lucas had to do to get to where he is? Yes, he gets to ride all the time, but he’s also up at dawn, shovelling shit from the stables. Yes, he’s learned his way around a sword and bow but don’t you remember all the cuts and bruises he was walking around with? Or this time last year when he couldn’t train for two months after he broke his collarbone on his good side after getting thrown from his horse?”

“I wouldn’t have that issue! I don’t even have collarbones!”

“And,” Steve pressed forward, “Lucas doesn’t have time for much else besides those things. He doesn’t get to harass the librarian for hours on end with constant questions.”

Dustin glared at him from across the table. “I’m not harassing Mr. Clarke. He loves my questions.”

“If you were to be in Lucas’ position, you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t study the natural sciences and alchemy like you love to. In addition to that, Lucas has been in training since he was six years old. You’d have a lot of catching up to do.”

Dustin slumped back in his chair, arms crossed again and a frown on his face. He looked disappointed if not a little upset and it just about broke Steve’s heart.

Fuck, he was too soft with these kids.

“I promise, Dusty. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll take you out riding, okay?”

He’d have to shift his schedule around a little. He usually went through his correspondence with the further villages and towns of the kingdom in the mornings, but he could put them off for an hour or two.

“Can I ride Bimmer?” Dustin asked, almost immediately perking up.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask her. But if she’s okay with it, then I am.”

“She’s a horse, Steve.”

“So? Doesn’t mean she has to put up with a little shit-head with no collarbones if she doesn’t want to.”

“But- okay. If she does let me, then I can? I can ride your horse?” There was such a hopeful glint in Dustin’s eye. Steve was powerless to deny him.

He heaved a put upon sigh and hands on his hips, “Yes, okay. But only around the perimeter!” He shouted the last part after Dustin who had shot up from his seat with a whoop and burst out of the room.

“Mike! He’s gonna let me ride Bimmer!”

Mike had only just come in from the gardens, arms full of herbs which were dropped to the floor with an angry squawk, beginning an argument because Steve never let him ride Bimmer.

Claudia giggled to herself as Steve slumped back in his chair.

“You give in too easily, dear.” She said over her shoulder to him.

He leaned his cheek into his fist. “You know what he’s like.”

Claudia smiled again, tuning back to the pot.

Steve was just about to open his mouth to offer some help when there was a great clatter on the stone steps leading up from the kitchen.

Robin nearly ran into the wall, her face was flushed from exertion, one pant leg was untucked from a boot which was coming unlaced and her undershirt was half hanging out of her still beautiful but not quite as lavishly embroidered waistcoat.

She’d caught herself against the archway, her wild eyes scanning the room before Steve felt them land on him.

“Oh shit.” He breathed, springing from his chair in the next second and making a break for it through the kitchen.

“You!” Robin screeched, footsteps pounding after him while the staff scampered, like they were jumping out of the road to escape a wayward horse and cart. “Get your fucking ass back here, Harrington!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Steve burst through the door leading out into the herb garden, Robin hot on his heels. He didn’t know why he’d chosen the damn herb garden to escape to, it was enclosed.

He literally had nowhere to run.

“You call trying to drown yourself in the river not doing anything?” She shouted, swinging a gardening glove she’d picked up at him as she slowly stalked closer while Steve was backed up against an impenetrable stone wall.

“I wasn’t going to drown, Buckley.” He snapped back, trying to catch the glove in his own hand as she swatted at whatever part of him she could reach. “I’m a strong swimmer!”

“Stronger than the river, Steven?” She was able to pop him over the head and he finally managed to catch her wrist and wrench the glove from her grip, swatting her back.

“Get off my ass, adviser. I’m fine aren’t I? Forgive me for needing a moment to myself.”

Robin was trying and failing to bat his hands away.

“You can have as many moments to yourself as you’d like, Your Highness, but not on a dangerous river when no one knows where you are!”

Steve whapped her on the arm and in retaliation she levelled several slaps against his chest.

“The river’s not that dangerous!”

“You wouldn’t even be the first monarch to drown in that river!”

“I didn’t fucking drown!”

“Yet!”

“Is that a threat?”

“You’re damn right it is! I will drown you myself next time, I swear on your stupid hair-”

“Hey! Don’t call my hair stupid, your face is stupid.”

“Ugh!” The sound came out of Robin like some kind of cross in between a scream and a groan. “I can’t believe this is the thanks I get for my years of service!”

“Service, my left nut. You’re a pain in my ass, Buckley.”

Steve still had the glove clasped in his hand, though it was down at his side now and Robin had stuck her hands on her hips, the two of them glaring.

“You’d perish without me.” She sniffed, looking down her nose at him.

“Whatever.”

Robin pursed her lips, tapping one finger against her hip.

“Did you enjoy yourself, at least?”

Steve grinned, swatting her lightly one last time over the shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“You said first thing tomorrow morning, Steve!”

Steve stuffed his goose feather pillow over his head, trying to block out the pinks of the early morning sky invading his room.

The light was barely there, the sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but it was still reflected around the room. The brightness of Steve’s lime-washed and plastered walls seeming intent on keeping him awake, the delicate paintwork of climbing vines and florals doing nothing to dull the glare since Dustin had thrown open the curtains.

“I didn’t mean the ass-crack of dawn, shit-head!”

“You’re up now aren’t you?”

Turning his head a little, Steve peeked an eye open to glare at him.

“I shouldn’t be.”

“Not all of us are royalty who get to sleep in.” Dustin snarked back with his arms crossed.

“Sucks for you because I am royalty who gets to sleep in. Now if you don’t fuck off and come back at a more reasonable hour, I’m telling your mother what happened to her good copper pot.”

Dusting scowled back just as hard before turning on his heel and stomping out.

“Fine, asshole!”

“And close my curtains!” Steve shouted after him, but Dustin had already slammed his bedroom door closed again.

He was still yawning and grumbling to himself as Dustin dragged him by the arm down to the stables. What he wouldn’t give for some kind of injection of energy, some way to wake himself up. He prayed for the day something like that was discovered. Maybe he could talk to the castle herbalist about it. Argyle always had something strange cooking.

Steve squinted against the glaring sunlight, slumping when Dustin finally let go of his arm to shoot off into the stables on his own, shouting at Steve to keep up.

Fuck, how did the kid have so much damn energy?

When Steve finally made his way inside, his senses assaulted with the smell of wood, leather, hay and horse, Dustin was standing in front of Bimmer’s stall, blinking up at her with wide nervous eyes.

“She’s bigger than I thought she was.” He muttered. “I’ve only ever seen her at a distance.”

Steve placed a hand down on Dustin’s head, using the other to pet over Bimmer’s muzzle.

“She’s very gentle. But you don’t have to ride her if you don’t want to. I could take you out on a smaller-”

“No.” Dustin turned to look up at him. “I said I would, so. I will.”

It took a little bit, getting Bimmer to respond positively to Dustin after she had reflected his nervousness initially, but soon enough he was comfortably in the saddle, practically vibrating with excitement. Steve stuck close by, astride Thunder, a jet black stallion prone to wandering but easy enough to pull back.

Dustin’s smile only grew wider as they went on a slow trot around the curtain walls and before long he was in top form, spewing about the latest things he’d learned whenever they passed something that caught his interest.

“Hey Steve, did you know that Mothers Bounty used to spit liquid fire and ash?” Dustin said, pointing over at the lone flat topped extinct volcano that always loomed in the background. “It’s where our pumice stone comes from and the reason we can grow so much here.”

“Yes, Dustin, I did know that.”

“Hey Steve, did you know that Queen Vita drowned in the River Vita,” The river itself babbled up at them. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“That’s a rumour.”

“Hey Steve, did you know that the people of the Abyssal Forest use needles and ink to mark their skin?”

Steve blinked rapidly over in Dustin’s direction while a soft breeze blew through the trees next to them.

“They do what?” He asked, trying not to think too hard about sticking needles into his skin. Willingly.

“Yeah!” Dustin turned to him with the brightest smile. “They have to get the needle in quite deep for the ink to stick, but if they do, their designs can stay there forever! Isn’t that so cool?”

Steve had to repress a shudder. “Yeah, man. Sounds… so cool.”

They continued to ride on in silence for another moment and Steve would have found it peaceful if he didn’t think that Dustin suddenly falling silent after spitting out endless facts was very strange. He was fidgeting ever so slightly with Bimmer’s reigns, like he was trying to build up to something.

“So. El and I have been talking.”

Well, that was never a good start.

Steve just hummed in agreement, waiting for Dustin to continue, reaching up to pluck a leaf from an overhanging branch as they slowly made their way back to the stables.

“She’s hit a blockade on her studies of the Rainbow Sea. You know how she’s been trying to figure out how to grow the Nightbloom?”

“Absolutely not.” Steve didn’t quite snap, but it was a close thing.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You’re gonna ask me to take you and El on an expedition to the Abyssal Forest so El can talk to the people who live there about her flower and so you can harass them about their inked skin-”

“But, Steve! The Nightbloom doesn’t grow anywhere else and no one else I have read about inks their skin-!”

“Over my dead body, Dusty-Buns. There’s a reason their community is so closed off. That forest is dangerous to those who don’t know how to traverse it. Most who try end up lost forever. You think I’m gonna lead both you and El to certain death just for a flower and some ink?”

“Steve-!”

“Dustin.” Steve pulled Thunder a round to a stop in front of Bimmer. “I’ve said no. You’re just going to have to find some more books about it. It’s not happening.” He stared him dead in the eye. “Have I made myself clear?”

Dustin scowled at him, and the rest of the ride back to the stables was frosty but Steve wouldn’t budge.

Dustin could sulk and complain and be as upset as he liked, but Steve was not going to lose him or El in a dark and endless forest just because he wanted to meet some inky people and find out how to grow a flower.

In his haste to get off Bimmer once the stable hand had taken her reins, Dustin’s foot slipped from her stirrup and he fell hard onto one knee.

Steve threw himself from his own horse, swinging down in less than a second but Dustin had already sprang back up, brushing past him with a muttered “I’m fine.”

Steve stared after him, not knowing whether he should feel hurt or indignant. He only wanted what was best for the kids and he understood Dustin’s disappointment at not getting to go on some kind of stupidly dangerous mission but at the same time, did he really expect Steve to put all their lives at risk for no reason?

“Shit, what happened?”

Steve turned to find Robin walking through the stable doors, coming from the direction Dustin had just left in.

“We had a disagreement.” Steve sighed, hands on his hips. “He wanted me to take him and El into the Abyssal Forest.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “What the hell for? Is he trying to get you all killed? And no offense to the kid, but your death might not be the best thing for the future of this kingdom.”

He snorted, a little deprecatingly. “I know, right? Someone should have told my parents to have another kid. Would help to take the pressure off.”

Robin gave a little nod, sucking her lips into her teeth. “Speaking of pressure…”

“I know, I know.” Steve shook his head, giving Bimmer a pat and nodding at the stable hand who was corralling the two horses back into their stalls. “I’m going up to my study now to start on my correspondence so there’s no need to bully me.”

He grinned at her but it slipped from his face almost immediately when she didn’t follow suit, just continued to bite her lip.

“What is it?”

Robin took a deep breath in, like she was bolstering herself.

“Your parents have requested an audience with you.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“What for?”

“I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me.” She shrugged, trying to hide the worry in her eyes, but she was never able to fully hide from him.

The fact that they hadn’t shared what they wanted to talk to him about was not a good sign.

“Well.” Steve put his hands back on his hips. “Fuck.”

Robin nodded.

[Part 2] [AO3] [Art]

This fic will be updated daily! 🥰

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #penny00dreadful #eddie x steve #steddie fanfic #fanfic #steddie fic #royal au #royal pain #arelliann #steddiebang24

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rise-my-angel · 2 years ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

3 - An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, animal death, discussions of child murder and infanticide, brothels, blood and violence, slight canon divergence

Notes: Previous Chapter Here, Things pick up from this point on, I assure you. Series Masterlist Here.

Bright and noisy was the state of Kings Landing as knights poured in from every corner of the most populous cities. All with their shiny armour and polished bravados like they were every bit of confident that they would win the winning gold and glory. They were never your kind of attraction even in your younger years here. The play fighting that so many of these men staked their life on, and of all the days to miss it was yesterdays which had the worst of action.

Not allowing the chance to even truly approach for a question, Ser Gregor Clegane otherwise known as The Mountain had speared the newly knighted Ser Hugh with a lance right through the throat. A space in his armour seemingly perfect for such an action and it felt hard to believe that it was nothing but a coincidence. Nothing in this city was a coincidence anymore it felt.

Walking towards the stands you passed by where curiously your King uncle was absent from his seat. Not a man to miss a spectacle you toyed with the ridiculous notion that he would ride in the event. Even now you could recall a time when you were thirteen and a tourney was on just like this one, you had stopped by the tent King Robert was in and admonished him for being so foolish to join.

It was easier to be comfortable with him in those days. You were sat up on a table, popping grapes into your mouth as you casually would remark that not only would no man dare hurt the King even in jest, but that the armour he was trying to fit in was about fifteen years too small. Were you not so close, he might have gotten you in trouble for such a comment. You couldn’t imagine even having a conversation with him that would allow for fun now.

The King was less miserable, and typically more reasonable and sober back then and you were still full of a youth like pep in this city. You still had the urge to explore the nearly fifty miles length of tunnels hidden about by the former dynasty and the pretty colours, bright sun, and vast diversity of lords and ladies impressed you. You still could walk into this city with a smile, unlike now. Maybe it was the loss of a childhood trait, or more realistically it was the adult understanding that this was a dangerous place and you’d be a fool to think otherwise.

You still wore the pretty dresses, and entertained the noble daughters whom were some degree of friends but the spark was gone from your eyes despite it all. This place and it’s people no longer giving you joy, instead just now a place of bloodshed and the tediousness of cleaning up after your King’s messes. No wonder your fathers scowl had deepened the lines in his forehead so much, you were beginning to think you’d return to Robb in Winterfell, stress having doubled your age on him.

Spotting Renly, he gave you a closed mouth smile of surprise as you pulled your skirt upwards to climb the steps before flattening it all out as you sat next to him. His voice was as light as ever, not that you expected much. “When you asked if I’d be here, I didn't actually expect you to show up. I thought this wasn’t your kind of thing, my dear niece.”

Tilting your head with a slight grimace you relented. “No, I can’t say I see the great appeal in cheering about men whose claims are they are young and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick.”

Nudging you with his arm, Renly smirked. “Shame, you could do with some fun in your life, shake up the terribly boring personality my brother passed onto you.” Glaring with only a flicker of your eyes to the side, you felt back a slight smirk as he just sauntered onward like nothing. “I hope for Robb Stark’s sake you aren’t such a rigid, bore in bed as well. Last thing one of those northerners need is less enthusiasm in their personal lives.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a breath before just passing him onto the truth. “I promised Shireen I’d go see a tournament, so I can write to her all about it.” You dared not look at him, knowing it was something unjustly vile about her on his tongue.

You think you could see him shrug somewhat beside you. “At least it gets you out for once, you and Lord Stark seem to be working way too hard for a King whose never going to thank you for it.”

Watching the very man approach, he nodded with an unblinking stare for just a second before sitting next to his daughter. No one thought your jobs, certainly not Hand of the King’s job was done for the sake of thanks. Not when the King had attended maybe two or three small council meetings over the course of the six years you’ve been sitting in on them to some degree.

Squinting in the bright sun, you shrugged with an otherwise flat expression. “Someone in this family should do the hard work for once, I may as well take over that mantle.”

Chuckling, Renly and yourself glanced over to the King making his own way to his seat finally, the bumbling sack of nerves and apologies that was his squire following suit with the wine. “Don’t be so harsh on our King, takes a lot of energy to fuck as many whores as he does at that age.”

The contenders next begun to ride up. Ser Gregor large and as brutish as ever on a large yet skittish black horse that seemed to be as unsettled as many felt looking at the man. On the other side, dressed in a bright and ornate armour with poise was his opponent. Curls atop his head neat and styled and a rose in his hand as he looked towards the stands near where you sat, for a subject to give it too.

Settling on the young redhead in the front stands a few rows from you, you could see the elation in Sansa’s shoulders as she gently accepted it. “Thank you, Ser Loras.”

Unnoticed to her as he took steps away, glancing up to the rows where you sat he glanced with a pointed glint in his eyes. Renly did not respond, but the words were there as there was solidarity in your silence. You would tease your uncle as he would you, but something between the dynamic you two had build up seemed to have been discussed in the men’s private affairs. Your teasing was never meant as anything but fodder for banter.

The shared look was not romantic, but they tended to stay away in public due to image. Much of the court knew about Renly, you weren’t as sure many, if any at all, outside of the small collection of whisperers, knew enough to say the same about the son of Mace Tyrell, heir to Highgarden.

In the seat below you and one above the two Starks, Lord Baelish turned with a jaunty grin. “A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain.”

Renly beside, did not hesitate. “I’ll take that bet.”

The two knights made their way to each side of the procession as the lower man begun to brag of his confidence. “Now what will I buy with a hundred gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish Wine, or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?”

With a quirk of your eyebrow, you glanced at him. “You could even buy a friend.” The reaction was as satisfying as such a man could emote. A smile as if he knew a secret you didn’t and it only reminded you why bothering to speak to him was so grating. Lord Baelish not allowing for a moment to let another get the one up on him even in words he always felt compelled to have the final look, the final say.

The trumpets sounded out, both riders finally going towards the other as it only lasted for a mere moment. Loras’s Lance striking Ser Gregors shield and pushing him back. The large black horse fumbling in it’s steps as it fell into the wooden railings and knocking the large knight himself to the ground. The crowd cheering with delight as you felt the pride next to you.

Pride in both energy and voice as Renly shouted down smugly, “Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would've been so nice for you to have a friend.”

Standing up and turning to face you both with a quieter tone and a wider smile, you felt the creeping below your skin with a narrowing of your brows. “And tell me, Lord Renly. When will you be having your friend?”

Both of you said nothing, but the glares spoke many things all at once that the man only found amusement in as he turned back. You and Renly glancing at the other for only a moment of seriousness before you glanced back to the waving Ser Loras at the people. “Dare I ask how much gold you two are playing around with to come up with that little stunt?”

Renly laughed, the one thing about you that separated from your father is that you didn’t have to lecture to disprove. If the rich wanted to play with their money like jesting boys, you’d just let them it didn’t matter to you. Leaning in to whisper closer to your ear, “To be fair my dear niece, it wouldn’t have worked as well on any other horse. A man’s animal is only as wild as it’s owner they say.”

The next words didn’t come out of your mouth, as the sounds combined with what image flashed in the side of your vision gathered a mix of yells and stunned silence. Ser Gregor at some point having acquired his sword, took it through his horse’s neck in a single slice. The anger in him wild and untamable as he turned on his opponent, knocking Ser Loras to the ground only just missing from by strikes to his shield.

Both you and Renly standing at the action, Loras was good, but not good enough for that. Strike once twice, enough that you felt the bubbling anxiety in your chest before a growling voice came down from that of the King’s Stand to leave him be.

Striking his sword against his before each pushed away from the other, brother against brother stared the other down in a hatred that spoke more about themselves then it did defence of another. Ser Sandor Clegane, the brother of the giant Knight in front of him with half his face burned in a sear of fire for life. Half the hair on that side barley able to cover it beyond the strands coming from the top of his head that weren’t destroyed.

It wasn’t of any interest to you, nor did it matter, but you recall learning what such a mark meant and how it happened. The two now clashing swords, your eyes narrowed and your nerves grew tense in your muscles. This would get out of hand until more bloodshed arrived but only one man dared to interrupt such a commotion.

“Stop this madness in the name of your King,” The roar from the stands as King Robert stood was strong and echoing. Ser Gregor taking a final swing as the other ducked the blow with a surprising grace as he bent down to kneel, sword stabbed in the ground with a bow of his head.

You felt Renly’s own nerves ease beside you as the Mountain threw his sword to the ground with a raging huff and stormed off. The King yelling to let him go as the crowd parted in a justified terror. The Hound was not a man you enjoyed associating with, found too much pleasure in the necessary harshities of life and considered you to be as aggravating and dull as he did your father. However, he did follow around your wretched cousin for most of his days and that would make anyone angry.

The crowd cheered for Ser Loras and The man most just called The Hound as the smaller and younger raised the others hand in the air of victory, you and Renly sitting back down slowly.

Glancing at him, you could see a brightness in his eyes looking at the proclaimed Knight of the Flowers, and you couldn’t see it within you to give anymore passing jests at the matter. His new close association with the Tyrells struck you as an odd choice, and it pinged a distrust in your brain but you in no way had let it effect what a terror that would be for him.

Renly wasn’t a fighter of any kind, you weren’t even sure he had ever held something longer then a stick to play fight with and certainly had never been hit hard enough to bleed. It’s scary to imagine that you are forced to sit there and do nothing as the man you love has a blade shoved into him.

You perished the thought, you dared not let yourself imagine anything for the two faces which struck you as the scariest.

Sighing to yourself as you walked through the Red Keep you were thankful for the silence, the handmaidens appointed to you were fine girls, good at their jobs, but they were also giggly and chatty and fussed over you a bit too much. Having to tell them day after day, “I can walk myself through the castle halls my ladies, I assure you.”

When you were younger, it was either one of your fathers household guards that would keep and eye on you, or another who wasn’t sworn to serve but seemed to always know when you snuck off. Ser Barristan was in the sworn brotherhood of the Kingsguard, but he took a liking to you the day you arrived in Kings Landing. Not quite good at holding your tongue just yet, but you were still serious and respectful like your father taught you.

It was one day he had been sent by the King to fetch his niece so he could spend some time with you that he came across the most unique of sights. A wide area of Lord Stannis’s quarters had been pushed up against the wall and he stood in the middle with you, only aged thirteen, with a wooden sword in your hand.

He watched for a while, seeing the clever instruction your father was giving you. Ser Barristan knowing your lord father to be a formidable opponent and one that he would not wish to fight on the other side of a battlefield. Yet it wasn’t that style which he taught you.

You were less hacking and slashing, and more about swift movements and carefully timed slices that would cut down faster then your strength could overpower. After that, it was he who often found his way to accompany you when the King had no immediate need of him.

Days like this, you almost missed that. You didn’t want the hen chatter of girls fussing over you like you were the princess but you did miss the company of those who didn’t see fit to treat you like a dainty doll. Sometimes you had wondered if your strange mix of ladylike properness and a tendency to more lordly tasks was because of your father. He gave you and Shireen a lords education and such teachings led you to other interests.

To many you weren’t ladylike enough, but it wasn’t as if you pretended to be anything but the highborn lady you were born as. You enjoyed the company of other women, you took pride in your appearance like many, but you also spent much of your days as a teenager being kicked in the mud and hit with wooden swords by three teenage boys that had no qualms of making you feel like you were fine at being both.

However, as you heard a groan of frustration and tiny pattering of feet scampering beside you as it dodged into the hall, you were met with an amusing sight. Arya was covered in a layer of sweat and grime as well as what appeared to be scratches along her forearms when she stopped. Bending forward to rest her palms on her thighs as she caught her breathe, only flinging back up in surprise when you chuckled.

Slowly approaching, you didn’t bother hiding a smirk. “Such a ghastly state of dress for a highborn girl such as yourself, Lady Arya.” Your chuckle bellowed to a much heartier laugh at how quickly she told you to shut up.

Coming closer to you, she plopped herself down onto a small series of steps as you carefully sat down to join her. “Syrio has me catching cats. If I can be quick enough to catch them, then I’m quick enough to move around my opponents.” You smiled fondly at her, exhausted and covered in scratches that looked unseemly like looking at your once self.

Glancing up, you kept your eye on the black cat hiding around the corner. Peeking it’s one ear’d head out occasionally to eye it’s chaser. “You’re smaller then a normal target. They’re stronger but if you’re faster then them, that’s how you get them before they get you.” When she looked at you with a curious question in her eye, you shrugged looking back to the black cat. “It’s what Jon told me when he started to teach me how to swing a sword.”

Looking up with narrowed brows she asked, “I thought your father taught you?”

Nodding, your fingertips started to tap at the other in a fidget. That memory was still clear as it was when it happened. “Sort of. You were just born, you wouldn’t remember any of it. But it was one night I couldn’t sleep and I ended up wandering into the training yard. I was fooling around with one of the training swords, no idea what I was doing at all. And before I knew it, Jon had snuck up behind me and hit me in the legs with one and I just fell to the ground.”

Arya looking a bit taken back, but you laughed. “We all used to rough house a lot more back then, me and your brothers. He and Robb were around fourteen or fifteen by that point, and I was twelve. So just shy of being too old to pick on girls anymore.”

Moving to tuck her knees closer to her chest she wrapped her arms around them. “So what, he hit you and then..?”

You mimicked the same position, “At first he joked that if I was going to play with swords I should at least learn to not turn my back unguarded. But then he asked if I really wanted to know how to use one.” Feeling far away, the girl next to you disappeared as well as the castle walls around you. “I think we met up after everyone went to sleep for three weeks straight. He taught me some basics, then realized I would learn a bit better if he didn’t teach me how to fight like him, but how to fight against someone like him.”

Smiling to yourself, it was during those nights all to yourself that had done you two in. You weren’t a lady in that moment, and he wasn’t a bastard. You were just you and Jon, your best friend guiding you how to fight simply beacuse you wanted to know and he wanted to teach you. You got roughed up a lot, in the privacy of the night, Jon certainly didn’t shy away from grabbing and throwing you around when you got too cocky.

“When I returned home, my father recognized what kind of cuts and bruises they were, instantly. I never told him who did it, I was scared he’d write to Lord Stark and Jon would get in trouble. But he never got mad at me. No, he figured if I wanted to learn and I already was, then he saw no reason to not continue himself.”

Those days you think were some of the last time you and your father so easily got along. He smiled and laughed during those lessons in his quarters, proud of his daughter so keen on learning the things that helped made him the Lord he was. You hadn’t seen your father so freely smile like the did on those days in a very long time. It was the last time he felt truly like your father, and not more like your Lord.

Lost in thought for more then you assumed, Arya’s voice startled you. “Does it bother you?” Glancing down at her, but she was looking at her feet not you. “Having to act like a lady when you want to do things the boys do?”

Considering for a moment, you saw no reason to sugar the truth. “For a while it did. When I came to Kings Landing for the first time, everyone treated me like a fancy highborn lady when both on Dragonstone and in Winterfell, people just treated me more like who I was already.”

Formality of such high luxury certainly was not common on Dragonstone. Being doted on and cared for like it was a waste of your effort to lift a finger that much was not the way of your father. You didn’t have so much done for you, that you forget what it means to earn your keep through your own means.

“But, I think I had to learn that it wasn’t being a lady that I didn’t want.” Glancing down to her, who now was looking at you with wide eyes. “It was just that I didn’t want to be the kind of lady people like the Queen wanted me to be. I’m nothing like Sansa, but I’m as much a lady as she is.”

Arya looked away quickly, a flash of long hurt in her eyes that you knew stemmed from a sister who didn’t treat her well. “My father wants me to be like her.”

Not even a second hesitation did you spend, “He doesn’t.” Turning to face her properly, you called her name firmly. “Arya. Fathers will always want things for their children, things that they have no way of knowing what we’d like about it or not. He’s not a mind reader, he can’t see the future you want for yourself and sometimes accepting that it’s different then what he envisioned takes time. But he adores you, and he would never tell you to be someone you can’t be.”

Running a hand over her hair, you could feel her trying not to lean into it. Trying to look impassive instead of upset as you continued. “We’re not all going to get the future we dreamed of, but that doesn’t mean your father wouldn’t support your choices no matter how different from Sansa’s they are at the end of the day. He went out of his way to hire Syrio to teach you something he first said wasn’t for girls. He wants you happy, even if it doesn’t lead you to the future he wants or you want.”

“Like how you didn’t get the future you wanted?”

Taken back, you didn’t understand her words but there was no anger or judgment in them as she elaborated. “You didn’t get to marry who you wanted, but every time I see you writing or opening a letter Robb sent you, you still smile in the same way my father does at my mother.”

Not in these open walls would you broach that. Not sure of what she knows or suspected or if you were just projecting onto her. You smiled, and your next words echoed the very thing Jon told you would be what was in store for you. “I’ve known Robb since I was eight. He’s easy to fall in love with.”

Your lips remembering his, and how easy it was to let his touch and his deep words make you lose yourself in him. But also the boyish grins whenever he teased you, the lack of worry you had knowing you could say anything to him and there’d be only support. Even before.

Somewhere in your heart was something far different that needed not thinking of now, or even if you had to think long enough to be real with yourself. But it was locked away for a reason. You couldn’t take that feeling with you, you had to let it go in order to give Robb who you really were. Not just pretend.

That part of your heart, had been captured protectively by the other. That part of your heart now sat heavy alongside that of the wolf who took it with him. That part of love was tucked away safely at the Wall with the one who insisted you not take it with you. You were with Robb now, and no matter what one part of you said, the other part of you yearned to see Robb and actually be happy. You did want it.

“Sometimes the things we want, aren’t the things we originally asked for. But that’s part of duty, how to be just and firm in our choices. Whatever your duty becomes, you have to learn to want it. Otherwise it’ll just eat away at you.”

Glancing up, you saw the little tomcat start to inch away down a stairwell, pulling a smirk as you nodded your chin over to it. “I hope you really want that cat, Arya because he’s about to bolt.”

Her head whipping up, you watched her leap to her feet sprinting down the hall as the little black cat sprinted off faster. As Arya grumbled loudly, you laughed freely.

Much true of words, you didn’t come here wanting to be wrapped in the tendrils of liars and spiders, but as you entered Lord Stark’s room? The very spider sat in the seat across from him, his face somewhat less apprehensive as it was you who entered, not one of mistrust. “My lady.”

“Lord Varys.” You did not sit int he seat beside him, coming to the end of Lord Stark’s desk and leaning back against the wall closest to it, arms crossed as you and him shared a look. His eyes steady and serious as you nodded. “Am I interrupting?”

Cordial and showing no intent, yet he never fooled you. “Not at all, in fact it makes it easier to share such sensitive information while you both are here.”

Lord Stark stared intently at the man, trying to gauge just as you. “Lord Varys seems to think the Kings life is in danger.”

“Oh I don’t think, Lord Stark. I’m afraid I know.”

Your posture couldn’t be more uptight and rigid as your stoned face, but you found no patience in playing nice as Lord Varys did. “Are you speaking of the same kind of danger that killed Jon Arryn?”

A slow nod, his voice was even as if none of this effected him. Despite his very presence and confidence of truth saying otherwise. “If you suspect Lord Arryn was poisoned, it would need to be one that was fast and utterly incapacitating if given the proper dose.”

“If we suspect?” Your emphasis on the doubt of we as in you and Lord Stark had Varys raise an eyebrow to you.

“I assure you my Lady, I don’t act on questions or doubts.” Glancing between you and Lord Stark he settled on what appeared to be the one who relaxed his trust more. “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace.”

Lord Stark rose, pacing in thought towards the open air of his balcony. Your jaw clenching in consideration of the idea. What Grand Maester Pycelle had said, he seemed confident at first it must have been natural causes. If he didn’t sense a foul attribute then this ran deeply, did it not?

Asking who would give it to him, his voice was muffled as he still looked out to the city. Lord Varys playing such a game that irritated you. Telling you what you already know, but in a riddle to avoid any prying listeners to the subject. Never close to a man who says what he means. “Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one, there were so many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy, all he was he owed to Jon Arryn.”

Squire to Knight upon his masters death, and yet once the master was dead soon was the squire turned knight. Something was tying up it’s loose ends but the ends of what? Lord Varys only saying whoever paid Ser Hugh would’ve been someone able to afford such a price.

His hands pressed against the top of his chair, the same yarns spun in Lord Starks head. You looked from him to Lord Varys. “Jon Arryn was Hand for over twenty years, why kill him now?”

Leaning forward, he spoke of something he knew the answer to and yet still forced you and Lord Stark to form more of that very thing on your own. “He started asking questions.”

There was no way of knowing how haunting this meeting would be to you one day.

The ferocity of your Uncle as he called a meeting of the small council himself told everyone whom didn’t already know the newest update, that something was about to explode. King Robert was the most blatant example of the fury of a Baratheon as any of you living now.

Something akin to madness was in his eyes as you watched him arrive, there was a calmness in both Lord Varys and Renly, a curiousness in Grand Maester Pycelle as he arrived and a difficult to read Lord Baelish who was the only other one present then Pycelle who didn’t know. As Lord Stark finally arrived, walking in you wondered how much of a unified front it appeared to be.

Niece and brother on both sides of the King Baratheon and a horrific message displayed. The only time your King uncle did not mince words, was now. Drenched in anger and vengeance that did not sit comfortably in your stomach. He looked at Lord Stark with all the vitriol he could, spitting out in anger “The whore is pregnant.”

Lord Stark hardly finding it in him to care for hiding his disgust but they fell on the Kings deaf rage.

It was like he didn’t even hear the man speak. “I warned you with would happen. Back in the North, I warned you but you didn’t care to hear. Well hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”

You hadn’t been born until two years after the rebellion ended, you’d never seen him in a place that wasn’t in times of peace and yet he ranted and raved as if all three of them were armed and blooded at the gates. This was not a man you recognized, this was a man who spoke of an unborn child with the same he did of Rhaegar Targaryean.

Lord Stark’s tone was deep, cracking with a shocked twinge at who this man was. “You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this.”

The fury grew louder as he spoke. “Honour? I’ve got seven kingdoms to run. One king, seven kingdoms. Do you think honour keeps them in line? Do you think it’s honour that’s keeping the peace? It’s fear. Fear and blood.”

Your father had a similar idea but never in a lifetime would it be in a manner like this. Lord Stannis felt that if people don’t fear you they won’t follow you. That if you can’t scare the wicked away then the good will not stick around to be picked off by what you refuse to pluck out. If you don’t pull the weeds out by their roots with determined force, then they will overtake the garden and nothing good will stay to grow between the rot.

Your voice was rough, as if your throat was scratched in need of water but it was hissed out without much care for hiding the feeling building. “Fear and blood isn’t far from fire, now is it?”

The King turned to his left to look at you, but you did not flinch back at the rage nor the spitting words from his mouth as he said your name. “Careful now. You’re my niece but you watch that.”

“You’re chasing shadows twenty years removed, shadows you can’t even be sure are real.”

Lord Varys far calmer then the other member still glaring your way. “My lady, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to the king and his council?” You both stared at one another, and in just a brief moment so quick you could’ve imagined it, there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Something like what he found in yours unsettled him. The way you know for a fact, he had looked at Lord Stannis many times over. Lord Stark asked who even provided the information. The spider’s answer did nothing but leave the wolf and little stag unconvinced. Or you supposed, given the calm manner which Renly refused to challenge and the true fury in the other?

Perhaps the two unconvinced members of this council, were indeed two wolves.

“Jorah Mormont. He is serving as advisor the Targaryeans.” You huffed a breath of disbelieving laughter at such a spy. As Lord Stark looked as unimpressed, he himself having much more direct reason to press to them that he wasn’t to be relied on.

“Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?” Lord Baelish trying to reason that being a slaver is not the same as a traitor and yet only traitors would betray their loyal family and flee across the sea to escape whatever sentence justice demanded from him. You took no part in entertaining slave traders.

“And if he’s right?”

Glaring once more at your king, “And if she miscarries, if the child dies in infancy? We do not plan murders based on a whispers of what if, your grace.” Your name spat once more but you did not hear. “You mean to fear someone who doesn’t even exist yet so much, that you’d murder it in their mothers womb and call that anything but that of a coward?”

King Roberts face almost red from fury as he once again hissed your name. “I told you to watch yourself or have you forgotten who is king here?”

You stared at him as still as possible, not recognizing this as your uncle. This King was a stranger.

“No, your grace. Have you?”

Lord Stark speaking up before the King took a chance to raise his voice so loud it booms through the seven kingdoms. “The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I’ll fear a Targaryean child the day the Dothraki teach their horses to run on water.”

Looking in shock between you both, he yelled at the others to talk sense into you two.

Lord Varys took his chance, looking to Lord Stark notably as opposed to you both. “I understand your misgivings, my Lord. It brings me no joy delivering this news to the council. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule, must do vile things for the good of the realm, however much it pains us.”

Grand Maester Pycelle took his reasoning, a rational approach to a fruitless endeavour. “I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now to tens of thousands live?”

Tell that to the unborn child you refuse to give a chance, you thought to yourself.

Renly finally spoke, and you felt that weight in your chest plummet down and slam you hard into the floor. “We should have had them both killed years ago.”

Your eyes blazed as you looked at him, across the table. His were with no guilt even. Of course, the brother handed everything he did not earn nor deserve by the brother he now sat beside advocating for what he sees as the least amount of effort for the most unfair of results. Lord Baelish spoke somewhere to your left but you did not break your eyes from Renly.

“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat, be done with it.”

The men here all sickened you but none as vile as Lord Baelish. Not even King Robert’s rage made you feel as if you were covered in the slime from a swamp from his voice alone.

Lord Stark looked his old friend right in the eye. “I followed you into war, twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts, but I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child. I will have no part in it.”

“You’re the Kings Hand, Lord Stark. You’ll do as I command or I’ll find me a hand who will.”

Lord Stark’s only action, was to look his friend in the eye as he pulled off the pin of his position, and tossed it onto the table as it landed with a clunk. “And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.”

The yelling went on for some time. Not a single one of you with the capability to have him calm his fury and the unravelling of what once made him a King fell before your eyes. As some finally begun to leave, you sat in your seat before projecting loudly. “Your grace? A word?”

Room emptied out, he turned to you. His voice quieter but not without it’s rage. “You have a lot of gall to speak to your king like that, girl.”

Not moving an inch your eyes blazed towards him with a narrowed brow. “Speak to you like what? Like you’re a coward afraid of an unborn infant?”

“A coward-”

Slowly pushing yourself up, you braced your palms on the long table. “Tell me, your grace. What happened the last time a half Targaryean babe was murdered along with their mother? How well did that serve us in the long run, or I am I just supposed to assume that House Martell has forgiven all of that?”

King Robert stormed closer, leaning his fists much like you did your palms. With a tilt of his head you felt as if he somehow still towered over you. “They were that son of a bitch’s own children or did you forget that too? You’d have them alive now and walking around doing gods know what just beacuse doing what needs to be done isn’t honourable?”

“This isn’t about honour,” Your own voice finally rose to a proper shout and your uncles head jolted back as his eyes widened for a moment. “I’m talking about justice. You aren’t an honourable King for doing this, but you’re certainly not giving Lyanna justice by murdering women and children who’ve done nothing.”

“She hasn’t been done right by until every member of that family is dead-”

He leaned forward and so did you. “You served her justice. You killed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident, you were the jury and executioner for his crimes and blaming those who weren’t even there or alive for it has nothing to do with Lyanna and you can’t serve a just sentence for something that isn’t even close to have happened yet.”

You weren’t fool to think you got through to him, but he was lost in thought for just long enough for you to find the limit of your handling be reached. “Don’t do anything to people who haven’t proved a harm to you. That unborn child is someone you’ve never met, you have no idea what they could grow up to become, uncle.”

Passing by, he was simmering down as you were when you stopped beside him. “I’m not even telling you what to do about the girl. You choose to kill her, and just her I will not argue. But you cannot punish an infant just beacuse they have drops of Targaryean blood somewhere in their veins. You have no idea what that child could turn into, and if they are a threat? Then we serve out that justice. But only when justice is required.”

You got to the door before he spoke, voice raised to catch the distance as he turned to look at you.

“It doesn’t matter what you two do. If I won’t give it to him, I won’t give it to you.”

You shook your head, a sad sigh breathing from your lips. “I wasn’t asking for it, your grace. And with all due respect, I’m not just your niece. I’m his daughter. Not yours. I wasn’t raised to think you were ever in the right towards him.”

The door which closed behind you sealed you and Lord Stark inside. You have to admit, there was nothing more of a bizarre shock to the day this had been, then being told Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis had visited this brothel together. You father alone being here was enough to conjure an image of him that you wondered how rigid and emotionless you came across to these woman as he likely did.

Lord Baelish had urged you and Lord Stark to visit his establishment, to see the last person Jon Arryn visited before his death.

The girl in front of you, her name Mhaegen, was little more then a child. Younger then you, but you doubted with your heart that were you to ask Lord Baelish how old she was, that he’d give you an honest answer. In her arms, was a stunning baby girl.

Bright green eyes, already the makings of a strong face of dark hair and once more a ping inside you clung. Two actually, but the first one was how much of a Baratheon this little girl was. “She looks like him, don’t she, My lady? She has his nose, his black hair?”

You stood slightly in front of Lord Stark, running your finger down the girl’s cheek. She looked so much like Shireen did at that age, you wondered if you held her, would she yank at a stand of your hair until your head was leaning cuddled against hers. Something your new baby sister had loved to do when you could still hold her at that time.

But this baby wasn’t just a reminder of your sister, it wasn’t even a clue of mystery about how this all connected to Lord Arryns death. No, you were looking at this baby girl, your raging Uncle’s bastard daughter and you were stunned by this was your cousin.

This small girl was your cousin like Joffery was, and yet this girl smiled weakly as you tickled the side of her neck with a coo and a smile. How many of them were in this city alone? How many of them didn’t have a clue that they belonged to a family that could give them life outside of the poverty of flea bottom?

Lord Stark stepped up beside you, as the no doubt teenage girl looked to him. “I named her Barra. Tell him when you see him, my lord. If it pleases you, tell him how beautiful she is?”

Lord Stark said he would, but you both knew it would not matter. The King barley had any love in his heart shown towards his own children, for as many faults as Queen Cersei had no one could doubt the love for her children was a real as her hair was blonde.

Children, babies, that meant nothing to the man your uncle had become.

“And tell him I’ve been with no one else. I swear it my lord. By the old gods and the new. I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. The King was always good to me.”

The gods have mercy what a web of lies King Robert had played this girl up to, to think he’d ever entertain her as more then something to warm his bed and little Barra as anything but a bastard to cast out beacuse highborns like the King had no use for anything that didn’t bear his name or his house’s titles.

Perhaps becoming a Stark was the final nail hammered in that deemed you not one of him anymore.

Lord Stark asked what it was Jon Arryn wanted, and to the only amusement you found that day, she looked almost worried she painted the wrong idea of him. “He wasn’t that sort of man, my lord. He just wanted to know if the child was happy. And healthy.”

He looked at the glee on the young mothers face at her babe, the longing and tragedy deep within your eyes barley hidden by a steel mask that weight you down. He ran his hand over the baby’s foot gently as he spoke, “She looks healthy enough to me. She’ll want for nothing.”

He didn’t have to pull you physically, but it seemed like tearing away from the girl was a cruel task. Just an infant who had a lifetime of poverty and neglect in front of her all beacuse your King Uncle had no taste for self decency. You thought too of the one in the armoury, Gendry. How learning of who his father was, would come as no comfort considering the sort of man Robert Baratheon was proving himself to be.

No child deserved to grow up fatherless, but perhaps knowing who they are could hurt or disappoint then thinking they were just a no one. Joining Lord Stark into the next room where Lord Baelish looked as relaxed as ever and you felt as rigid as ever.

It wasn’t such a place that bothered you, but it certainly was the eyes and ears of who owned it and for what. You wondered if there was even any women in this establishment who didn’t fuck just to fill Lord Baelish’s need for information.

“What do you know about King Robert’s bastards?” Lord Stark had asked him.

With a sly grin, it was impossible to tell which he looked at more. The proper Stark, or you. “Well, he has more then you for a start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed it down as far as it could go.

“How many?”

Lord Baelish glanced at you with no doubt this time, before sliding them back to Lord Stark. “Does it matter? If you fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents.”

Presents being children who will never feel like their apart of a world that respects them.

Lord Baelish gave you no answer as he walked slowly to you, Lord Stark, and the accompanying Jory to the door. Something inside you was screeching and yelling, like it had the answer to something you weren’t quite at yet. It made your heart pound, but it also set your blood alight like it burned. You didn’t know why, and yet what arrived outside for you was it’s own present that intended to ruin.

Members of the Lannister guard surrounded the area, standing two to one of the Stark’s own household guard their spears at the ready. All three of you slowly wandering into the streets slowly, your lips parted as galloping came forth until a horse with Jaime Lannister sat atop came by. “Such a small pack of wolves.”

He was not a foe you could beat, nor were you prepared for such at all kind of fight. Not truly. Jory using a calm reason to such aggression. “Stand back, Ser. This is the Hand of the King.”

The eyes on him were glinting with smugness but anger. “Was the Hand of the King. Now I’m not sure what he is, Lord of somewhere very far away.” Climbing off the horse, he paced every so slowly with a bravado only a true dangerous fighter could pull off like he could. “I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, Lord Stark? Blond hair, sharp tongue, short man.”

Lord Stark steady and calm as you were with a heart that wanted to strangle your lungs from within, “I remember him well.”

Looking to the side at nothing, there was as smirk that seemed to think the northerners cared to play such a game, or you for that matter. “It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn’t know what happened to him, would you?”

He had done none of that, but Lord Stark did not go against his wife’s actions even for a single second as he declared, “He was taken at my command. To answer for his crimes.”

Lannister men shaking their amour as some reached for a better hold on their weapons as the lion pulled his. “Come, Stark. I’d rather see you die sword in hand.”

Moment of anger, or naivety, or just a helpless love you stepped forward with sharp narrowed eyes, “If you threaten my lord again-”

Lord Stark held a hand out, gently keeping you in place and by his side despite the lion pointing his sword with a smirk. “Threaten? As in, I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and see what Stark’s are made of?”

“You kill me, your brother’s a dead man.”

It all happened so fast, Jaime turning to his own, “Take them both alive, kill his men.”

You had little on you, a small blade that you pulled from a pocket that fit in the palm of your hand almost. You sliced it at the weak softness on the Lannister armour of the one who approached you, crying out as blood split from the cut and you ducked to avoid his counter.

You were fast but it was against too many and a woman whom had no armour, only a dress, and no real weapons to speak off as the Stark guardsmen were taken out most by surprise. As you moved, almost punching into the neck of a Lannister one it punctured a wound enough to have him sputter up and fall to the side as Jaime Lannister shoved a small dagger of his own into Jory’s eye.

Stood in shock for just long enough that the rest were overwhelmed until it was them against the two of you. Lord Stark pulling his own sword, you were suddenly hauled backwards by two arms which didn’t feel like armour was behind them.

Lord Baelish’s voice in your ear as you fought against him was a whisper, “You’re far more useful alive then dead, my dear.”

You were not strong, something Jon, Robb and your father all trained to to keep in mind. Even a man like Lord Baelish could keep you as long as he tried harder then your muscles did, but you couldn’t. You watched the two men clash swords, Jaime confident and Lord Stark desperate. You had hardly seen the Lannister fight in person, but he must have been quite good as for the briefest of seconds?

Lord Starks sword pushing him backwards, his eyes flickered between the man and the weapon worried that there might be a possibility that he loses. Just as Jaime lost the upper hand, one of the Lannister guards stepped forward.

With a harsh push, stabbed his spear into Lord Stark’s leg bringing him to his knees. Already shaking, you gasped with what little breath remained as the hold keeping you from the fight loosened. Enough to slip your arm just enough to lunge back into the middle of his chest.

Jaime standing back in hesitation, watching as you rushed to his side, uncaring of the sweat and blood staining your arms and dress as you grabbed Lord Stark to keep him from collapsing entirely. He shook from the pain and blood loss, you shook from the shock and pathetic cry of how useless you were in a place like this gods forsaken city.

Jaime Lannister climbed atop his horse, turning in place as he gave you both one last look that radiated of both anger and something like a sympathy that you wished you could snatch away and shove down his throat until it choked him. “My brother, Lord Stark. I want him back.”

The City Watch had found you like that, a barley conscious Eddard Stark with a spear in his leg as you looked to the dead around you. Killed for what? In retribution of a man who tried to have a ten year old boy murdered twice?

The weakening look in Lord Stark’s eyes as he grew weaker, your lungs did not breathe nor did it feel like your heart ever stopped threatening to explode from your chest.

For a reason you could not explain, the sight or the light and angle making his appearance remind you so close to that of his son, you for a brief second imagined Robb in his place.

You didn’t understand why your mind conjured such an image, but you knew it horrified you all the same.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #jon snow #robb stark #ned stark

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leupagus · 8 months ago

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I firmly believe Stannis is the Westerosi equivalent of the dad who hates cats, doesn't want to get a cat, makes a big deal about not liking the cat, and ends up being the cat's absolute favorite (except instead of a cat it's a huge fuckoff direwolf with boundary issues)

The door to the workroom opened and Ghost bounded inside, snuffling at Stannis's hands. Lady Stark, following behind, narrowed her eyes at him as she closed the door.

"You fed him something recently, didn't you?" she said. Ghost, finding nothing, gave a disapproving huff and flopped down by the fireplace.

He had, but that was besides the point. "What are the Knights of the Vale doing here?"

"Just don't give him chicken, we had a terrible problem with the henhouses when they were puppies," she said absently, and circled round to sit at her chair on the far side of the work table. "I brought them here for you."

Stannis, still standing, paused. "For me?"

"Yes, for you. I can't bend the knee, Your Grace. Not yet. But I'm not entirely useless."

"Of all the adjectives I've thought to describe you with, 'useless' has never been one of them."

She smiled at that and looked down at the papers strewn across the table. "Littlefinger — Lord Baelish," she corrected, "had plans for the North. Marrying my Aunt Lysa and becoming Lord Protector of the Vale wasn't enough for him; he wanted more."

"How much more?" Stannis asked as he took his seat again. He was already well able to guess the answer.

"Everything," she answered, a distant look in her eye that Stannis did not like. "He wanted to marry me off to the Boltons. I think the plan was for you you to come sweeping down from the Wall and either take Winterfell or kill out enough of the Bolton forces to weaken them. At which point Littlefinger could come riding to my rescue with the Knights of the Vale. He'd have a ward at the Vale who looked to him for approval, and a new Lady of Winterfell who'd be grateful to him for saving her from monsters twice over." She nodded at his moue of distaste. "Yes, well, he always did consider me one of his cyvasse pieces, to be moved around the board as needed."

Stannis had avoided Baelish at King's Landing, insofar as he could while both of them served on Robert's Small Council. But he well remembered how Baelish spoke of women, how effortlessly he used them and used them up. What damage had he inflicted on a young, friendless girl while he'd had her in his custody? No wonder Lady Stark had fled from him at the first chance of escape.

If that's what had truly happened. The story from the Riverlands was that Baelish had been killed by his own men, and there was no reason to doubt it — such a treacherous man would have succumbed to treachery sooner or later. But Lady Stark had proven herself capable of surprising things, these past months.

It didn't bear thinking of too closely. He cleared his throat. "The Vale, the North — if Baelish wanted the Iron Throne, he'd have needed more than two kingdoms at his command."

"The Riverlands probably would have been next," said Lady Stark with a frown. She pawed through the papers and pulled out a book. "I've been going through the maester accounts, such as they are, from the time my father left Winterfell until now," she said, flipping through it. "There are gaps, obviously, but Maester Wolkan's been keeping remarkably faithful records. Including copies of every raven scroll." She passed the book over to him, tapping at a particular passage. "This was sent to Roose Bolton from the Twins, only a few days before we began the siege."

"'The Blackfish traitor has stolen Riverrun from us. In the name of fellowship among the new Lord Paramounts and the victors over House Stark, we ask for your aid in catching this damned fish and roasting him on a spit.'" Stannis set the book back on the table with the peculiar urge to wipe his hands clean. "Walder Frey was always a craven. Wanting everyone else to fight his battles for him."

"He didn't even have the courage to murder my brother himself," said Lady Stark, taking back the book and closing it with a snap. "Though I've been told it was his son who murdered my mother. A great warrior family, clearly. Plus he doesn't know it's 'Lords Paramount' and not 'Lord Paramounts.'"

Stannis had seen flares of temper from Lady Stark before (on any number of occasions), but the icy rage in her voice gave him pause. Not for the first time, he considered how very merciful she had been with him, in the end. A man responsible for his own brother's murder, when she herself had lost her brother to the very basest of treachery — what might she have done to him, if he'd been anyone other than the rightful king?

Even as he wondered, he knew that his titles had not been what had stayed her hand in judgement. The Starks had never been particularly pragmatic, mostly to disastrous ends, and for all her intelligence Sansa seemed to have inherited a fair helping of the Tully pig-headedness on top of the Stark romanticism. King Stannis would have had no better luck against her judgement than Lord Stannis or Ser Stannis or even Goodman Stannis; it had been for some other reason she had spared him. He wondered when the bill would come due, and if it would ever be in his capacity to pay it.

Lady Stark had continued on. "I haven't found any record of a message sent back to the Twins, but I doubt the Boltons sent one. Lord Bolton were never much for rousing himself for anyone else's interests, even before he betrayed my family. I sent a raven to House Mallister of Seaguard; he sided with Robb during the war, and the Mallisters have always been loyal to House Tully." This time she handed over a scroll, flattened out but still curling slightly at each end.

It was only a bit longer than Walder Frey's, and about as useful. Blackfish holds fast; they have supplies within to last two years or more, and the siege set by the Freys will not last half a season. Brynden has not called the banners of the Riverlands, for Lord Tully is still hostage to the Freys. But if Lady Stark should call, Mallister will answer.

"'If Lady Stark should call,'" he repeated wryly.

"Lord Mallister bounced my mother on his knee when she was a babe, Your Grace," she said, equally wry. "All the oaths of fealty in the world can't replace the bonds of family and friendship between the northern Houses, even those not in the North itself."

"So I am beginning to understand," he said, handing the scroll back. "So the Twins are undefended at present."

"Most likely — Lord Frey is still there, but the bulk of his army will be at Riverrun." She leaned forward. "I've spoken with Lord Royce; he swears to me that Lord Arryn will bend the knee if you lead the Knights of the Vale and your own army and take the Twins. From there, you'll be able to break the Frey's siege at Riverrun — you'll have both the Vale and the Riverlands in a matter of months."

It was a fine strategy, but Stannis couldn't help but feel vaguely offended by it. "Do you mean to tell me that because you refuse to bend the knee, or promise any of your own army to my cause, you've delivered the Knights of the Vale and a promise of House Arryn's fealty as a...consolation prize?"

Lady Stark shrugged. "I suppose so," she admitted. "But a prize, nonetheless. I've only known Lord Royce since I was a guest at the Eyrie, but he seems an honorable man."

"He's an able commander, which is more to the point," Stannis contradicted absently, frowning down at the desk as he mulled it over. Two thousand men was no very great sum — but the Knights of the Vale were one of the best cavalry forces in the kingdoms, for all that they rarely strayed outside their mountains. With the Knights, Stannis's army could divide and take each half of the Twins in a pincer. It would be over nearly before it began.

"Of course, how foolish of me to consider such petty things as honor," grumbled Lady Stark.

Stannis ignored that. "Which leaves the Iron Islands to deal with. Has Lord Greyjoy sent any word?" Even the honorific stuck in his craw. Balon Greyjoy, the only other "king" to survive the war. Stannis had regretted the man's existence ever since the Greyjoy Rebellion.

Lady Stark shook her head. "Nothing. We've beaten back the last of the Ironborn holdouts, but I doubt they'll begrudge us that. My father always said the iron price never spent well. And they rightly blame the Boltons for whatever might have happened to Theon."

Which was still a mystery, so far as Stannis could tell. Theon Greyjoy had not been found among the dead at Winterfell, nor at the Dreadfort. If he'd escaped, there'd been no sightings reported. "No doubt you'll wish to execute him yourself, if he's found, but it would be better—"

"Execute Theon?" she said, her brow furrowing. "I — no. I don't wish that."

He leaned back in his seat. "You surprise me, my lady. I wouldn't have thought you squeamish after all this time." Perhaps that was his answer: she'd spared himself and Lady Brienne not out of principle but cowardice. In a way, it might be a relief: or at least it would be easier to understand.

She looked away. "Father did always say that whoever passes the sentence should swing the sword."

"That's not an answer. Your kindness does you credit, my lady, but if you show too much your people won't fear you. Which means they won't follow you, when the time comes." He'd said the same thing to her brother, more than a year ago when they'd argued over the fate of the wildlings and the drawbacks of mercy. The Lord Commander hadn't heeded the advice; was it a Stark family failing?

It must be, for Lady Stark sighed in frustration and said, "I don't want to be feared, Your Grace. And though you've failed to notice, I'm in no need of anyone following me anywhere. I'm staying—" She broke off and shook her head. "This always happens," she muttered, an odd smile tugging at her mouth.

He frowned. "What always happens?"

"This," she said, gesturing vaguely at the distance between them. "We can't go five minutes without arguing about something."

"That's not true." She sighed again and he reconsidered. "Perhaps if you didn't contradict everything I said."

"Perhaps if you had sisters, growing up," she countered. "My mother always said Arya and I were more trouble than all five of the boys put together." Her expression darkened and Stannis followed her thoughts — Theon had been one of those five boys. Raised alongside the rest of them, within these very walls.

"I thought you would want him dead," he admitted. "More than anyone else in the North."

She got to her feet and went over to the window, resting her arms on the sill as she looked out onto the courtyard. Stannis rose and joined her: down below were a dozen carts piled high with hay. All around them men and women were busy unloading the bales and stacking them up in a corner, where more workers took them away in a brisk line deeper into the Keep. Each cart was in the courtyard only a few minutes; when it was empty, the driver mounted up again and drove slowly out through the great gates, replaced by another cart yet more heavily laden. Supplies from the Northern Houses, to lay in for the oncoming winter.

"I don't want Theon dead," said Lady Stark after a long while observing in silence. He glanced over to her, but she was still looking down at the carts. "I don't want anyone dead, Stannis — there's been so much death. And more coming, if what Jon told you about the White Walkers is true."

She'd never called him by his name before; indeed she didn't seem aware she'd done it. "I believed him," he replied. "I still do. Your brother didn't seem the sort to make up stories."

"He always was honest to a fault," she said, turning to look at him at last. Her blue eyes were bright — tears, unshed. "I wish he'd come with you."

So did he, he realized. Not for his skill in battle or his perception or bravery: but only so his sister would not look so devastated at his loss. "He took an oath to the Night's Watch," he said, cursing at himself for his clumsy words even as he did so.

"I know that," she huffed. "Five minutes without arguing, is that really so difficult?"

"Evidently," he conceded, and she laughed. A watery sound, and she pressed the heels of her hand to her eyes quickly as she turned back toward the table, but laughter nonetheless.

#got: bitches get stuff done #game of thrones motherfuckers #I do love sansa accidentally endearing herself to stannis via being a bitch and also a fellow grammar pedant #what's that meme?#'whatever souls are made of yours and mine are the same stuff (derogatory)'#that's the vibe I get from these two assholes #anyway for reference this is post-regaining-winterfell #and post-stannis-and-brienne-being-dumb-and-sansa-yelling-at-them-a-lot #it's way after most everything else I've posted but I just finished this scene and was very proud of it #so as ever: you're welcome/I'm sorry

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fly-boy-in-the-sky · 3 months ago

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Banana Fish & Films PART 1

Recommendations based on aesthetics, themes, decade etc…

These are just my personal recommendations for movies similar to Banana Fish. Most of these films from 1960-90s revolving around some sort of street culture gangs, prostitution, trafficking, drugs all that good stuff…also a few of these I haven’t watched in years so the description may be a little off LOL

TAXI DRIVER 1976

“All the animals come out at night. Whores, skunk-pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies. Sick and venal.”

Taxi Driver follows a former Vietnam solider insomniac 26-year-old Travis (Robert De Niro) who takes night shifts as a cab driver in NYC. The story is mostly told through his inner monologue, where he talks about his his loneliness and depression along with telling stories of his interactions with his customers. He crosses paths with a 12-year-old prostitute Iris, (Jodie Foster) whom he tries rescuing from her situation.

This film was recommended by Yoshida.

THE WARRIORS 1979

“Since when the fuck are you a diplomat?”

After being blamed for the killing of a rival gang leader in the Bronx, the Warriors have dozens of New York City street gangs are out for revenge battling over turf that ranges from Bronx to Coney Island where the Warriors reside.

STREETWISE 1984

“No one to tell you where to go or what to do.”

A documentary on Street Kids in Seattle Washington 1984. Many of the teenagers do dangerous hustling gigs to survive on the streets.

There’s a story about a girl who is a prostitute with her mother’s knowledge, though her mother is against the idea she doesn’t stop her since it brings in money. Similar situation with Ash and his father..I have seen people say “I can’t believe his father would do that!” or that it’s totally unrealistic. Unfortunately these terrible things do happen, and even though Banana Fish is fictional and exaggerated, the crimes featured are really not far off for the time. Child exploitation human trafficking was huge, that’s one of the reasons how the milk carton missing persons started back in the eighties, especially through mafia/politicians in Europe.

PLATOON 1986

“Any way you cut it, Barnes is a fucking murderer.”

This movie was recommended by Yoshida.

Chris Taylor (Charlie Seen) leaves university to enlist in the Vietnam war. His experiences in combat fades his idealisms of what war is really about and what the troops are fighting this war for. His two Sargents, Barnes (Tom Berneger) and Elias (Williem Dafoe) are constantly arguing together over their morals. Barnes has violent approaches and believes the villagers are harboring Vietcong, while Elias has a more sympathetic view of the villagers and the war. Their disagreements began putting soldiers up against each other, as well as the enemies.

CRUISING 1980

“They told me that there was some... special assignment... and that I was right for it.”

Steve Burns (Al Pacino) is tasked to go undercover cop as a gay man infiltrating New York’s S&M clubs for a psychopath who’s been violently killing homosexuals. Steve begins immersing himself in the subculture and club hopping. While this is going down, he becomes increasingly distant with his girlfriend and the police forces homophobia becomes more apparent as the case goes on.

KING OF NEW YORK 1990

“ I spent half my life in prison. I never got away with anything, and I never killed anybody that didn't deserve it.”

The biggest Kingpin of the underground Frank White (Christopher Walken) just got released from prison. He’s different from most gangsters though. He shares his benefits with the poor, opening children’s hospitals and protecting the wellbeing of underprivileged citizens. Though the streets are much tougher than before. The mafia, Chinatown and Colombian gangs are running the streets partaking in child human trafficking and prostitution, unnecessary killings and racketeering. Frank’s not a fan of how they do business, and puts an end to it.

One of my favorites..the ending even ends similar to Banana Fish and there’s these two gay ass cop partners that the one kisses him towards the end (no spoilerrr) Frank is a super morally grey gangster and very similar to Ash in his beliefs. Film features many famous 90s actors. Must watch.

THE OUTSIDERS 1983

“I used to talk about killing myself all the time, man. But I don't wanna die now. It ain't long enough. Sixteen years ain't gonna be long enough.”

Based on the novel of the same name, an American classic most of us had to read in middle school.

A teenage gang in 1960s Oklahoma, the Greasers have constant clashes with another rival gang the Socs. When Ponyboy (C. Thomas Howell) and Johnny (Ralph Macchio) get into a brawl that leads to the death of a Soc member, they are forced to run away into hiding. With help from their friend Dally (Matt Dillon) he tells them a place out in the rural part of town they can hide until the situation dies down. They are eventually forced to return back to their town after a tragic incident with Johnny happens, and they’re subjected to the consequences of their violent lives once again.

#80s anime #80s manga #ash lynx #banana fish #eiji okumura #asheiji #internet archive #mitcharchivebf #akimi yoshida #90s manga #movies #movie review #80s movies #90s movies #gangster #film #crime #thriller

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tiredtogepi · 4 months ago

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A Lady & Her Hounds

Chapter 1

The Hound x Fem!Reader (Jon Arryn's daughter; Sabrina)

This chapter contains: Fluff | Brat

Word count: 1146

*this is my first GOT fan fiction. There are many chapters with mostly fluff, some angst, and mature content ;) I hope that someone will read it and enjoy it*

Dogs have always fascinated you. The way they create bonds, love their humans, their loyalty, and friendliness. Being Jon Arryns daughter was not bad but, you felt left out most of the time since he married Lysa and their son was born. That's when the dogs came into your life. Some Lord from the north had offered puppies from his newest litter as a gift for your name day. Your father wasn't so happy about it, but he let you keep it so you could finally have some company. Initially, you had 3 dogs, but a few years later after contacting more breeders, you found yourself with a pack of 15 dogs.

You took your time to train them for protection during the conflict between the Mad King and Robert Baratheon. They obeyed you well, they looked out for you, but most of all they loved you, their loyalty was not questionable and they would give their life to save you. When the war was over your father was named hand of the king and you all moved to the Red Keep. You had begged your father to take at least some of your dogs but he wouldn't allow it. Luckily you were close enough to the working staff in The Eyrie to make sure they were well taken care of.

When you arrived at King’s Landing, King Robert made sure to have a feast in honor of the new hand and his family. He was a big man that had fought many battles and almost kept his intimidating factor intact, if it weren’t for the extra pounds he gained. What surprised you is that there were still knights protecting him.

During the feast the conversation around you was like some faded-out noise, but someone caught your attention. A tall man with a half-burned face and intense brown eyes. It was interesting to look at him, especially because of some slight facial expressions he made out of distaste for the conversations around, just like you.

"Ha! Lady Sabrina, I know about your interests in dogs but I didn't realize this one would interest you too!" Robert pointed at the man he was able to catch you staring at.

You blushed as that man at glanced at you.

"Pardon, your grace, I was lost in my thoughts." You gave a quick answer trying to avoid more embarrassment.

"No need for apologies. Sandor Clegane is a tough-looking man, our Hound!" The drunk king was getting more excited by the second. "Tell me Lady Sabrina, if we put your hounds and my hound in the arena against each other, which one would take the win?" He laughed and started choking on his own wine.

"I don't think any hound deserves to be put in that situation. I find it very distasteful, your grace." You stood up and bowed to the king while he laughed at your audacity.

"Are you leaving us already?" Robert inquired

"Yes, your grace. I am unwell, maybe I had too much wine." You were already slowly stepping away.

"Would you like to see the master?" your father asked, he always worried about your health, since your mother passed away from a terrible and silent disease, so any little symptom you had he would take it very seriously.

"No, thank you father, I will go get some books at the maester's library. If I need assistance I will call for it." You bowed lightly and as you turned your back the king spoke

"Clegane, accompany the lady to her chambers. She had a little much to drink and might need some help"

You rolled your eyes as you walked out and heard footsteps coming towards you. This is what you hated about this place. Too many people telling you what to do, keeping an eye on you, and always so many rules on what you can and can't do.

As you went to turn into the next hallway to the library Clegane stepped in front of you. You tried to go around him but he kept blocking your way.

"The king said to take you to your chambers." His tone was serious.

"Maybe you misheard it, but I need to get some books first." You tried to move away from him. He ignored you and kept blocking your way.

You tried to keep yourself composed since you had much anger and frustration stored inside you since coming to the king's landing. You took a big breath trying for the last time to be polite.

"Ser.."

"I'm no Ser."

"Seven hells! Let me go get my fucking books!" Maybe it was the alcohol that gave you the courage to raise your voice and push him out of the way, even though he didn't move an inch.

Apparently, that was amusing enough for him to let you go while he subtly smirked. You finally reached the maesters' library. The Hound stood by the entrance. You took a book, then another, then as you went to get the third book you had an idea.

"Ahem!" You cleared your throat to get his attention. He looked at you as you repeatedly looked down at the heavy books on your arms and up at him.

He scoffed and took your books.

''Wait, there's more!" You said it innocently as he turned around and you decided to find 2 of the heaviest books on forestry and wildlife and put it on top of the pile he was already carrying. He grunted.

"We can go now!" You said innocently, knowing you were being a brat. Honestly alcohol didn’t give you the best ideas.

As you found yourself by your chamber door, Clegane leaned down to hand you the books. You stepped away, opening the door to your room.

"Could you place them inside on that little table?" This time you weren't trying to be inconvenient, but there was no way you could carry all that weight.

Clegane tried to hide his annoyance. He thought you were just another spoiled highborn like Joffrey or Cersei. He placed the books on the table aggressively. You tried to walk around the table to accompany him to the door, but you tripped on one of your book piles on the floor and fell with your face on the big man's chest. He didn't move, you put your hands on his chest to get back on your feet.

"Pardon me...I think I've had too much to drink." You mumbled. He looked down to stare at you making sure you didn't get hurt on his armor. You blushed and looked away as he started to leave.

"Why do they call you The Hound?" You asked as he was almost by the door. He stopped and didn't turn around.

"Why do you care?" He grunted.

"What should I call you then?"

"Don't call me." He replied as he walked away.

#sandor clegane #the hound #sandor the hound clegane #game of thrones #got #fanfic #sandor x reader

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sansa286 · 3 months ago

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Nothing About Aegon's Character Was Ruined.

I'm sick of this argument.

Nothing about Aegon's character was ruined. He assaults women in F&B. A terrible, virtually irredeemable character having a lot of nuance and a likable side is kind of a staple in ASOIAF and Game of Thrones. Doubly so in GoT. Aegon and Robert Baratheon engage in virtually the exact same behavior, the difference is that HotD is okay with framing Aegon's awful acts as awful and his victims as actual human beings, while Robert's behavior was played up purely for laughs in GoT sans when it came to things that were plot-convenient, like him wanting Daenerys assassinated. In fact one could argue that Aegon and Robert are meant to be parallels of one another - both are kings, drunks, rapists (of both women and girls), abusive husbands, negligent fathers, and shitty brothers. However most of the fandom rides for Robert and even stands behind the show-only decisions, while Aegon is somehow a ruined character despite the fact that he's not even all that different from his book counterpart.

Aegon is an interesting character. He's portrayed expertly by Tom Glynn-Carney. He is fascinating to watch on screen. He has some of the best scenes of season 2. Yes, he sucks and is a bad person morality-wise, but just because a character isn't morally good does not mean they can not be enjoyable. Well-done antagonists are one of the many treats of fiction.

Robert vs Aegon is a great litmus test and testament to how narrative framing is everything. Because had Aegon been framed in the exact same way Robert was, Rhaenyra wouldn't stand a chance fandom wise, and that makes me so sad to think about.

#get helaena a boar #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #rant #asoiaf #hotd

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melrosing · 4 months ago

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A hypothetical question about Jamie. I know that while he was killing Aerys, the Moutain and the other guy (can't remember his name) were climbing up the walls to Maegor's Holdfast to reach Elia & the kids. And i know there's quite a distance between the throne roon and their chambers, and Jaime couldn't have reached them in time even if had an inkling of what Tywin was planning.

All this being said, in the hypothetical scenario where Jamie kills Aerys earlier, goes to check up on Elia and her kids and stumbles on Clegane - his father's bannerman! - trying to kill them, I assume he'd try to save those that are still alive.

Should he manage to save one of the kids, what would he do with them afterwards? (I think Rhaenys might be more likely considering she hid under Rhaegar's bed if I remember correctly.) Would he hand the child over to the rebels? Would he assume they'd be sent to the faith/the citadel/the wall? Would he be numb due to everything that happened that day and just dissociate and the choice is ultimately taken from him when others arrive on the scene?

Would he take the kid and flee to Dorne to bring them to safety, out of some sense of guilt and fear of what robert/his father might do to them? Would he take the child to Essos ?

I guess the question in summary is what would Jaime do if he managed to rescue one or more of Elia’s family?? and basically idk, I think given how relatively naïve he is at this point, he may have made a terrible mistake and taken them to Robert et al, not really thinking of what might happen next. Jaime does think to himself whilst sitting the throne that he could make anyone king at that point, whether it be Viserys, Aegon, Tywin etc etc (before deciding to leave it to fate) - it doesn’t seem to occur to him that if Tywin were to take the throne there would be implications for the lives of the Targaryen children, hence I think why he leaves Elia and the kids in Maegor’s - he thought the true threat to them was Aerys and Aerys is gone. Jaime seems to think it’ll be a conversation (albeit perhaps a heated one) and that while the children may be removed from succession, he assumes diplomacy would spare their lives. Ned kind of seems to assume the same?? he’s obviously shocked too when Robert goes on to basically approve the murders

and idk I often think about how Jaime has seen relatively little of what his father is capable of at this point. he knows about Castamere but that was before he was born; he knows about Tytos’ mistress but he was barely a year old; Tysha and the Red Wedding are still to come, and the Tysha incident ofc somehow shocks him as well. but yeah in between Jaime’s childhood and the sack of Kl, Tywin has mostly been an exhausted politician terrorising his youngest son out of his eldest’s sight. Jaime knows Tywin’s a dreadful guy but has hardly seen it in practise, it’s largely hypothetical and he clearly finds the man hard to anticipate. the older characters at the time of the Rebellion and those who knew Tywin only by his worst deeds may not have struggled the same way. Jaime knows him as his dad and maybe that obscures it somewhat (although certainly not in an affectionate sense lol)

#ask #jaime lannister #tywin lannister #asoiaf

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book--brackets · 5 months ago

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The Hollow Kingdom Trilogy by Clare B. Dunkle (2003-2005)

For thousands of years, young women have been vanishing from Hallow Hill, never to be seen again. Now Kate and Emily have moved there with no idea of the land's dreadful heritage--until Marak decides to tell them himself. Marak is a powerful magician who claims to be the goblin king, and he has very specific plans for the two new girls who have trespassed into his kingdom . . .

Healer and Seer by Victoria Henley (2000-2004)

Legend states that there exists a mighty sword that makes its possessor invincible to his enemies. But there is a curse on anyone who lifts the sword for conquest. King Kareed of Archeld goes after this sword anyway, winning it from the King of Bellandra. When he returns home from battle, he brings his daughter, Princess Torina, two special gifts. One is a unique crystal, in which she can view visions of the future. The other gift is the defeated king’s son Landen, who is to be her slave. Torina immediately releases Landen, who becomes a member of the King’s army and her close friend.

But trouble is lurking in the kingdom of Archeld and people are accusing Landen of plotting against the King. Torina refuses to believe he would hurt her family. Then Torina begins seeing deadly visions in her crystal. Can she save her father’s life and the future of her kingdom?

Fire and Hemlock by Diana Wynne Jones (1985)

Polly has two sets of memories...

One is normal: school, home, friends. The other, stranger memories begin nine years ago, when she was ten and gate-crashed an odd funeral in the mansion near her grandmother's house. Polly's just beginning to recall the sometimes marvelous, sometimes frightening adventures she embarked on with Tom Lynn after that. And then she did something terrible, and everything changed.

But what did she do? Why can't she remember? Polly must uncover the secret, or her true love — and perhaps Polly herself — will be lost.

The Medoran Chronicles by Lynette Noni (2015-2019)

Dreading her first day at a new school, Alex is stunned when she walks through a doorway and finds herself stranded in Medora, a fantasy world full of impossibilities. Desperate to return home, she learns that only a man named Professor Marselle can help her... but he's missing.

While waiting for him to reappear, Alex attends Akarnae Academy, Medora's boarding school for teenagers with extraordinary gifts. She soon starts to enjoy her bizarre new world and the friends who embrace her as one of their own, but strange things are happening at Akarnae, and Alex can't ignore her fear that something unexpected... something sinister... is looming.

An unwilling pawn in a deadly game, Alex's shoulders bear the crushing weight of an entire race's survival. Only she can save the Medorans, but what if doing so prevents her from ever returning home?

The Girl With Silver Eyes by Willo Davis Roberts (1980)

Everyone knows that Katie is different. The first thing people notice about her are her shiny silver eyes, but even they are not her most unique feature. If they paid a bit more attention, they might see that, as well as being very clever, she attracts strange activity. She can move her glasses back up her nose without touching them and freak weather seems to follow her around. However, when Katie moves to a new neighbourhood, she begins to realise that she might not be the only one who has the ability to do unbelievable things. Join Katie as she struggles to learn more about her place in two very different worlds. A magical story about a magical girl, with powers almost as sharp as her sensational silver eyes.

The Song of Albion by Stephen R. Lawhead (1991-1991)

From the dreaming spires of Oxford, Lewis Gillies drives north to seek a mythical creature in a misty glen in Scotland. Expecting little more than a weekend diversion, Lewis finds himself in a mystical place where two worlds meet, in the time-between-times--and in the heart of a battle between good and evil. The ancient Celts admitted no separation between this world and the Otherworld: the two were delicately interwoven, each dependent on the other. The Paradise War crosses the thin places between this world and that, as Lewis Gillies comes face-to-face with an ancient mystery--and a cosmic catastrophe in the making.

The World of Riverside by Ellen Kushner (1987-2002)

On the treacherous streets of Riverside, a man lives and dies by the sword. Even the nobles on the Hill turn to duels to settle their disputes. Within this elite, dangerous world, Richard St. Vier is the undisputed master, as skilled as he is ruthless—until a death by the sword is met with outrage instead of awe, and the city discovers that the line between hero and villain can be altered in the blink of an eye.

The Tarot Sequence by K. D. Edwards (2018-present)

Rune Saint John, last child of the fallen Sun Court, is hired to search for Lady Judgment's missing son, Addam, on New Atlantis, the island city where the Atlanteans moved after ordinary humans destroyed their original home.

With his companion and bodyguard, Brand, he questions Addam's relatives and business contacts through the highest ranks of the nobles of New Atlantis. But as they investigate, they uncover more than a missing man: a legendary creature connected to the secret of the massacre of Rune's Court.

In looking for Addam, can Rune find the truth behind his family's death and the torments of his past?

Bardic Voices by Mercedes Lackey (1992-1997)

With the proper schooling young Rune would be one of the greatest bards her world has ever seen. Even if only she knows it. Unfortunately, the daughter of a tavern wench at the Hungry Bear, no matter how talented, doesn't get much in the way of formal training. What she does get is frustrated.

One night, to back up a brag she probably wouldn't have made if she weren't so mad, she went up to play her fiddle for the Ghost of Skull Hill. Everyone knows that no one who has ever gone up Skull Hill has come down again. Not alive, anyway.

But when the ghost appears Rune Strikes a bargain: if the ghost tires of her playing before morning her life is his; if he is still listening when the sun glints over yonder hill she will have earned both life and a sack of silver. Let the music begin...

The Squire's Tales by Gerald Morris (1998-2010)

Life for the young orphan Terence has been peaceful, living with Trevisant, the old Hermit in a quiet, isolated wood.

That is, until the day a strange green sprite leads him to Gawain, King Arthur's nephew, who is on his way to Camelot hoping to be knighted. Trevisant can see the future and knows that Terence must leave to serve as Gawain's squire. From that moment on, Terence's life is filled with heart-stopping adventure as he helps damsels-in-distress, fights battles with devious men, and protects King Arthur from his many enemies.

Along the way, Terence is amazed at his skills and new-found magical abilities. Were these a gift from his unknown parents? As Gawain continues his quest for knighthood, Terence searches for answers to the riddles in his own past.

#best fantasy book #poll #the hollow kingdom trilogy #healer and seer #fire and hemlock #the medoran chronicles #the girl with the silver eyes #the song of albion #the world of riverside #the tarot sequence #bardic voices #the squire's tales

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dyannawynnedayne · 7 months ago

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Which character parallel do you like the best?

Propaganda is encouraged!

Jaime and Criston

Ask and are rejected by their lovers to marry them in spite of their situations

"I am sick of being careful. The Targaryens wed brother to sister, why shouldn't we do the same? Marry me, Cersei. Stand up before the realm and say it's me you want. We'll have our own wedding feast, and make another son in place of Joffrey." She drew back. "That's not funny." "Do you hear me chuckling?" "Did you leave your wits at Riverrun?" Her voice had an edge to it. "Tommen's throne derives from Robert, you know that." "He'll have Casterly Rock, isn't that enough? Let Father sit the throne. All I want is you." He made to touch her cheek. Old habits die hard, and it was his right arm he lifted. Cersei recoiled from his stump. "Don't . . . don't talk like this. You're scaring me, Jaime. Don't be stupid. One wrong word and you'll cost us everything. What did they do to you?"

ASOS, Jaime VII

That night, Septon Eustace reports, Ser Criston Cole slipped into the princess’s bedchamber to confess his love for her. He told Rhaenyra that he had a ship waiting on the bay, and begged her to flee with him across the narrow sea. They would be wed in Tyrosh or Old Volantis, where her father’s writ did not run, and no one would care that Ser Criston had betrayed his vows as a member of the Kingsguard. His prowess with sword and morningstar was such that he did not doubt he could find some merchant prince to take him into service. But Rhaenyra refused him. She was the blood of the dragon, she reminded him, and meant for more than to live out her life as the wife of a common sellsword. And if he could set aside his Kingsguard vows, why would marriage vows mean any more to him?

Fire and Blood, Heirs of the Dragon-- A Question of Succession

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Jaime and Arys

The legacy of Criston Cole affects them both

The best and the worst.” So one of us is like to live in song. “And a few who were a bit of both. Like him.” He tapped the page he had been reading. “Who?” Ser Loras craned his head around to see. “Ten black pellets on a scarlet field. I do not know those arms.” “They belonged to Criston Cole, who served the first Viserys and the second Aegon.” Jaime closed the White Book. “They called him Kingmaker.”

AFFC, Jaime II

“The first Viserys intended his daughter Rhaenyra to follow him, do you deny it? But as the king lay dying the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard decided that it should be otherwise.” Ser Criston Cole. Criston the Kingmaker had set brother against sister and divided the Kingsguard against itself, bringing on the terrible war the singers named the Dance of the Dragons. Some claimed he acted from ambition, for Prince Aegon was more tractable than his willful older sister. Others allowed him nobler motives, and argued that he was defending ancient Andal custom. A few whispered that Ser Criston had been Princess Rhaenyra’s lover before he took the white and wanted vengeance on the woman who had spurned him. “The Kingmaker wrought grave harm,” Ser Arys said, “and gravely did he pay for it, but…” “…but perhaps the Seven sent you here so that one white knight might make right what another set awry.”

AFFC, The Soiled Knight

#fave parallel poll #round one #group b

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sandorslady · 1 year ago

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His Lady of the North

Sandor x Stark Reader Warnings: nothing major, maybe some swearing, heavy fluff, let me know if I missed anything. *This is my first time ever writing anything like this so please pardon any mistakes I may have made. If you have any POSITIVE feedback on how I can do better please let me know, thanks<3

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Sandor Clegane was never the type of man to show his feelings or any emotion at all for that matter. Other than just his regular air of brooding. Though behind the mask intended to keep people away was a sad man who longed for a girl he could never have.

Lady Stark never wanted to come to King’s Landing, but being the eldest daughter of Ned Stark meant that she had certain duties to her house. So when the King came to Winterfell, and his son Joffrey asked for her hand in marriage she could not refuse. So now here she was walking with Joffrey through the castle, listening to him discuss whatever terrible thing had his attention that day. Walking just behind them was Joffery’s sworn protector Sandor Clagane. The Hound.

In the few weeks since she’d arrived with her father and sisters, she’d come to enjoy Sandor’s presence. When Joffrey was not around Sandor never left her side. Standing in silence while she read or walked through the gardens. She had only ever said a few words to him and yet he was always so gentle with her.

Sandor couldn't help but fall for Lady Stark. She was kind, gentle, and caring. She always made a point to speak to him and make him feel human. It pained him to watch her be tortured by that cunt of a boy. Joffery was awful, in some was worse than the hound himself, so when King Robert died and Ned Stark was declared a traitor, and executed, Sandor became on high alert.

Sandor knew that Joffery would find some way to punish Lady Stark for the "crimes" of her father to feed into his sick pleasures. So he made sure that he had one eye on her at all times.

Now they were standing in the throne room, Sandor next to Joffery, and Lady Stark in front of them with her two younger sisters. The new King was tormenting the lady hoping to use her to get a reaction from her older brother Rob.

"What can I do to show Rob just how insignificant his house really is to the crown?" The King Joffery said, drumming his fingers on the arm of the iron throne.

"I know!" he shouted with an eery excitement.

"We could batter the pretty little face of his eldest bitch sister." He sneered, waving his guards towards her.

That is where Sandor drew the line. He'd had enough. He stalked toward the guard who was making his way to the girl and threw him to the ground.

"The man that touches her loses his hands." He growled.

Joffery began laughing and clapping incessantly.

"I know just what we'll do! Every hound needs his bitch!" he cackled.

Sandor turned and gave him a quizzical look.

"It's really a quite simple plan hound," Joffery said, leaning forward.

"You will marry the Stark bitch so that Rob Stark will know just how low he and his family really are." he sneered.

Sandor's eyes widened. What had he done? He had doomed her to a life of embarrassment.

"Escort the Starks back to their room. We have a wedding to plan." Joffery said with a nauseating smile.

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Let me know if this is even worth a part 2. Thank you for reading!!!!

#gameofthrones #the hound #sandor clegane #sandor x reader #Sandor x stark reader

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atopvisenyashill · 8 months ago

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Dany's reaction at Viserys's death and later on her guilt over it is perfectly understandable and is one of more tragic parts of her story. As someone who believes in her show ending, I despise that particular scene is taken as her foreshadowing for madness. She was an abuse victim and anyway she reacted was valid. And I don't even think she will ever truly go mad because I believe targaryen madness is extreme obsession with any particular thing (be it dragons or power or prophecy or supremacy or incest) so that all targaryens (even 'normal' ones like aemon, rhaegar, jaehaerys) have this tendency and it can go on to become full on lunacy if not curbed.

Yeah, like what Viserys represents is Dany's ability to completely recast her own memories, a way of showing memory is very fallible (i've mentioned that a lot with Ned, Bran, Theon, Sansa, and Dany is a big example of that as well) wherein she really recasts herself as having so much more agency while she's Drogo's wife than she actually had (something we see echoed in a lot of the wives of very domineering husbands see also: alysanne and jaehaerys, or the annoying way barth talks about alyssa velaryon). I think dany (and the audience) really put the blame for this on her when in reality like......genuinely what was she supposed to do here. Viserys violates a very deeply held social and religious custom of the Dothraki by baring steel in Vaes Dothrak, and Dany is one (1) person with not a lot of influence, no martial training, and no dragons. Beyond that, he has physically assaulted her while she's pregnant once already and now he's holding a deadly weapon to her face. Like. What was she supposed to do to stop this even if she wanted. What on earth could she have done, really. "Please kill him in a slightly more humane way" Drogo is not fucking listening to that and like, it's not to say that the way Viserys dies isn't violent as fuck but like...the alternative is like, dragging him out of Vaes Dothrak to cut off his head, which may technically hurt less but is probably much more traumatic on the whole, or just straight beating/strangling him to death which is also like, incredibly violent and will take much longer anyway. So it's sort of like, well even if she wanted to save him she has no ability to do so!

And beyond that, imo, it's the same as Cersei killing Robert or Arya killing the boy in the stables. Do I worry about the way becoming an out and out murderer will affect them psychologically? Yes, because regardless of why you're killing someone, taking another person's life has a massive affect on your mental and emotional state for a reason. But do I blame either one for this action? No not even a little. Arya is panicked, she knows it's likely if she's caught at best she's a hostage, but who even knows what's going to happen if she gets caught because she's not totally sure what's happening right now. She panics, she kills the boy mostly accidentally, she runs off. That's clear cut self defense right there. And as for Cersei, again, what the fuck is she supposed to do. Her husband is beating and raping her and she has no recourse for this because it's not a crime for a husband in general to beat and rape his wife, and it's certainly not a crime for the King to do it. Her father will not help her because he does not care. If she lets Jaime kill Robert, they are completely fucked. Yeah, hell yeah she kills him, she doesn't have another option if she wants his abuse of her to stop.

It's the same here. Yeah, I think Viserys being murdered in Dany's name has a massive and terrible affect on her psychologically because it's another nail in the coffin of "safety and strength = violence and cruelty" conflation in her mind, and this is her last tie to home, it's her last tie to her family, to her house, to her mother, to Westeros, and that "last dragon" sequence that follows I think is her psychologically accepting that like, To Be The Last Dragon, To Be Any Dragon means you must accept violence and cruelty as your first and main tool to protect yourself (and violence and cruelty can certainly be useful tools but they should not be your only ones. but how could she ever know this when every mentor she's ever had has shown her that the only effective tools are to be cruel before someone else can be cruel to you). But Viserys' death is not her fault, it's not anything she could have stopped, and it doesn't inherently doom her because she is purposefully detaching her emotions from this moments and dissociating over the fact that her last known living relative was just brutally murdered by her husband in her name in front of her, and then her husband promises her what she has always wanted which is a home and a protector and an advocate.

The person responsible for Viserys' death is first and foremost Viserys himself for being a complete idiot and secondly Drogo's fault. Dany cannot stop it, she has nothing to do with it, and she shouldn't be blamed for feeling some sort of relief that a man who regularly physically, sexually, and psychologically abuses her is dead. Who gives a shit man, she literally murders her slave several chapter later.

And as for the Targaryen madness, it's like......idk why it's just so hard to grasp for so many people (this isn't a dig at you, specifically anon, obviously) that mental illnesses often run in a family, incest often makes this worse because you're not introducing anything new to the gene pool, and trauma of any sort can set off severe mental illness issues in just about anyone. As I said before, I think Dany's problem (very similar to Rhaenyra which is why I again find it mind boggling that people will be like "nyra is a tyrant but dany is a hero" when these women have the exact same issue) is that she has consistently conflated cruelty with strength in her mind. She has very little control of her temper, and often rationalizes her actions and the actions of the people around her as being necessary despite there being a lot of other, better options available. She doesn't think long term as much as she should. She has access to a "weapon" of sorts that can do an extreme amount of damage in a very small amount of time, with the added problem that she has an emotional and magical link to that weapon. The dragons only seem partially sentient and that "part" that is sentient is like a manifestation of their dragon rider's id.

That's just so much cooking in her mind, psychologically, and she's kind of born already screwed because her family has a history of mental illness. And tbc I don't think this means that like, mentally ill people should be shut out and barred from society because um, that means MY ass would not be allowed out but it does mean that in a world where certain people are granted certain massive privileges like access to an army or fantasy nuclear launch codes, and there's no check to that power, and there's no safety net, and everyone is using you and your dysfunction for their own gain, the worst parts of your psyche can be enabled until there's a snowball effect of violence. this isn't even like, something just this series; look at the large amounts of disabled and mentally unstable monarchs we've had in history, ask any millennial on lexapro with divorced parents how they feel about their mom's drinking or their dad's bipolar disorder, and you'll get the idea that without support, in a society that enables our worst behavior, someone with a family history of illness can find themselves in a really fucked up situation and that's just like, the tragedy of being alive.

Dany, Theon, Cersei, Ned, Tyrion, Aerys, Aegon II III and IV, on and on, they are of course responsible for the harm they cause, and they are all really screwed from the start and that's tragic, but it's not inevitable that they fail or lose their minds so much as it's an indictment of the way we treat each other as a species.

#THIS WAS A RANT SORRY ALSDJFSD #dark daenerys #daenerys as orestes #viserys the beggar king #gender politics in asoiaf #brothers and sisters #marriages in asoiaf #anti daenerys targaryen #again NOT ANTI BUT SINCE I'M BEING CRITICAL. I'M THROWIN GIT ON THERE.#we all know during this reread i have come to be very loving towards her an dhave had that epiphany that most of my ire #is in fact towards the show version of her who just objectvely sucks as a character and also the annoying fans.#i am the dany understander actually.#asks #anons

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catofadifferentcolor · 1 year ago

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Terrible Fic Idea #73: Game of Thrones, but make it Lancelot

As anyone can tell you, I have a terrible weakness for female Jon Snow fics, largely because a female heir to the throne allows you to combine claims and explore facets of Westeros in a way that can't be easily done with rival male claimants. And then I thought: if I can have an Anne Boleyn, why not a Lancelot?

Or: What if Jon Snow, the most famed knight of his generation, had an affair with the Queen of Westeros?

Aka: The Lord Protector Fic

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon, except Cersei Lannister dies in childbirth with her second child, Myrcella. This bothers her husband not at all and, despite Jon Arryn's urging him to remarry to secure his throne, Robert works his way through a series of brothels and mistresses before being forced to marry 14-year-old Margaery Tyrell in 297 in exchange for House Tyrell paying off some of his debts.

When Jon Arryn dies the following year, Robert and his court head north as per canon. While there, Sir Barristan takes interest in young Jon Snow - perhaps he sees something of Rhaegar in the boy, maybe he imagines he sees something of his presumed uncle Arthur Dayne's talent in him - and offers to raise him to knighthood with the aim of one day serving in the Kingsguard.

Ned is unable to turn down the offer, and reluctantly allows Jon to accompany them to King's Landing.

Jon quickly gains a reputation for gallantry and chivalry to rival either Barristan the Bold or Arthur Dayne - he intervenes when Joffrey tries to have Lady put down, makes a strong showing in the Hand's Tourney, and preforms several small acts of standing up for ladies/smallfolk/children that are quickly mythologized. Within two years he's knighted, with some asking if he will be allowed to take up the Sword of Morning as a presumed bastard of House Dayne.

Princess Myrcella is particularly taken with him after he defends her from Joffrey and demands he become her sworn sword until a position opens up in the Kingsguard.

His actions also draw the attention of Queen Margaery, who is even less happy in her position as queen than Cersei was but much better at hiding it. At first it's just friendship couched in a courtly love tradition, but by 299 they're lovers. When she gives birth to Prince Harlen a year later there's no doubt in her mind that Jon is the father.

Meanwhile, King Robert is almost as taken with Jon as his wife and daughter, for here is a version of Ned Stark who is also knightly, willing to take part in tourneys and feasts and dancing, and cannot help but see Jon as the son he never got to have with Lyanna. Instead of allowing Jon to take a position the Kingsguard as they open up, he showers Jon with riches and titles.

After winning a huge purse at the tourney in honor of Prince Harlen's second birthday - and Queen Margaery's second pregnancy - Jon is named Lord Cargyll, taking up the name and lands of the extinct Crownlands house of the same name, changing the golden goose in their banners to a golden direwolf.

After a falling out with Renly a year later, Jon is named Master of Laws...

...and six months later Robert's vices finally catch up with him, infamously being found dead in brothel of particularly ill-repute following an orgy.

Joffrey, now 17, is still very much his mother's son. One of his first acts on being named king is to declare his father's second marriage invalid and his half-siblings, Prince Harlen and Princess Lenna, bastards. His second act is to declare most of his father's Kingsguard and small council traitors for allowing his father to be "lured" to the brothel where he was "assassinated by Targaryen loyalists."

This naturally goes down badly, and though some of the lords named are captured and executed - Ned Stark, Petyr Balish, and Grand Maester Pycelle among them - most manage to escape. Jon in particular is able to get Margaery and the royal children to his lands in the Crownlands, and start raising a rebellion in Prince Harlen's name.

Robb ends up leading an army south to avenge his father, as per canon, but is never named King in the North. He does win several key victories against Tywin Lannister in the west, eventually taking Tywin himself captive. His victories earn him the nickname the Hammer of the West, a la Edward I.

Jon leads the fighting against the Lannister forces in the east, eventually taking King's Landing. The fact that he's able to keep his army from sacking the city and offers Joffrey the chance to take the black earns him the nickname Jon the Just. (Joffrey naturally refuses, tries to attack Jon in a rage, and is very swiftly killed in self-defense.)

In the aftermath, 4-year-old Harlen is crowned king. His mother Margaery is named Queen Regent, with Jon being asked to serve as Lord Protector of the Realm instead of taking one of the open spaces in the Kingsguard. He agrees, and two years later weds Margaery in a ceremony forever known as the Rose Wedding. (It's not as flash as the Golden Wedding, but is still something else.)

Meanwhile, Tywin is sent into exile for his part in abetting Joffrey's actions, with Tyrion taking over as Lord of the Rock. He and Sansa eventually wed and, though their marriage is never one of love, both are are content with their choice.

Robb marries Myrcella. Theirs does end up being a love match, becoming taken with each other when they first meet in the aftermath of Harlen's Rebellion. After their marriage they seem to make it their effort to make up for all of House Stark's losses, eventually having eleven children live to adulthood and marry into various important houses. By their deaths they're known as the Grandparents of Westeros.

Jon goes to his grave thinking he is Ned Stark's son, not knowing he's inadvertently brought about a Targaryen restoration.

Bonuses include: 1) the full force of angst and drama being brought to bear on Jon and Margaery's relationship, from its start as a mutual crush when they first come to each other's attention on the journey from Winterfell until they finally marry in 306. This should include Jon's desire never to father a bastard, Margaery's awareness that infidelity in a queen is treason, and their inability to keep away from each other. Extra bonus points if Margaery is able to pass Harlan and Lenna off as Robert's even to Jon, and not admit the truth until many years later; 2) every possible Camelot illusion that can be made to King Robert's court, made with the full knowledge that the beauty and glamor and chivalry of both courts is just smoke and mirrors, and one doesn't have to go looking very hard to find the gritty, painful, ugly reality beneath; 3) Jon using his time as Lord Protector to force through something like the Magna Carta, which enshrines basic rights that even kings must follow far more than the RL document actually did; and 4) Sansa having a prominent B-plot, slowly realizing during her time at court that not everything can be a song. The turning point of this is not Ned's execution, but her discovery of Jon and Margaery's affair years before - and her active choice to cover for them so that someone at least gets their happy ending.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back to me if you do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #jon snow #jon snow is a targaryen #secret affair #chivalry #courtly love #robert baratheon #margaery tyrell #Jon x margaery #targaryen restoration

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 years ago

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A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.17

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, referenced Rhaegar Targaryen x Lyanna Stark

Warnings: none

Words: 2219

Summary: Thalina gives Jaime a stern talking to.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 18

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

“I’d advise against it, my prince.” Arthur tries to persuade him against writing to (y/n). There was hardly anyone they could trust at the moment. Whoever they gave the letter to could very well betray them and send Aerys’ army after them.

Rhaegar was defiant though and didn’t want this wife to be kept in the dark any longer. “We can trust Varys’ birds though.” He insists. “Varys only has the realms best interests at heart. He knows that at this moment, the realm is in danger of my father. He wouldn’t betray us. Not when we offer something better than my father does.”

Even Griff shakes his head. “You give the Spider too much of your faith.”

The other members that were present in his tent confirmed so with nods of their heads. Many of these men had once put their loyalty in Aerys but it had grown evident throughout the years that Aerys was unfit to be king. Rhaegar however was just what they needed at that time.

“Would you really put all of your efforts at risk for her?” It was Brandon Stark who spoke up. His younger brother Ned, was as stoned face as Brandon spoke to Rhaegar. “All of us could very well lose our lives. We are all considered traitors now for siding with you. We may be a secret now, but the time will come that everyone will know where certain houses stand. Then will it truly be an all out war.” Dark gray eyes refuse to yield as they’re trained on Rhaegar.

He knew they were right. But it was Varys’ little birds that had informed him that his wife was finally awake. He despaired, knowing that (y/n) must have assumed that she had been deserted when that wasn’t the case.

Varys could have done so in an attempt to lure Rhaegar back to King’s Landing. Would the Spider really do that? Maybe he was having doubts about Rhaegar being fit to rule Westeros. Maybe he feared that one day Rhaegar would turn out to be just like his father.

No. With (y/n) by his side that wouldn’t happen.

Rhaegar sighs, defeated and casts his eyes downward. “Alright.”

Arthur pats the young prince on the back. “Affairs of the heart are difficult to deny. But it is in the best interest of your army. We still need time to gather as many bannermen as we can and win over the ones that your father still possesses.

“I just want to get out of this bloody heat.” Robert Baratheon complained as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “Whose damn idea was it to station ourselves in Dorne?”

Even Ned and Brandon, who were accustomed to the chilly temperature of the north were sweating terribly.

Cheekily grinning Arthur takes a proudful claim to it being his idea. “I figured it would be the safest place here. Afterall, my family has always been sworn to House Martell, and the Martells have agreed to help us overthrow Aerys. They weren’t particularly happy at his outright dismissal of their proposal to wed Rhaegar and Ellia.”

Several of the other noble houses of Dorne nod in agreement. They didn’t want someone like Aerys in power any longer.

“How do you people live in this heat?” Robert continues to bellow, making his way to the tent as if the outside would be any better than the inside. Ned shakes his head, apologizing for Robert’s behavior.

“I must thank you again Arthur. If it were not for you we wouldn’t have the Martells on our side.” Rhaegar smiles at the Sword of the Morning with gratitude.

The knight returns the smile. “I did nothing. It was your personality that won over Doran Martell and his family.”

Brandon purses his lips, wanting to say something about his sister Lyanna. He knew that it wasn’t the place for him to question Rhaegar of his intent with his sister. There were still other lords in attendance and it would not do to besmirch Rhaegar in such a manner. They were fighting for him now. Even if Lord Rickard Stark was opposed to it. He wanted to stay in the north and mind their own business. How could Brandon do such a thing though? The safety of the realm was holding on by a thread. If Aerys’ reign were to continue, who knew what would happen to the north and it’s people. Brandon was doing what he thought was right. Some day he would take over his father’s title as Warden. He had to start somewhere to ensure the safety of Winterfell.

As battle discussions lulled, other bannermen left to go to their own lodgings. Rhaegar began to pack his things to return to make the journey back to Sunspear and back to the Water Gardens that Doran had been so kind as to let Rhaegar stay in.

Brandon noticed a folded piece of paper slip from Rhaegar’s grasp and before the prince could retrieve it Brandon had already caught it. Rhaegar regards him with wary lilac eyes.

“From Castle Black?” Brandon grows serious. “Lyanna told you.”

“Maester Aemon has been a great help to me.” Rhaegar steals it from Brandon’s hands and stuffs it away into his saddle bag. “After all, winter is coming.”

He didn’t particularly like the way the prince was using his house’s motto. “You don’t even ask about my sister.”

Rhaegar flinches, knowing that he would have to address it sooner or later. “Whatever fancy we had for eachother-”

“First you moon over her shamelessly even though she is betrothed and now you want nothing to do with her.” He points out defensively.

“I have a wife.” Rhaegar glares at him. “I love my wife. Whatever brief fancy I had for your sister is over. I can promise you that I will not jeopardize her relationship with Robert Baratheon.”

With a clenched jaw, Brandon hisses “You broke her heart. You led her on with your sweet letters.”

“I’m truly sorry for what I’ve done. But I have learned and grown since then. Your sister helped me a great deal by telling me about what goes on beyond the wall.”

Brandon wants to argue back, to get back to the subject of his sister. What was done was done. Rhaegar truly did seem to have a change in heart. “So, you truly think the Long Night will happen in our lifetime?”

Rhaegar nods. “We need Westeros to be united before darkness befalls on us. United we stand. Divided we fall.”

He’d been visiting more often than usual, Thalina had observed over (y/n)’s recovery. There were still guards posted outside per Aerys’ request but they did nothing to keep Jaime from his sister. Although even Jaime dare not try and take her out of her room. The commander of the King’s Guard would definitely have something to say about that. Did he even get in trouble for bringing little Lord Tyrion yesterday? Even if he had it was worth seeing both (y/n) and Tyrion so happy. The Lannisters were leaving King’s Landing tomorrow and because (y/n) had been in house arrest she hadn’t been able to see her brother that entire time. And Ser Jaime, well, Thalina wasn’t sure she’d seen him that happy in quite some time. Something must have transpired between him and Cersei for Jaime to be committing his time entirely to (y/n). It’s almost as if he was trading one sister for another.

Thalina watched the two as Jaime helped her around her chambers, building her strength. She was already getting better. She could walk a small distance by herself without the assistance of anyone. (y/n) giggled, happy to have her big brother back. It was about time that Jaime make up for neglecting her all those years. Thalina hadn’t been around back then when (y/n) had gotten stuck in the lion’s cages of Casterly Rock, but she had seen the terrible scars left from the event. Both physically and mentally. After all those years, (y/n) was still prone to nightmares. And they were worse now that Rhaegar was gone. Despite Thalina now sharing her bed, (y/n) would still cry out for her prince in her sleep. It was heartbreaking to say the least. She loved him dearly at surprisingly she didn’t resent him at all for leaving. Not that Thalina thought she would. (y/n) was such an understanding person, sometimes to a fault. Thalina hoped that Rhaegar wasn’t doing anything behind her back that would end up hurting (y/n) again. He had given her enough grief to bear.

She peers outside the tall lancet window of (y/n)’s room. It was narrow but Thalina was still able to catch the red banners of the Lannister house as people were beginning to gather their belongings for the long journey they faced the next day.

Good. It didn’t do well to have Cersei and Tywin still here. Thalina never did trust Cersei. She had a bad air around her. Poisonous and full of hate. There were many rumors of how it was the king that ordered (y/n) to be poisoned, but Thalina truly believed that it was actually Cersei’s doing. For the king to have a hand in it, well, it was too messy a job. Even if he was spiraling into further madness he wouldn’t dare do something so outright. Cersei was sneaky though. According to (y/n), her sister had always been the manipulative type and was good at not getting caught.

Wringing her hands together, Thalina turns her gaze away. Jaime had just seated (y/n) in the parlor and was walking over to the maid. “Would you mind getting my sister some tea?”

“Of course not, but there is something I must discuss with you.”

Jaime looks over his shoulder at (y/n) who is happily opening the window to hear the birds chirp outside. He turns back and nods, following Thalina out of the room and closing it. The guards keep their gaze away from the two as they walk down the hall.

Thalina wastes no time. “If anything happens to me I want you to take (y/n) out of here and to Volantis.” She urges him.

In complete bewilderment, Jaime stops in his tracks. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.” She pivots back around. Seriousness making her soft features become hard. “I have a bad feeling. Something will happen to me where I will not be able to take care of her. And even (y/n) may be in peril. You must understand that she cannot stay here if anything happens to me. I thought I’d be able to help her on her journey. . .” Her eyes fill with clouds of gloom. “That is not what R’hllor has destined for me though.”

“Your speaking nonsense. Stop it at once and go get my sister tea. I don’t want you saying any of this to her. You might upset her condition.” Jaime waves her talk off as one of a lunatic.

Thalina refuses to be waved off though. She viciously grabs Jaime’s arm and even he’s unable to pull away, staring at his sister’s maid as if she’s lost her mind. “Promise me. You NEED to promise me that you’ll take her to Volantis. She’ll be safe there in the red temple. They’ll teach her all she needs to know and when the time is right she’ll return to Westeros. There are little of my people here who could help her. She’s better off in Essos where people believe in the Lord of Light. She will be lost if she stays here.”

Now it was starting to concern him. Never had he seen Thalina like this. Meek, silly, Thalina that always made his sister laugh. Silly Thalina that was quick to forget even the most simplest of tasks; a girl who easily got into accidents and hurt herself. Something had indeed changed in her. All Jaime could do was stare at her, dumbfounded.

“You swore upon the eyes of your gods, to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be. She is your princess. Your future queen. If you want to make up for all the wrongs she has suffered under you, you will do this.” Her lips tremble betraying her strength. “You must do this. She is more important to the world than you can truly understand. She may have been a mouse to you and your family, but to others she is so much more.” Her tears started to spill forth but she kept her eyes trained on him.

The desperation on her face made Jaime uncomfortable. Her nails digging into his steel mesh arm made him nervous. He had never seen a woman so desperate.

How could he deny her her request? Even if it sounded ridiculous, he would say whatever Thalina needed to hear in order for her to release him from her maddening grip.

He stiffly nods and Thalina reluctantly lets go. “I will hold you to it. In the name of the Lord of Light.”

---

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