#and the clothes were influenced by the ruling family too... be it the iron throne or just the high lords ruling the region

[a-chaotic-dumbass]

out of the many gripes i have with the game of thrones adaptation, the lack of color in the later seasons is one of the bigger ones bc contrary to popular belief, the medieval ages werent all browns and blacks!! everyone from nobles to commoners wore colors, even if some were more difficult to obtain than others. their clothes werent limited to only furs and dark fabrics they had silhouettes and accessories and dyes and embroidery and pearls and they all wanted to feel pretty just like we do. and each region had their own style too!!! a person from the riverlands shouldnt dress like a person from the reach or the vale or especially essos and if they do there should be a reason! its such a small thing but its something that makes the world alive and for it to be butchered in such a way that i cant tell cersei's sansa's and dany's wardrobes apart in the last seasons is depressing

[currently-kraken]

Theon Greyjoy’s Costumes by Michele Clapton

I saw a post that asked about a piece of Theon’s clothing and I wanted to see if I could help with this. I have Michele Clapton’s Game of Thrones: The Costumes book so I thought I’d share the info and pics (some from the internet, others from the pics of the book my low res phone can provide lol) for Theon (+ Yara) for whoever needs it :)

1. Theon (Alfie Allen) wears an ornate doublet intended to indicate that he is rather conceited.

At the beginning of the story, Theon (Alfie Allen) is full of himself—a weak, unpleasant boy who bears a grudge against Ned Stark for making him his ward and taking him away from the Iron Islands. That sense of having been wronged by the Starks compels him to make terrible choices. He leads an assault on Winterfell in the name of the Greyjoys but later loses control of the Stark homestead to the sadistic Ramsay Bolton (Iwan Rheon). Theon pays an unimaginable price for his failings.

Initially, Theon's costume has elements of the classic Stark look but in the Greyjoys’ colors—his loyalties divided from the start. In early episodes, he wears an overly ornate doublet that hints at his pretentiousness and sense of entitlement, but his cloak is thin and his collar is a simple one made from rabbit fur. He wears a Stark shirt underneath his doublet.

2. Theon’s (Allen) cloak is thin and made from lesser materials, indicating that, as a ward, he isn’t as well cared for as the members of the family who are related by blood.

3. Theon (Allen) may look like a Stark, but his loyalties are divided—his cloak features the Greyjoy kraken sigil.

Theon is taken prisoner by Ramsay later in the storyline and subjected to horrific tortures that fundamentally change his character. To humiliate Theon, Ramsay renames him Reek and dresses him in the same manner as the rest of the servants in Winterfell. He wears a long, apron-shaped tunic made from layers of ragged linen. His finery—and his nobility—are stripped away entirely. But during Ramsay’s wedding to Sansa, Theon is dressed in an outfit that gives a slight nod to his former status. Theon wears somber tones of gray and black with a silhouette that’s very traditionally Stark. He’s also wearing brocade, which is a callback to Catelyn’s Stark’s influence, but Theon’s fabric doublet is shorter than in should be. The fact that it’s slightly ill-fitting makes him appear more servile, the poor tailoring indicating his low status.

4. Theon’s “Reek” costume is made from ragged layers of black linen.

5. As “Reek”, actor Alfie Allen wears a simple collar around his neck to emphasize his subservient status.

6. For Sansa’s wedding to Ramsay, Theon (Alfie Allen) wears a finely tailored brown doublet; his shirt sleeves and his cloak are both made from brocade, an homage to Catelyn Stark. 

7. The costume includes a brocade cloak with cross-body straps and an embossed brown leather belt.

After Theon escapes from Ramsay, he begins to reclaim his identity as a son of the Iron Islands. Most notably, he adopts a much more traditional Greyjoy costume that includes a doublet prominently featuring the house sigil, the kraken, a suitably intimidating sea monster. As with all the Greyjoys, we slashed a very graphic kraken image directly into Theon’s armor—I wanted it to look like something they might do themselves using a blade. Still, the Stark influence can be found in the straps near the neck of his armor. The colors, too, denote his allegiance: Instead of rocky gray, he’s in Northern brown and black. Theon is willing to atone for his past mistakes and sacrifice everything to regain his honor—which he does in the end, giving his life to defend Bran from the Night King.

8. TOP Theon (Alfie Allen) embraces his Iron Islands heritage with a costume that includes all the hallmarks of the Greyjoy look.

9. BOTTOM The Greyjoy kraken sigil adorns his belt.

10. LEFT This costume features Theon’s traditional Greyjoy cloak, which is essentially made from a rectangle of waxed cloth.

11. TOP RIGHT The kraken sigil is prominently featured on Theon’s doublet, the symbol appearing as though it has been slashed into the leather.

12. BOTTOM RIGHT The kraken appears once more on Theon’s scabbard.

BONUS: YARA

13. Gemma Whelan as Yara Greyjoy.

Theon’s sister, Yara (Gemma Whelan), is a natural-born warrior who embraces every aspect of the Greyjoy way of life—she is determined to follow in her father’s footsteps and rule over the Iron Islands from the Salt Throne on Pyke. She grew up entirely apart from Theon—they are essentially strangers when they meet as adults—but nevertheless the love she feels for him is profound. Even when Theon seems completely lost to her, Yara goes to great lengths to save him, acting out of honor, duty and compassion.

Whenever she appears on-screen, Yara is dressed in some version of the primary costume that I designed for her. As a true Greyjoy, her wardrobe would have changed little, so her clothing always remained consistent. The waxed fabric of her doublet is the color of stone and features the standard Iron Islands lacing. She wears lived-in leather trousers that were broken down and aged to give the impression that she rarely takes them off. She has very high boots that stop above her knee. I wanted her to have swagger, and giving her these high leather boots changed her gait in a way that says a great deal about the character. She walks with an attitude and is cool and confident. The boots were also suitably practical for an experienced captain who often finds herself at the center of armed conflict.

Yara’s costumes are quite androgynous. She dresses in a similar fashion to the men of Pyke, which felt like a logical choice for someone who commands a fleet of men. Ironborn sailors wouldn’t follow a woman who appeared overtly feminine, even one as intelligent and fierce as Yara. She would always have to project strength because weakness is anathema to her people. Her strength is really unassailable—you can see it in her actions and in her costumes as well.   

14. Yara’s long-sleeved doublet and trousers are made from waxed linen to appear waterproof.

15. OPPOSITE TOP LEFT Yara’s doublet is intended to be the same color as the Iron Islands themselves and is closed with waxed laces that appear waterproof.

16. OPPOSITE CENTER LEFT Shoulder detail of Yara’s doublet.

17. OPPOSITE BOTTOM LEFT Close-up of the laces used to tie the doublet, which was studded with metal for protection.

18. OPPOSITE RIGHT Yara’s (Whelan) signature look includes striking boots that go over her knees.

Tagging the people on the original post @sing-for-theongreyjoy​ @selkiewife​ @attaining-fic​ @robbeonsa​  

Hope this helps, guys!! 😁🦑

[bffhreprise]

Entry 275

 :There goes our day.: pouted Mai as we watched a messenger enter the room through my eyes.

 “This is outrageous!” exclaimed Lady Pendreigh, letting her displeasure show.

 The messenger instantly went from being a picture of dignity to a terrified child, desperately clinging to what he held.  We couldn’t blame him.  Those who knew of our Lady’s reputation without knowing her couldn’t realize that she was still in perfect control, despite venting a little.  Of course, the house could be incinerated, and she’d still only be venting a little.  The heat pouring off her wasn’t good for the computers.  We hoped she was protecting them.  Doing so ourselves at the moment might be one annoyance too much.

 As James took the letter and lifted the man to his feet, Lady Pendreigh started expounding upon what she would like to do with the one responsible for this affront against her.  Ever calm, James took the messenger out.

 Lady Pendreigh still hadn’t finished her speech when he returned, so she rounded on him, saying, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

 “I’m being challenged again?” he questioned dryly.

 Sighing and shaking her head, she said, “James, he’s trying to make us miss the wedding!  When I find out who this upstart is…”  Her fist clenched and fire erupted around it until she visibly calmed herself.

 “Wouldn’t Adelmar delay things if you asked?” suggested James.

 “Of course not!” she snapped, looking slightly apologetic just after she spoke.

 “I thought he was invited.” continued James.

 “Yes, but he was never actually going to attend.  Ai and Mai don’t warrant his attention.  He’s not likely to even attend Duncan’s wedding whenever that will happen.”

 James glanced at us, so we shrugged.

 “Duncan’s getting married?” he questioned.

 “He must eventually.” she explained.  “He wouldn’t be allowed to let his line end.”

 “But Ai and Mai…” he started, motioning to us.

 “They wouldn’t be allowed to inherit his position.  Izumi would see about having another child before she let that happen.” she retorted.

  :Okaasama is such a stickler for keeping the ruling line ‘pure’ of outside influence.: stated Mai.

 :Yet she still sold us out.  I wonder what she was promised.  She wouldn’t tell just anyone about our link.:

 :We have a powerful enemy meddling with Lady Pendreigh’s affairs.: agreed Mai.

 “Time to go, boss-man, sir!” exclaimed Aaliyah.

 My sister and I glanced at one another.  Neither of us had noticed her enter the room.

 “Go!?  Where could you be taking him now?  You, of course, realize what he’s holding.” accused Lady Pendreigh.

 “A letter of challenge from one Hyun-woo Imugi.  The boss-man needs a weapon, so we’re going to go pick one up.” replied the tiny assassin.

 :How could she know who the message is from?: I questioned.

 :How does she know a tenth of the things she does?  Her information network must be incredible.  There’s always the possibility that this Hyun-woo attempted to hire her: suggested Mai.

 Our thoughts became distracted as we noticed the shocked expression on Lady Pendreigh’s face.  We weren’t surprised that she knew the name, but who could he be to warrant such surprise?  Our great family constantly bickered.

 “You didn’t work it out yet?” prodded Aaliyah.  “Who else would have that kind of pull throughout Asia?”

 “But he’s never even shown interest of anything outside his country.  He’s practically retired.  I never thought… Well, his age…” whispered Lady Pendreigh before pursing her lips in a thoughtful expression.

 “Doesn’t look it, does he!?” exclaimed Aaliyah with a grin.  Aside to James, she whispered “He’s forty-six.”

 I felt that my sister suddenly looked slightly more pale.  Of course, I did as well through her eyes.  Someone from our family aging slowly usually meant their generation had close ties to a Slayer, possibly even a descendent.  Typically, a descendent such as our Lady would take on a quiet, background role in the family after two or three decades, so as not to interfere with the current head.  Directly interfering with the affairs of the current generation was practically unheard of.

 Taking the letter from James and handing it to Lady Pendreigh, Aaliyah said, “You can hold onto this.  We’ll be back soon!”

 Lady Pendreigh nodded.

,,,^._.^,,,

  “Father…” whispered my son before falling to the ground.

 My heart was wrenched inside of me.  No man should be forced to kill his own son, but here I had.  Who was approaching me now without the slightest regard for my position or grief?  I quelled the impulse to lash out.

 “You there.  Think not that you can hide from me.” I warned.  I pulled the sword from my stomach and tossed it back to my fallen child, but the transformation was coming.  I fell to my knee, unable to remain standing with this new battle waging inside me.  How many had died today, following my treacherous son?

 The boy who approached was very tall, handsome, and completely foreign in dress.  His clothes were obviously made with incredible skill, but that style was unknown to me, which shouldn’t be possible.  Even now—with my inner battle—the minds of thousands were within sight and none knew this man or his dress.

 “What manner of dress do you wear?  You are no servant of my son, Amr?” I questioned, surprised at the boy’s calm demeanor as he studied me.  How many wars had he fought to look upon so many fallen with only a passing sorrow?

 “No, I am not.” he replied, his Welsh sounding as a well-bred native.

 I believed him.  There was no sign deceit on his face, and though he moved as one trained to fight, his stance wasn’t the least aggressive.  Who was he?  What was he?  He obviously wasn’t human, not with such flawless skin.  “Will you fetch my sword from my son’s chest?  No spell can touch that blade.”  I trusted Caledfwlch to judge this man’s character.

 The man looked at the sword residing within my son and grimaced ever so slightly.  Did he know of this blade’s power, or did he truly find such a task distasteful?  Perhaps he was merely disinclined to follow the order of another.   “I see the hesitation within you, but know that my son wanted to usurp the throne for himself.  I could not ask his elder brother to face him, not when his greed was my own folly.  Please, grant me this wish.” I urged, knowing I might have to stop resisting the change to kill this new threat should the sword prove him a snake.

 A chill shot through me as I saw the brilliance of my sword in this other man’s hand.  Caledfwlch wouldn’t even release a glimmer of its light for an average man.  The truly just might make the blade glow to the eye.  For me, the sword blazed into a light most could not look upon.  In the hand of this man, the chimaeras’ fire washed the blade in light to rival the sun, a light that washed as an aura around the man’s body as well.  He looked as an angel of destruction, here to make known its terrible will.

 “Who are you, stranger?” I asked, ashamed at the unsteadiness of my tone.

 “James.” he replied, handing over my sword as if Caledfwlch were a trinket.

 “Are you here to take the throne before my son?” I asked, fear giving my voice an edge.

 “No.  Definitely not.”

 Sword in hand, I felt no deceit from him, though I felt Caledfwlch’s longing for him.  Who was this man?  Forcing myself to speak, I said, “But you are worthy, despite standing while a king kneels.”  Was this man a danger?  If so, could I actually save my world from him?

 The man knelt and said, “Sorry, your majesty.”

 “Perhaps a gift then, your majesty, to protect this traveler on the road.” came a voice I knew well.

 Standing there, clothed in her gown of stardust, was the Lady of the Lake, creator of Caledfwlch.  Despite her guise as a woman of incomparable beauty, I knew she was a creature  of unmatched power.

 “My lady…” I started, my voice shaking in those two words.  I took an iron grip on my emotions and asked “Have you come to reclaim Caledfwlch?”

 “No, Arthur.  I merely want to see this young man protected, and know you to have weapons enough.” she replied, seeming to float more than walk over to me.  She knelt at my side and crooned to the sword.

 Not daring to argue with her, I took the dagger from my waist and handed it to the strange man, saying, “Here then, lad.  Carnwennan has served me well.  May it serve you now.”  When he had the dagger in hand, I told him “Leave me now.  I feel the change coming and know not how long I can suppress it.”

 “Kyduan searches even now.” whispered the Lady.  “If you can last a minute more, you will see him again before you leave us.”

 My face took on a smile that was surely a pale comparison of the Lady’s, but I had hope of seeing my firstborn before the change forced me to leave this world.  Still smiling, I watched as the Lady guided the man away.  Whoever he was, he had a great destiny ahead or she would not be with him.

,,,^._.^,,,

 “You weren’t gone long.  Aaliyah give you something she had lying around the condo?” questioned Lady Pendreigh when James returned minutes after he had left.  “A dagger?”

 Our eyes locked on what he carried, trying to discern its worth.

 “James, where was that hidden?’ questioned Lady Pendreigh with obvious excitement.

 “I can’t say where I got it.”

 “But… do you know what that is!?” she asked excitedly.

 “Carnwennan, which once belonged to a man called Arthur.”

 Our eyes bulged.

 “King Arthur.  The King Arthur.  That dagger has been lost since his death!”

 James didn’t react to the information, save for a slight sadness in his eyes.  Did he love the tale or feel pained at having another secret?  James was very strange in many ways.  We wondered if he had the slightest clue of the power in that small blade.  If not, he’d find out soon enough.

[celestianvices]

Fullmetalia: Main

[tag: fullmetalia: main]

Name: Ciavera/Húlí  (Eastern Islands) Age: Roughly 2500 Height: 5’6 Weight: 135lbs Hair: Long, straight, and inky black Eyes: Jade green Skin: Light

Background: Very little is known about this land or the Lady associated with it, and she seems to prefer this. She keeps herself secret from most everyone, save for the nation of Xing.

Because she is surrounded by water, there are a few speculations that can be made, such as her main diet consisting of seafood. She also seems to have a peculiar fondness for foxes, and fairy tales involving foxes of the magical variety. There is rumored to be an entire island dedicated to them within her borders.

Huli isn’t exclusively interested in her own foxes however. She seems to want to collect some from every corner of the world.

Other than these however, almost all of her lore is centered around water, from sea dwelling dragons to imps that live in rivers (and eat both children and cucumbers). Tales of water ladies and snow maidens abound as well.

Huli has known Xing for most of her life. He discovered her when she was very young, and since then she has rarely strayed from his side. Her attachment to him was strong from the beginning, and has only become more so as time went on. To say that she loves him would almost be an understatement. At the very least, it barely scratches the surface. She’s shares much of her lore with him, and seems to come up with new things at random even now. They have a shared love of harmless mischief as well, and it’s unclear how much of that she learned from him, or vice versa.

Spending so much time together, it should be no surprise that their cultures (what is known of Huli’s that is) and their languages are very similar.

While her “true” name as the personification of the nation is Ciavera, no one seems to call her as such. Instead referring to her as Huli. The woman seems to prefer this and never corrects the mistake.

Skills: While not widely known, Huli’s skills in martial arts and swordplay are nothing to be scoffed at. While she has learned much of her abilities from Xing, she has put her own touch to many of them, and with swordplay in particular she has come a long way in developing her own style of combat.

She is creative and inventive as well, although her mysterious nature means that very few people have seen what she can do in this area.

Nation: Huli, aka The Eastern Island Nations (The plural being a misnomer as the Isles are in fact one nation collectively), The Isles

Language: Hulinese (similar in sound and structure to Japanese, also has a bit of a Hawaiian flavor to it)

Currency: Zenny (unabashedly plucked this from Breath of Fire xD)

 Exports:

Cocoa beans, cocoa powder, chocolate

Pearls

Sugar

Fish (dried, smoked, or otherwise preserved)

Pineapples

Imports (from Xing):

Rice

Silk

Gunpowder

Precious Metals (mainly gold, silver, and iron)

Common Hobbies/Occupations:

Swimming

Fishing

Metalworking (particularly the art of sword making)

Surfing

Sailing

Agriculture

Pearl diving

Recreational diving

Luau

Clothing: The Hulinese people in general wear clothing that is simple and made for a life in and near water. Comfortable fitting pants, and light jackets for men, often without undershirts, and simple sarong style wraps that can be worn as either skirts or dresses, and equally simple tops for the women who work out on the water. In the same vein, there are lengths of cloth that can be used as either sashes or simple tops (usually for women). Inland the clothing becomes a bit more concealing, consisting of yukata and other, similar styles of clothing, with the elegant and more ornate kimonos reserved for those living in the royal palace and other upper class areas.

While early on the soldiers used to wear attire similar to that of the Samurai, they have since moved toward clothing designed more for stealth and with speed and ease of movement in mind. (It should be noted however, that in battle Huli herself will often still dress in the older style of clothing, or more often in a kimono, with her katana and wakazashi ever at her side.)

Terrain: The landscape of Huli is quite diverse despite being a collection of islands. Most of the lands near the ocean are green and humid, with tropical rain-forests dotting the land, however there are also a few mountain ranges scattered over the Islands, as well as steep sea cliffs, long stretches of beach, and beautiful hilly regions which are covered in flowers for most of the year.

The land is spread out into a mainland with several smaller island both to the north and south. Huli’s home is located on a small northern island, near the isle of cats, and is easily distinguished from most of the surrounding islands not only by the fact that her home is the only piece of housing there, but by the distinct black sand beaches located there.

Climate: Mostly tropical and humid, snow is not unheard of but it is incredibly rare in the lower regions of the mainland and it’s surrounding islands. It’s much more common the farther up into the mountains you go, and the highest peaks spend most of the year in ice and frost. There are also a few small areas on the mainland and a few larger islands where the temperature is more temperate and mild, and these tend to be the places where the flowering hills are located.

Civilization: The Capitol City is the most developed area of the mainland, and has the largest concentration of people living in Huli. It’s called Kitsu, and like many things relating to Huli as a person, It’s name was inspired by a fox. There are a few larger towns scattered across the isles, but mostly the land is taken up by a combination of small villages, farms, and wilderness.

The capitol is landlocked, keeping it away from the ocean and [relatively] safe from all but the most brutal of ocean storms and hurricanes. The next largest town is the port of Oinari, which is located on the straight between Huli and the larger continent. It is here that trade ships from Xing bring in goods and news from the rest of the world.

Government: Being raised by Xing and influenced heavily by his culture, Huli’s government has developed into one which is lead by and Emperor/Empress, who is usually (but not always) chosen by rite of succession. The Empress/Emperor is assisted in governing the land by a counsel of advisers, usually older than him/herself.

Before she met Xing, when the land and the woman were both very young and new, there was no unity in the nation. Rather, there were a myriad of tiny regions, each controlled by a lord who employed his or her own soldiers to protect and enforce and on occasion, to fight against other Lords warriors in order to settle disputes. It was a bit of a mess, and reflected the unruly and easily distracted mind of a child with no parents to guide them.

When Xing found her, he was cutting a path across the land, exploring and conquering wherever he went and eventually crossing the small straight of water between her lands and the main continent. With such disorganization he could have easily taken her land and absorbed her fledgling nation into his own, but instead he decided to take her and raise her, to protect her rather than conquer her. Perhaps it was that he could see a small reflection of his own family in her strange and jumbled regions, though the truth of it is unclear.

Before his arrival, she did not even have a name for the land or herself. It was Xing’s observation of the little child’s fox mask and mischievous nature that prompted him to call her Huli, the Xingese word meaning ‘fox’. With this first, crucial step, her land slowly moved toward unification, as trades and alliances began to absorb other regions into one another, until eventually her nation was completely unified under the rule of he first Hulinese Empress. While it was Xing who gave her land it's name, it was the first empress who named the girl. Becoming a mentor figure to her in those first early years. Originally spelled Xiavera; meaning Bright and Splendid, the name has changed over time to it's current form.

The Emperor/Empress is allowed and even required to choose their own spouse before the time of their ascension to the throne. If they do not choose one before that time, a lottery is held of all the eligible men or women in the nation and the name that is pulled is to be their emperor/empress. Often times those seeking to climb the political ladder will bring their son or daughter to meet the young heir, having their children spend time with them in hopes that a bond will form and their child will be chosen.

Until recently, the nation of Huli had no formal military, instead employing a royal guard arranged in much the same way that the regions of the past had their warriors. This likely would have changed much earlier, during the first attack on her lands, which left Huli herself gravely injured and caused the beginning of their seclusion, if it had not been for the fact that support from Xing’s military allowed them to succeed without taking such measures.

During the time of their seclusion, the warriors of Huli continued in the state they had been up to that point as far as organization, but thanks to encouragement from Xing, her peoples focus shifted a bit from simple martial arts, to a focus on stealth, silence, speed, and agility. They also benefited from Huli herself learning the ways of the sword and developing her own style, which she passed on to her people over the years.

During the time of seclusion, as Huli and Xing’s relationship began to shift from the child/guardian dynamic they’d had since he took her in, Huli’s people became divided for a time between those who were happy to be receiving the protection of the larger nation, and those who believed they were too dependent on Xing, and who felt that they should distance themselves from the larger nation a bit and begin trade with other lands again. These disputes reached a boiling point resulting in the only civil war Huli has ever known, and the woman suffered greatly from the conflict within her borders.

In this, as with so many other aspects of her life, Xing proved to be a great help in settling the conflict before more blood was shed. By this time, he had been learning diplomacy and conflict resolution from his western neighbor Xerxes, and thanks to her influence he was able to relay such methods to Huli, and her land was able to return to peace because of this.

Huli was only indirectly affected by the fall of Xerxes, and the woman more than the nation, simply because she was the one who was there to comfort Xing as her [by that time] husband grieved over the loss of his friend. She did however benefit indirectly from his friendship with the Western Sage, learning Alkehestry from Xing and passing the skill on to her people as she had the art of the sword.

It wasn’t until more than 400 years after that event that the nation of Huli saw conflict inside it’s borders once again. With this most recent event, Huli finally organized it’s forces into a proper military, while keeping in tact the training she had perfected over the course of her more than 2000 year lifetime.

[renlyisright]

Season 8 Episode 2 - Fear Is for the Winter

It’s the deep breath before the plunge. The battle for the living is about to begin, but before it there’s not much to do besides playing the waiting game.

Which is a boring game, Hungry Hungry Hippos is much better. But don’t worry, I have figured out a way to defeat the White Walkers. Just bring back the right people:

When the show started, the main focus was on the Southern politics and wars and so on, but all the time there was the clock ticking behind the Wall. At some point, none of this will matter anymore, as the Dead come and gods protect us if we are not ready.

Turns out we aren’t. And the Southern politics didn’t go anywhere. The Dead will likely get defeated in the next episode, otherwise there wasn’t a point in spending an episode first in the preparing for a great battle, and - very likely - the whole next episode on the actual battle. The Dead will stop here, but at what price?

And after the survivors walk or are carried out of Winterfell’s burnt ruins and see the fallen army of the Dead, they will still have Cersei and the Iron Throne and family trees to worry about. A lovely thought. Life goes on.

But in the beginning of the episode that is as far away as the end of the world. Jaime gets an audience with the Queen, and it goes well, considering the circumstances. Or the circumstances make it go better than it otherwise would. Bran gives out that he remembers what Jaime did to him, but doesn’t tell the others. That one would have tipped the scales, all the rest he could label as acts of war during wartime. And his good deeds have consequences too, which is nice. It’s almost like those video games where you can pick choices and at the end the game remembers them.

Redemption is an interesting thing. Usually in fantasy stories when the bad guy decides to become good they die immediately, so there’s no moral dilemma of whether they should still be punished or not. 

An example from old Star Wars novels is Kyp Durron, who was one of Luke’s pupils in the new Jedi Academy. He was influenced by an old evil Sith spirit (those are just lying around everywhere) and killed millions of people. In the end he became good again and received pretty much no penalty. That was a big cause of debate to fans back then, I’m too young to remember.

But by being a great Jedi, he must have saved millions and millions of more people later during his career, so isn’t that a much better outcome than if he was incarcerated for the rest of his life? What use would that have been? I don’t know, I don’t think that a case like that can be mapped out to the real world that well.

Bran follows this line of thought. Whatever happened, here they are now, and now Bran is the Three-Eyed Raven so who cares of what Bran thought back then.

He says he is no longer Bran, but something else entirely. I don’t think there was any mind swap, he is still the same person with mostly the same brain. But as he now sees everything in the past and the present he must feel like he is outside a normal person’s life. He can take an universal view of the world which doesn’t care about specific people, and so he must take that view for the sake of the world. At least that’s how he thinks.

Gendry doesn’t take Arya’s weapon order seriously until she shows that she knows what she is doing. Arya seems to have made the plans herself, and doesn’t seem to have discussed it with anyone. Considering that the Dead have a self-destruct button in the form of the Night King, and the defenders have a trained Faceless assassin among them, putting one and one together should work.

Or not, since he’s on a dragon currently. That, and the Dead not needing sleep,and not leaving any good faces, puts a wrench on any plan to just go to the army and assassinate the big boss. She can’t exactly hide among them.

Winterfell is becoming spiky as a metal concert. The problem with fighting the Dead is that there’s no manual. The Night Watch managed to escape the Fist of the First Men, but that one and the Hardhome were so chaotic that few lessons of the enemy could be learnt there. As I see it, the dead have the advantage that their “morale” is perfect and they will fight until completely destroyed. They also won’t be scared of any injury when doing stunts. But they don’t do any actual maneuvers, no shield walls, nothing like that. And when not directly ordered by a Walker to go to specific places, they have even less tactical thinking. So there should be ways to distract them or otherwise make them spend their forces to stupid things.

The problem is that the Walkers direct them to do just that anyway (walk over the cliff, the first thousand will soften the rest’s fall), because they feel like they have the numbers. And they are right in that.

Daenerys is angry at Tyrion for not figuring out that Cersei lied. Jorah goes to talk to her about it and asks her to forgive him. She does, but has there yet been a time when someone does something she thinks is bad and she just… doesn’t threaten them, or outright kill them, or send them away, or get talked out of it by someone else? I don’t remember. If the only thing stopping her from burning everyone is that people talk her out of it every other time… In a vote I’d be on Jon’s side.

I also like her gray-and-red dress, more than the ones she wore on previous seasons. And it's some color amidst all the black in Winterfell. Speaking of clothes, Lord Royce still wears his metal breastplate everywhere. Sounds cold up here.

And hey, is Robin Arryn here anymore? He has disappeared. Of course it would be silly to have a kid up here when he could be in the Eyrie, safer and actually ruling his lands. Maybe he turns up just in time to die.

Daenerys goes to speak with Sansa, trying to bond with her over being girl bosses. Sansa has seen enough queens to do just what Daenerys tries to do to be impressed, and asks what her plans are for the North. Do they get independence or not?

Why not? Sure, it’s half the continent, but currently you own a small island, Daenerys. A good ally is a much better deal than a resentful vassal. But she is Daenerys Stormborn yada yada, and the North is her by right. Shame she never met Stannis.

Theon is back, and Sansa is glad to take him and his small force to defend the castle. They aren’t the only ones arriving, refugees arrive all the time and are divided into those who can fight and those who can’t. Since the Dead arrive in the 24 hours, many and more must still be on their way, coming through the woods when the battle starts. Well, unless the Dead understand that they should simply siege and wait for the diseases and the lack of food to do their work for them, the battle will be short, however it’s going to end.

Davos and Gilly direct people to their destinations. There’s one young girl who has… has… oh. A scarred cheek, reminding both me and Davos of Princess Shireen. Ow. She goes to protect the crypt, and I hope it doesn’t get attacked (because she would wreck everybody who tries, obviously).

Considering that it has now been two episodes in the last season, and no one named has died yet, but almost everyone has gathered here ready for the big battle, the next episode - and ones coming afterwards - will be brutal. I’m not going to make any specific predictions, many side characters will die, some more main characters as well, you know, this is a big one. And since the show will end soon we wouldn’t see much of these people anymore anyway.

The survivors of the Wall arrive, and give the Deadline: the enemy will be here before dawn tomorrow. And I don’t see the battle lasting to sunrise. It’s an army of the Dead and the Night King, and it’s the climax, of course they’ll attack during the night. If they get defeated, that’s when the Sun will rise.

Final plans are made. They are going to meet the enemy on the field. Makes sense when you have Dothraki, But the Night King is the lynchpin. Bran declares that he will come to the field, as he wants to personally kill the Three-Eyed Raven.

This is a very tabletop RPG way of setting up a battle. The players can’t fight thousands of enemies with the usual combat rules. Even if the long battle won’t kill them it gets super monotone fast, so it’s better to set up something they can do and have that determine the battle’s result.

Tyrion is very interested in Bran’s story. Foreshadowing, or simply a character who very much wants to know stuff getting to meet someone who can rewind everywhere?

The goal of the White Walkers is given by Bran as “destroy humans”. That was clear before, but apparently there’s no other motive. They just kill. It’s just death. If they have a plan for after, humans don’t need to know. Maybe the Children made a mistake in the instructions and so they were added to the “kill all humans” command, or the Night King figured out that killing them eases the killing of humans, especially as they protected the Three-Eyed Raven. Anyway, programming is hard, I’d expect that programming living creatures is even harder.

Bran escaped from the cave to the Castle Black very easily if the Night King knew where he was all the time.

Missandei and Grey Worm discuss what their plans are when the wars are won and they can retire. One word: retirony. Take her picture and show it to the other Unsullied while you are at it, Grey Worm. I haven’t had an opinion, good or bad, about these two, they just are around. Of course I wish them good health and a happy relationship, but it feels like Sam and Gilly are using all the luck.

Oh, Ghost is here! But if someone is likely to join the long line of people and dying to protect Jon, it’s Ghost.

Sam worries about Jon not telling Daenerys. Dude, there’s something else on their plate right now, they can worry about that later if there’s going to be a later.

Comparing Sam the Kingmaker with Sam the self-proclaimed coward from the first episodes, there’s a very large difference. But since you can’t be brave without fear, Sam has become the bravest of all. I’m very proud of him.

Then there’s Edd, who is certain they are all going to die. Again. Well, that is one of the safest predictions there is, as long as you don’t specify a date. “And now there’s just us”. The Night’s Watch has dropped like flies already. And now the real winter is here.

But so is The Night Watch. It’s everyone here now. Everyone in Winterfell is now part of the shield that guards the realms of men. It’s not much fun, but some do this every day.

Since nobody is going to have any sleep, a group of people settles to sit beside the fire. There’s a wildling raider, a Southern smuggler, a Lannister squire, the Kingslayer, the Imp and a maiden from Tarth who likes to play with swords. All here and now, in the dark of a cloudy winter night, waiting. It’s a somber event, no matter how much Tormund tries to lift people’s spirits with his tales.

It’s equally somber outside, where the Hound and Beric divide a drink in the night that’s getting colder. Maybe I’m making a mistake watching this now in the height of summer instead of the winter, when the nights are 20 hours long here. I’d be in the proper mood then.

Arya decides to stop thinking of her “people I want to kill”-list (which has grown smaller since many of those fight on her side now) and instead starts “people I want to smash” -list, which currently has just Gendry in it. And she wastes no time with that list.

The discussion in the hearth room moves to Brienne, whom people are surprised to hear is not a ser. Jaime offers to knight her, as “Any knight can knight another.” I think you just made that up. I don’t think ser in the feudal hierarchy is just a title, being a knight is more than just letters before your name. But everyone allows that one, they are going to die anyway. And if they live, Daenerys will approve.

Jaime has his Valyrian sword, half of Ice, the half given to Joffrey and used mainly to cut books and cakes. Brienne has the other half, so Ice has returned to Winterfell just in time to be put in good use. Sam has brought the Tarly heirloom sword, Jon has Bearclaw, Arya Littlefinger’s dagger… that’s all of the mentioned ones, right? All in Winterfell. Nice.

Sam gives his father’s sword, Heartsbane, to Jorah, to honor his father. Legacy, again. Jorah declares that he is going to use it in Old Bear’s memory. He was the first leader who took the Dead seriously, and without whom Jon or Sam wouldn’t have done all they did to prepare.

A new song, Jenny of the Oldstones, with Pod as the singer. It’s not a merry song, it’s about dancing with ghosts. Well ghosts would perhaps be an improvement to those they’ll soon dance with.

Jon spends the last moments before the battle in the crypt, before it gets crowded with people. Now he gets to be dark and alone. Except not, Daenerys arrives, and manages to ask just one question before Jon already spills the beans. He just manages to reveal everything and hammer home that by the law he’s the rightful heir, but before they can discuss it any further the three blasts are blown. So the poorest possible timing.

And so the snarks and grumkins arrive to Winterfell. Is this the sort of story that you’d like?

[rhiannonfrater]

Sansa and Arya - Season 7

So...(insert Spoiler Warning here) one of the most discussed and vilified storylines in Game of Thrones Season 7 is the relationship between Arya and Sansa Stark. People completely lost their minds over this storyline, claimed it was out of character, etc.

I disagree.

Let me explain.

First off, we have two sisters who never really got along.

Sansa was destined to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms due to the arrangement her father made with King Robert. Her future was set in stone and she spent her entire life up to the age of 13/14 preparing for that role. Arya even makes fun of her for always knitting in her room while the other children were playing. It’s no surprise that Sansa dreamed of a fairytale like future with her handsome king in the Southern Kingdom when this was her sole purpose in life from a young age.

Sansa discovered that darkness behind that dream while traveling with Joffery and his family to the Southern Kingdom. She learned quickly she wasn't very well equipped to deal with the cruel games of the court when her dire wolf was put to death. Sansa was an innocent among vultures. Though portrayed as very naïve and a little dumb, she learned to keep her mouth shut and endure. This became very important to her survival, especially after the death of her father.

Sansa holding her tongue and observing the game is what kept her alive while dealing with the very deadly Lannisters. Yes, she was afraid, but she was also wise enough to see where others had gone wrong (like her father) and lost their lives. Observing her, Tyrion realized this truth about her and respected her for it. Cersei even recognized it and started to fear Sansa.

Sansa's ability to learn, adapt, and wait out her enemies for the right time to move is what kept her alive until she escaped the Boltons. This also helped her when dealing with a brother (Jon) who couldn't see past the girl she’d once been and understand her worth as his adviser. She won the Battle of the Bastards and Jon won the throne because of it.

That anyone ever questioned Sansa’s loyalty is surprising to me. Sansa had demonstrated her great love for her family, Winterfell and her people. She'd learned in the Southern Kingdom what was truly important to her. That's why she props up Jon even though she knows she's the better ruler. That is why she questions him when he makes foolish choices that might put him and the Northern Kingdom at risk. She believes in Jon, but she knows he needs her to rule wisely.

Arya, as the second daughter of Ned and Caitlyn Stark, wasn't betrothed to royalty. Political marriage didn't influence her childhood, or shape her life. Her father was indulgent with her, allowing her to pursue (on the sly) her tomboyish interests such as secret sword lessons. Of course, he was probably hoping she'd get it out of her system before she was older, but Ned definitely empowered Arya in a way he never empowered Sansa.

From the moment her father died, Arya was basically on her own. Her wits and her fighting abilities got her through difficult times. Though she did bide her time in trying to kill Tywin Lannister, she wasn't very good at court intrigue and failed in that endeavor. The Hound taught her to fight and be truly ruthless. She learned how it felt to kill. Her time with the Faceless Men taught her how to wield their magic and assassin skills, but also revealed just how strong she really is. She survived against all odds.

Arya's “to kill” list falls by the wayside when she hears her favorite brother is back in Winterfell. She returns home to be reunited with Jon, but instead discovers two other siblings have survived, too. Arya recognizes that Winterfell is not exactly a safe place. The guards definitely need to be disciplined and, more worrisome; Littlefinger is looming in her sister’s shadow.

The conflict between the two sisters that follows made total sense to me. They don't KNOW each other. The last time they interacted, Sansa was besotted with Joffery and her future role as queen while Arya was a strange little sister who wanted to be a knight. Though sisters, they were raised completely different and often saw each other as adversaries. This is evident in Arya’s mocking of Sansa’s handwriting and clothing.  Current circumstances surrounding them only seem to reinforce they're the same people they were as children. Sansa is the Lady of Winterfell, a role she likes, and is advising the King of the North. Arya, the weird little sister who wants to be a knight, has a list of people she plans to kill and a bag full of faces. They're both still on totally different paths.

Littlefinger immediately sees the potential of the situation. If he can set the sisters against each other, he can force Sansa to make a move that will destroy her relationship with Jon and end up installing her as Queen of the North with Littlefinger at her side. He immediately puts his plan into motion. Aware that Arya is watching him, he has her find an incriminating letter Sansa sent under duress. This only seems to reinforce to Arya that Sansa has always thought of herself first before the family, and might be doing the same where it concerns Jon.

Arya confronts her sister, demanding to know the truth. Some people argued this is out of character. I don't. Arya is not one to mince words. Sansa married two enemies of the Starks and was in the Southern Kingdom for a very long time. She's learned to play the Game of Thrones better than anyone else in her family. Arya wants to make sure that Sansa is on Jon's side because she disagrees with Sansa's way of ruling in the aftermath of Jon's departure. Her sister is more willing to let opposing forces speak out and then deal with them instead of ruling with an iron hand. Arya wants for Sansa to crack down on everyone, and sees her reluctance. Does this mean Sansa is undermining Jon so she can be Queen?

Of course, Sansa IS on Jon's side, but she's frustrated that he doesn't value her advice. Sansa saw her father and brother die because they made the same mistakes Jon is making. Jon acknowledges she's probably right, but still leaves his Kingdom. Of course, Arya doesn't understand any of this and misreads this internal conflict.

Their argument on the balcony is all about their past. It's all about how they were both powerless to save their father. It's about their terrible lives after his death and how they have played very different roles. Sansa is right when she tells Arya she wouldn't have survived what Sansa endured. Arya's anger and outbursts would have gotten her killed very quickly. Of course, the opposite is true, too. Sansa would not have survived being a street urchin or ended up a trained assassin. Arya is angry at her sister for not acting as she would have. Sansa is angry at Arya for not understanding what she endured. This all makes sense. This is their OLD childhood arguments rehashed.

Littlefinger swoops in afterward to try to make Sansa even more afraid of her sister, and I think it worked to some degree until one pivotal moment.

With the door to her bedroom open behind her, Arya confronts a horrified Sansa who just discovered the bag full of faces. She proposes they play a game.

"I ask you a question, and you try to make lies sound like the truth," Arya says (this is IMPORTANT). "If you fool me, you win. If I catch you in a lie, you lose."

Instead of answering Arya's question, a frightened Sansa asks Arya a question. This is VERY IMPORTANT. Now Arya must LIE to Sansa and make it sound like the truth. So Arya LIES. She basically threatens her sister's life and threatens to take her face and wear her pretty dresses. (Arya has made it clear in the past how much she hates Sansa's clothing).  This is her way of saying to her sister "I AM NOT YOUR ENEMY."

During the telling of this lie, Arya takes the dagger that Littlefinger gave Bran. We're supposed to see this as her threatening Sansa, but she's not. She's telling Sansa a LIE, with the door open behind her, and holding Littlefinger's dagger. She ends her LIE by handing her sister the dagger, handle first, then walks out leaving Sansa looking relieved.

Arya leaves the door open because LIttlefinger has spies everywhere. Their confrontation will be reported to him. But she LIES to Sansa and hands her the dagger as a sign she is lying. She hands it to Sansa with the blade pointed at herself. Littlefinger is aiming his dagger (manipulations) at Arya.

Remember what Sansa said to Bran when she saw the dagger Littlefinger had given him? The dagger that started the war of the Five Kings?

"He's not a generous man. He wouldn't give you something unless he expected something back."

This is Sansa's wake up call. Littlefinger is taking the normal conflict between two sister's getting to know each other again and making it something more. Arya realizes that Littlefinger is playing them off each other and gives Sansa the clues. Sansa then begins piecing it all together. Sansa has had Littlefinger's number since last season. She’s been giving him the evil eye since before Jon became King. She has known Littlefinger is trying to manipulate her all along and held him at arm's length. In fact, before he started trying to play Arya and Sansa off each other, Sansa had been downright rude and contemptuous to Littlefinger.

After the Lie Game with Arya, everything Littlefinger says to Sansa confirms her suspicions. She says as much during the trial, repeating his words back to him. "Sometimes when I'm trying to understand a person's motives, I play a little game. I assume the worst."

Littlefinger instantly realizes that Sansa saw right through him. Especially when she finishes, by saying, "What is the worst reason you have for turning me against my sister?"

By the end of the season, it’s clear the sisters have put their past behind them and created a new sisterly bond. They get each other now. Arya acknowledges she would have never survived like Sansa. Sansa has played the Game of Thrones and has won over some worthy adversaries.

Which brings me to people consistently underestimating Sansa throughout the show. She was a child when the show started and now she's a young woman. She has had years of learning from the best players of the Game of Thrones.

And as she said herself, "I'm a slow learner,it's true. But I learn."

[rhegar]

Dearly Beloved, Chapter 6

Fic Summary: Elia Martell passes away after giving birth to Aegon from complications. Rhaegar Targaryen, now widowed, realizes how fatal his mistakes were to his family.

Chapter Summary: Rhaegar judges Doran’s gift and travels to King’s Landing to deal with his father, while his relationship with Arthur is blossoming.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: TW for rape

This is Chapter six. Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 or Read on Ao3 here

If I were a real dragon that breathed fire and feasted on the cooked flesh of its enemies, Rhaegar thought, he wouldn't have been so scared of me.

Lord Varys was huddled on the floor, dirty and stinking and afraid, his clothes and gag were soiled, and his hands were bound behind his back with a rope so right it must have chafed his wrists. All of this gave Rhaegar as much joy as he had felt since Elia's death.

"Sit him down," he said in a tone so cold it surprised him. "Don't unbind him."

The mute man grabbed the eunuch by the wrists and pulled him, so that he could seat himself. He did. Behind Rhaegar, Arthur was moving nervously. His knight then moved and stood between him and Varys, not blocking either from the other's sight, but still close enough to intervene should the little man try to hurt Rhaegar, who was almost twice as tall as him, and a knight with his sword and dagger hung on his belt. Oh, Arthur, he thought, you worry too much. He watched and almost chuckled when Arthur put his hand on Dawn's pommel. Then his eyes went back to the pathetic-looking master of whisperers.

"You know, lord Varys… in your own way, you command respect. Or used to. Whispers about how you're a eunuch or how you're a foreigner who should have no place on the king's small council… you heard them all, did you not? And you cared none. Neither do I. I think you did an excellent job as a master of whisperers."

The prince of Dragonstone was pacing up and down the space between the map table and the balcony. He stopped and smiled at Varys. "An excellent job. You succeeded at keeping a madman on a throne he doesn't deserve for far longer than he should sit it. He threatened to kill my mother, did you know that? He threatened to kill his own queen, his own sister. A kinslayer on the Iron Throne. But how silly of me, of course you know. You were the one telling him that Prince Doran and I were planning to depose him, after all. Why?"

The man looked at him silently in horror. "Why did you help him plant a man at the Water Gardens to murder my children? Why did you tell him about the great council at Harrenhal?" Rhaegar looked to the mute man. "Ungag him. Let us hear an answer to that." He knew that there were none that could convince him.

When the dirty gag was off Varys' mouth, Rhaegar heard him take a big gulp of air into it. He's going to keep breathing through his mouth to avoid his own stench, I wager.

"Your father's rule is the lawful rule, your grace," Varys said in a voice that he was trying to keep stable. "I did what was my duty to protect the lawful king from attempts of usurping. I did it for the realm."

"The realm?" Rhaegar said, and snickered. "Yes, I'm sure the realm would prosper under my father. After he was done raping his wife, burning lords, killing his own grandchildren and sending his own son to the wall where he would be forbidden from furthering the Targaryen line, thus thinning our blood more and more and opening the gates to a civil war and a destabilized realm should any ill befall my brother and he is unable to obtain any more heirs. It is a barrel of wildfire waiting for some idiot to light a candle under it. And you know who would have lit the candle? You. Telling my father that this lord or that is conspiring against him, all lies to further your own power and influence over him, of course. He burns the wrong lord, and we have a rebellion on hand. You would have happily set this realm you claim to care for on fire, Lord Varys. My own country that I'm set to inherit, that I was born in and lived my entire life wanting to protect, which you claim to love so much and try to protect from me by protecting the rule of my dangerous father. No, Lord Varys, you were not doing it for this realm or any that I care for. Pray, my lord… why should I keep you alive?"

A mad look flashed in the eunuch's eyes, and then a look of horror so pitiful it almost made Rhaegar feel mercy. "Your grace, I was wrong. Your father is no longer fit to rule. He is too dangerous, he almost killed his own family. I proclaim you King Rhaegar the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and the Rhoynar, Lord of all Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I will give you information, valuable information. I will serve you better than I have served your father. I will serve the realm well and right, this time."

Rhaegar laughed. "And on what grounds have you changed your mind, Lord Varys? Because I have you? You have known for as long as you have serviced my lord father what he is like, what I am like, and what you should have done. They say you know everything, after all. And yet it has been only days since you and him tried to murder my own children. I have just received the news, did you know that? Surely not, you were tied up in a box, far from the reach of your little birds. So, you see… you're unlucky, you have arrived at my presence in a time when I'm not in the mood for mercy. I'm sorry, my lord… but whoever it is you serve or plan to serve is only yourself. And, I simply don't trust you."

The look of fright on Varys' face worsened, but this time, it inspired no mercy. Rhaegar knew that his body had been tense for a long while; prepared to do what he had to do, like a cat prepared for a leap. In a second, he had unsheathed his dagger, crossed the room, and slit the eunuch's throat.

That night, when Arthur entered Rhaegar's room, the prince proved that the events from earlier that day had affected him more than he thought they would.

He did not even say a word before grabbing the knight by the neck and kissing him. His body was in a feverish state, so nervous and shaky that he had sometimes touched Arthur too harshly, and sometimes too feebly. When they had taken their clothes off, he had almost torn every piece that he touched. His heart was still beating like a drum and his hands were still shaking.

When they were done, all that was left in him was sadness. He looked at Arthur's golden skin as it shone under the moonlight with sweat. It was lighter than Elia's, but darker than his. His fingers brushed the dark hairs on Arthur's chest absent-mindedly.

"That was my first kill. First time I killed someone was not as a knight, but as an executioner. Not a fierce warrior in battle that I killed, but an unarmed and tied up little man so weak and pathetic you could almost feel sorry for him," his voice sounded sad even to him.

He remembered what had happened after he had killed Varys. Cold sweat had covered him, and his voice, which used to be confident and menacing, was weak and shaking when he ordered his guards to take the body away and burn it out of sight. He had felt the breakfast that he had had on the ship rise to his throat, and kept it down with difficulty.

Arthur looked at him in sympathy. "You should have ordered me to do it," he said. "I have killed people before, I wouldn't have minded. He deserved it."

Rhaegar recoiled at the idea. "No. You are Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. You are not an executioner, you are a knight, and I value your honor above mine. I am going to become king, I have to get accustomed to doing dirty work for my reign."

Arthur sighed. "Speaking of your reign… when are we sailing to King's Landing?"

Rhaegar answered the question with another. "Has the message that we talked about been sent to Oswell?"

"Yes," Arthur replied.

Rhaegar answered him with a sad smile. "Then, I hope you have not yet unpacked. In the morning, we sail. I have to ensure that I submit to him before he harms my mother. I don't know how he would react to Varys' disappearance. Surely he doesn't know who's behind it, still… a madman does what he does and you can't predict it."

"Then," Arthur replied, "You will need every instant of sleep you can get, your grace," he said and his hand brushed Rhaegar's hair, then he got closer to him and kissed him, a kiss so soft he felt his heart beat a bit slower. "I love you, my prince."

The prince's knuckles brushes under Arthur's chin and felt the light stubble there scratch his skin, ever so lightly. "I love you too, my knight."

Arthur was still in bed when Rhaegar woke, and the sun had barely risen.

The prince donned his black cape, black breeches and dark grey tonic and surcoat with a three-headed dragon embroidered on it with garnets and cloth of silver. When he looked at his mirror, he noticed pale stubble had grown above his mouth and on his chin again. Good, he told himself. Let it grow into a beard and mustache, like Ser Barristan's.

In the past months, the prince had grown nigh on unrecognizable. He had remembered to shave less and less. His luscious silver hair was cropped short in the same fashion as Arthur's brown hair. Where he had always been tall and lithe but lean, he had now dropped considerable weight and the bones on his face had become more prominent, and he had now become willowy and his muscles had almost disappeared. When he looked at Arthur's perfect form on the bed, he felt embarrassed that he had forgotten to train and eat well. I will, once this is over. I still have to be a warrior; I still have to protect my children and my mother and brother. I can't only count on the Kingsguard to do so. They have not protected my mother from him.

But how different he had become from his old self was going to be something he would use to his advantage.

When Rhaegar finally made it to the raven tower, he had with him a quill, ink and paper. He sat down at the maester's table and wrote.

"Dear mother,

I have only a day ago made it to Tarth where I am a guest of Lord Selwyn for days because of troubles at sea. The winds were not our friend, and I am very late. I hope no harm has come to you because of my tardiness. I have obeyed my lord father's order to sail within the week of his letter, and sailed within days, as I'm sure Lord Varys has informed him.

I expect to see you in fourteen days, twenty if I'm unlucky. Until then, tell father not to harm you, for I am coming to do what he asked of me. Lord Varys will assure father that I have been obedient and discreet and that I have sailed as soon as I could. I hope the gods forgive him his slights and misjudgments of me, and I hope that you and my dear little brother will be safe and happy.

Your loving son, Rhaegar"

He was not foolish enough to think that his mother will be the one this letter would be delivered to. He wanted his father to think that he would arrive days later than he actually would. He would have no way of knowing otherwise; the spider was dead and cremated. He tied the parchment to a King's Landing raven's leg, and watched it fly away west.

He took up another parchment, this one to Prince Doran, and wrote down a promise and an invitation. When he was done sending it, he descended the raven tower and went about to find the men that would sail with him.  

The Prince of Dragonstone hated King's Landing as much as he loved its smallfolk.

The city stank of fish and piss and horse manure (and all sorts of manure, in fact.) It was too noisy for him, and too stinky, and too crowded. The city watch had worked day and night to limit thievery, treachery, murder and rape, but he had no doubt that some of them partook in them, themselves. Atop Visenya's hill, stood the Sept of Baelor, and right under its nose, the alleys of the street of silk sprawled like serpents, and the street of a thousand whores mocked Baelor and his gods and their sept.

But Rhaegar reminded himself that, for centuries, House Targaryen had allowed the castle on Aegon's High Hill to be an even bigger mockery.

For centuries, House Targaryen had married brother to sister, snobbishly passing on useful alliances with the lords of Westeros. For centuries, one feeble king came after one foolish king after one mad king. The kings of Westeros had allowed their heirs their debaucheries and misdeeds and neglected to teach them what true kingship was, and the results were the likes of Aegon the Unworthy, Baelor the Blessed and Aerion Brightflame.

But Rhaegar intended to change that. From now on, House Targaryen will be what true kings should be.

When his ship landed in the port of King's Landing, it no longer bore the three-headed dragon mast. Instead of his luxurious ship, Rhaegar had taken an old ship that had just been repaired from the Targaryen fleet, smaller than the newer and faster ones. When he, Arthur and the men landed, they wore hooded robes and looked like monks. Beneath the robes, they all had their smallclothes, breeches, shirts and chainmail on. The robes were big enough to hide their weapon belts and their swords hung beneath them.

"Begging brothers," Rhaegar said to the city watchman guarding the port when he asked where they came from and their purpose. "From Maidenpool. Lord Mooton is a godly man, he gave us this ship so that we could come to King's Landing and preach."

The officer snickered. "To whom, the whores?"

Arthur smiled. "And the men who frequent them."

"I hope the lot of you have begged enough. A silver stag from each of you to enter the capital."

Rhaegar paid up in a pouch made of a dirty and rough cloth; perhaps the only that a begging brother could afford. The officer counted the coins and nodded. "Off you go," he said, and in seconds, Rhaegar and his men were out of sight.

It was only an hour before dusk, and the light of day was already beginning to thin. Hours separated them from the time they would enter the castle; hours they had to waste. In the crowded and stinky streets, the prince found himself desiring solitude, with only him and Arthur. He gave each of his loyal men two golden dragons to do with as they pleased. "Go," he said. "Preach to those whores, and be back in a timely manner at the place we discussed. But be discreet while you're at it. You never know what a whore does in her spare time." The men laughed and went about their business.

"And we," Arthur said, "What do we do?"

"We head to the market and hear the gossip. It will be telling."

The market was even more crowded and stunk worse. The merchants sought to sell the last bits for the day before the sun was fully down, and so they were louder and even more demanding. But what he and Arthur observed amidst them was telling.

One man whispered to his friend (quite loudly) that the city watch has been more aggressive since the eunuch disappeared, as King Aerys has been demanding more arrests and seeing traitors everywhere, and was offering gold for the head of his kidnapper. An old woman who sold fish and was chatting with her customer said angrily that more and more people have been being burned, including two guards and a maiden of Viserys who was accused of trying to murder him because she was seen chatting with a stranger. "The poor girl," the old woman said. "He was only her lover, I know the lad. He is not a traitor nor a murderer of princes, he cried all day when it happened."

Another conversation was between an old man selling fruits and a customer.

"Where is Rhaegar in all this?" The customer asked. "His father is…" the man turned left and right to ensure he wasn't being listened to by any gold cloaks, and only saw two begging brothers. "Well, the man is insane. If he can rule, then I can go around all of Westeros in one night."

"Do you think that if Rhaegar came from Dragonstone, he would be a better king than Aerys?" Arthur asked, entering the conversation.

"Why, of course," the merchant replied instead of his customer. "I have dealt with the prince when he was younger. He came to the market and bought apples for his men. When he paid me, he gave me three dragons too many. I once spoke to a septa who works at an orphanage, and she said he frequently gave her money for the babes too." Rhaegar could remember such instances, but not this man nor that septa in particular. "He looked so strong and fierce, like Aemon the Dragonknight must have looked. A true warrior king. He is generous and wise. He will keep us fed in the winter, if only he drags his arse out of Dragonstone."

"And have you not heard anything about him recently?" Rhaegar asked.

"I heard he parted to Dorne to deliver his wife's bones to the Martells, and they say he is sailing back north." the customer said. "Last we heard of him, he was still in mourning. But seven hells, grief can only last for so long, his father is about to set the whole country afire and dance and laugh like a madman. I heard he laughs bawdily when he burns those poor people. He is a madman, I tell you."

Soon after, Arthur advised, in a low voice, that they leave the market, since some of the smallfolk there seemed to have met Rhaegar before and could recognize him.

It was less than an hour before the time of meeting with the men at the designated spot of one secret entrance to the Red Keep, and so, the prince and his knight found the place, stood there and waited.

The spot was an alley near Rhaenys' Hill that was almost deserted, and a wooden door of a certain building there was that of a passageway to the inside of the Red Keep. Rhaegar and Arthur sat on the floor by the door's side like the beggars they were dressed as.

I have the smallfolk, he thought to himself. I have the lords of Westeros. I have more than half the kingsguard, and I have the spider's ashes. What do you have, father? And why am I still trembling?

He felt Arthur take his hand in reassurance, and only then did he notice that his hands had been balled into fists so hard that his nails had dug into his palms. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Then their men showed up, and Arthur let go of his hand. They got up.

"Did you convert the whores into septas, lads?" Arthur asked, and the men laughed.

"I hope you have not blabbed." Rhaegar said. They all spoke all at the same time to confirm that they did not. Under the chainmail on his wrists, Rhaegar had hidden a slim key, he took it out and opened the wooden door.

"You still won't tell me how you acquired that?" Arthur asked.

"That's a story for another time," Rhaegar answered.

When the door opened, it revealed a small room with bare stone walls, with no furnishing anywhere. The pale light streaming in from the alleyway allowed them to see inside; a small patch darker than the rest of the floor was visible. Rhaegar entered the house and approached it, followed by Arthur. He knelt and felt the little patch with his hand until he felt it: a keyhole. He inserted that same key and spun it, and then slipped his fingers between the little door and the stony floor to raise it up. Before he jumped in, he gave the key to the nearest men to lock the door to the house. After he did, he looked around: It was a passage lined with candles on one of its walls. The ceiling was not very high; when he raised his hand, he could reach above the wooden door of the passage; it was built that way so that the door could be locked from the inside. Arthur jumped after him, and then came the rest of the men. When the last of them jumped in, Rhaegar ordered him to reach up and lock the door. He did, and passed the key to the prince.

The fourteen men walked for what seemed like little less than an hour. The passage twisted and turned; they sometimes had to climb up, or descend steep slopes. They would sometimes stop to pick their strength back, especially after climbs. And by the time they made it to the end, they had been covered in sweat and their hearts almost jumped out of their chests. That's when they saw more light.

Two men stood at the end of the passage with a torch, all in white and pale armor. One of them was plainly taller and broader, with black hair and stubble, and the other one was shorter, with golden hair and a face as soft as a maiden's.

"Brothers!" Arthur almost shouted at them. He ran and embraced Ser Oswell, laughing, and then shook the hand of young Jaime Lannister who looked at him like he was The Warrior himself. When the two knights recognized Rhaegar, whose stubble had grown into a beard and mustache (not as luscious as Ser Barristan's, but still very different from how soft his face used to be) and whose appearance had generally much changed, they knelt. Rhaegar took Oswell's hand and stood him up first, and they embraced. Then he took Jaime's hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Ser Jaime," he said. Jaime looked at him like… well, not as adoringly as he had looked at Arthur, but still with enough admiration. "Your grace, my king," the golden-headed boy said. His wide green eyes glimmered in the torchlight like a cat's.

"You are our king now," Oswell repeated. "The castle is yours, your grace. The guard are yours. Your father eased our task with how he treated the guard and servants after Varys disappeared. They have been waiting for you."

"Who in the castle isn't ours yet?" Rhaegar asked.

"All of the small council men who are here," Oswell replied. "Merryweather the hand, Velaryon, Staunton, Chelsted, Pycelle… The pyromancer too. And Barristan and Jon Darry."

Rhaegar was surprised. "We have Ser Gerold?"

"We do. I spoke to him."

"And who is with him in the throne room now?" Arthur asked.

"Barristan, of course, and Darry. Pycelle too. The pyromancer, and the Queen."

Rhaegar felt his heart skip at the word. Mother. "When it starts, you two are to take her to Maegor's holdfast. Keep her and Viserys in a room and shut the door, stay by their side at all times until I or Arthur come to you and say it's safe. Understood?"

Oswell nodded, and Jaime muttered "Yes, your grace."

"Good. Now, take me to my father. Let us put an end to this."

The passages of the Red Keep were better lit than that twisting secret passage that they had just come out of, of course, and much less steep.

"Your grace," he heard Jaime Lannister's voice from behind him while they walked. "Yes, Ser Jaime," Rhaegar answered him.

"I want you to know I… I wanted to stop the king from hurting her. Your lady mother. I heard her…" the boy choked on his words. Rhaegar's hands were balled into fists.

"There was nothing you could do, Jaime. No one could do anything to him. No one but me. It's my fault that he has been allowed to hurt people for so long. But, I'm here to put an end to it, now."

When they arrived at the throne room's gate, the guards posted outside turned their heads towards them, and only then, did they all remove their robes. The hood revealed Rhaegar's pale hair and the purple gleam of his eyes, and the robe revealed his clothing, embroidered with scales and garnets and three-headed dragons. Even with how much he had changed, there was no mistaking him. The guards knelt. "The castle is yours, my king," one of them said.

"Stand," he ordered them. "Open the gate."

In seconds, the guards were pulling the heavy wooden gate open for Rhaegar and his men.

The gaping eye sockets of dragons stared back at Rhaegar from where they were placed, adorning the walls. A crimson carpet stretched between Rhaegar and his father. The prince approached, his men close behind him.

As he was approaching, he got a better view of the audience in the room. The first to catch his eyes was his father. Atop the thorny chair and its steep stairs, the man sat, and had a look of fright on his face as bad as Varys' right before Rhaegar had slit his throat. A lock of his long her was hanging beside his face, matted and unwashed. The more details he caught of the man, the more he wanted to wretch. Pycelle looked like a fool, as he always did. By the look on his face, he had not yet recognized Rhaegar. The pyromancer stood farther from the throne and looked like a madman; afraid and ecstatic, both at once. Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor stood right by the stairs, and they only looked surprised. But after he was done looking at them all…

Oh, how beautiful she was, and how hurt.

Queen Rhaella was seated in a chair beside the steps of the iron throne. When she recognized her son, she looked like she had been walking the deserts of Dorne for years and found a spring of cool water. Her eyes teared up, and she was smiling. Before anyone could prevent her, she yelled his name, and in a second, she had left her chair and they were in each other's arms.

"Mother…" he mumbled, and buried his face in her hair. He felt her cry in his arms. "It's over," he whispered. "He will never hurt you again. I promise on my life."

She did not speak, only cried. He had to pull her out of his arms; not because he wanted it, but because she could not be there when it started. He would not have her harmed. When he looked at her face, he noticed that she was emaciated, and had a faded bruise beneath her eye and a scratch on her neck. He felt a fire in his chest. His voice was so cold when he said, "Ser Oswell, Ser Jaime, escort the queen to the safe location that we discussed."

The two knights came to stand behind their queen, waiting to take her. But she was holding on to her son. "Rhae, don't. Don't let him hurt you."

"I won't. I promise. But you have to go. Keep Viserys and yourself safe. Go."

She stood and looked at him with tears still in her eyes. Rhaegar filled his voice with as much sweetness as he could and whispered, "By order of your king." She smiled a sad smile between her tears, picked up his hand to kiss it, and walked towards the door with the two knights behind her, her eyes still locked on him, even turning her neck to look at him until she left the room. Only then, did he turn his gaze to his father.

"You…" Aerys said with a shaky voice. "Whelp. You traitorous dog."

Rhaegar turned to Ser Barristan Selmy. "Ser Barristan," he said, and took a scroll out of his pocket. "Come and read this."

The old knight approached Rhaegar and took the scroll from him. He unscrolled it and began to read the letter that Aerys had sent to Rhaegar in Dorne. When it came to the part where Aerys had threatened to kill Rhaella, Ser Barristan stopped in shock for a second and continued reading.

When he was finished, Rhaegar said, "This man has threatened to kill his own queen, his own sister. After I left Dorne, I received news that he has also tried to kill my children, his own grandchildren. He is a madman and a kinslayer, but I am not. The castle is mine. I have the guards, over half of the kingsguard, and when the extent of his madness reached the lords of Westeros, they reached an agreement with me to establish a regency. As Lord Protector of the realm, I hereby command you to seize the king and transport him to a chamber in Maegor's holdfast, as far from the queen and Prince Viserys as possible, for he has proven a threat to their safety. Ser Barristan, Ser Jonothor, I command you to stand down."

Rhaegar could see that Jonothor had given up while Barristan was still torn. But in the time it took Barristan to sort his options, three of Rhaegar's men had climbed the steps and seized the king.

"Gently," Rhaegar ordered.

When Aerys was in front of him, the mad king started laughing. Laughing, like he was seeing a man burn. "It is too late, traitor," he said.

"Too late?"

"Where is Rossart? Don't you wonder?" his father asked between laughs.

Rossart? Rhaegar looked around him. The pyromancer was nowhere to be seen.

"While you were busy ordering the capture of your own father, Rossart left. The last loyal one. He has left to give my last order to the guild of pyromancers."

Rhaegar stood and stared at his father. "Oh, you thought you were going to come here, arrest me, and have an easy kingdom?" he had stopped laughing now, but was still grinning. "You will rule over ashes, and you will become ashes yourself. I am the dragon. The only true dragon, the last true dragon, and I will be reborn from the ashes, and you will perish. You and all those traitors will perish between the green tongues of wildfire within the hour, and this entire treacherous city too. The wildfire is under every house, every tavern, every brothel, even the Sept of Baelor and the Red Keep. I will watch all of you burn."

[crownsoffrost-rpg-blog]

CERSEI LANNISTER | Lena Headey | Forty (40)

  ► Lady of the Westerlands

♚ PERSONALITY

     ✔ passionate, ambitious, bold      ✖ ruthless, shallow, paranoid

♚ HISTORY

Cersei is the eldest child of Tywin and Joanna Lannister, a few minutes older than her twin brother Jaime, who came into the world holding her foot. Cersei and Jaime were inseparable as children, often spending their time playing in the bowels of Casterly Rock, where Tytos Lannister kept his caged lions. Looking almost identical, Cersei was even able to wear Jaime’s clothes and sneak in to take lessons from the master-of-arms in his place. When they were very young, Cersei and Jaime started experimenting sexually, something discovered accidentally by a handmaiden. Having told Joanna about it, Jaime’s chamber was moved to the other side of the castle, whereas Cersei’s became permanently guarded. When Cersei was eight years old, her mother died giving birth to her young brother Tyrion. Because of this, Cersei profoundly despises him. Near a tourney hosted at Lannisport that was meant to announce Cersei’s betrothal to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Cersei visited the cottage of Maggy the Frog, a woman considered to be a frightening witch. Maggy correctly predicted that Cersei would become queen, bear three children, and that all of them would die kings and queens. Moreover, she was also told that a younger and more beautiful queen would come to take her place and that after she’d outlive all her children, the valonqar (little brother in Valyrian) would kill her. Because of this, she became certain Tyrion was the valonqar and her hatred for him only grew. Following Tywin’s failed proposal for Cersei as Rhaegar’s bride, Cersei was brought to King’s Landing alongside her father, who served as Hand of King Aerys II Targaryen. Upon hearing of Tywin’s intention to marry Jaime to Lysa Tully, Cersei managed to convince her brother to join the Kingsguard so he could stay unmarried and in her presence. Thinking of it as an intention to strip Casterly Rock of its heirloom, Tywin quit his position as Hand in a fit of rage and separated the twins once more by taking Cersei back with him to the Westerlands.

Following Robert’s Rebellion, Cersei was married to Robert Baratheon. Although ecstatic at the prospect at first, Cersei’s excitement faded when Robert whispered Lyanna Stark’s name while they were making love. She then resumed her relationship with Jaime and bore him three children: Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen, making sure to take measures to prevent Robert from impregnating her. After Jon Arryn’s mysterious death, Robert summoned Ned Stark to serve as Hand of the King. Cersei arranged Robert’s death during a hunt, so that Joffrey could ascend to the throne. During that time, Ned uncovered the truth about her children’s parentage, something that costed him his head. Now in the middle of the war, Cersei spent most of her time worrying over a captured Jaime and the uncontrollable ruthlessness of Joffrey, the newly appointed king. After the Battle of Blackwater, Cersei started deeply despising Margaery Tyrell, Joffrey’s soon-to-be wife as a bridge to strengthen an alliance between the Lannisters and Tyrells. During his wedding feast, Joffrey was murdered and Cersei falsely accused Tyrion and his wife Sansa Stark of it. She spent a lot of her time trying to sway those who’d judge at the trial to name Tyrion guilty and demanded the head of a now missing Sansa Stark. After Tyrion demanded trial by combat, Cersei named Ser Gregor Clegane as her champion, ensuring a victory against Oberyn Martell. After Tyrion’s release, Cersei mourned the death of her father, but she found strength in her new position of power as Lady of Casterly Rock. She appointed herself as ruler in Tommen’s stead and began a series of questionable leadership choices: she filled the Small Council with her own allies and refused to pay the Crown’s debts, which resulted in enraging important institutions such as the Iron Bank of Braavos and the Faith of the Seven. The kingdom soon spiraled into economical chaos, which Cersei attempted to fix by allowing the new High Septon (High Sparrow) to revive the Faith Militants. Using their power, she attempted to remove the Tyrells from their positions, believing them to conspire to seize control of the country. Her attempt started by having Loras Tyrell arrested for his amoral sexual preferences. Before she could continue with her plan that would have Margaery Tyrell arrested too, King’s Landing was invaded by Daenerys Targaryen and Cersei was banished to Casterly Rock, then ruled by a legitimized Tommen.

♚ PRESENT

Every night, Cersei boils with rage at the knowledge that Tyrion only had Tommen legitimized in order to sweep Casterly Rock’s heirloom from her hands. It doesn’t help that she is stuck under the same roof with Margaery Tyrell either. Cersei knows Margaery is aware that Loras’ imprisonment was her doing and lives in constant paranoia that she’ll seek revenge. However, Cersei plans to have the first strike by making use of her established connections. She wants a great deal of things -- to see Tyrion dead, to see Margaery Tyrell stripped of power, and to earn her power back, no matter the methods and consequences. Her plan is starting by trying to have Loras Tyrell returned to Highgarden, both by making him out to be as incapable, tainted, and unfit to lead Casterly Rock’s guard and by making use of her vast connections.

♚ CONNECTIONS

  JAIME LANNISTER - Because of her alcoholism, hysteria, paranoia, and thirst for power during her tenure as ruler, Cersei drove Jaime away from her. Their relationship has cooled down notably, especially now that they’re so far away from each other. However, she misses him greatly and seeks to redeem herself in his eyes.

  TOMMEN LANNISTER - Her love for Tommen is both Cersei’s curse and blessing. The boy is her whole life, but he is also the reason why Casterly Rock is no longer hers and he also silently judges him for his eagerness to give up the crown. Above all, she wants to protect him from Margaery’s claws and influence.

  MARGAERY TYRELL - Cersei has loathed Margaery from the very first moment and she’s aware that, now, they’re both playing a game in which only one of them will be left standing. Her plan to use the Faith Militants to arrest her is still standing and she plans to make her life a miserable hell by removing her family from her presence.

  PETYR BAELISH - Cersei has been aware of Littlefinger’s pursuit for power and she knows that he realizes he can’t reach his goals while Daenerys is in power, with Tyrion and Varys at her side. With his characteristic subtlety, he let her know that they can always join forces to remove their enemies from their paths.

MENTIONED IN: Jaime Lannister, Tommen Lannister, Margaery Tyrell, Tyrion Lannister, Loras Tyrell.

[springnix]

The Magic King Rules

Chapter 0           Son of the Earl

When reviewing history we often find that, in the rolling history torrent, even the wisest leaders make mistakes.

----《Episode 7, Chapter 35, The Chronicles of the Emperors - A Review of the Roland Era 》

This was an early afternoon in summer; the blazing sun up in the sky was ruthlessly emitting heat. The numerous guards who wore red armor were gathering in the port, the No.1 Dock, for the upcoming triumphant ceremony.

One hundred feet away from the dock were sheriffs on duty who have tried their best to keep this place in order. Many of their clothes were torn, the shiny badges were ripped off, the hats felt, and even their boots have been stepped on countless times and lost. Helplessly to find out they faced more than 50,000 enthusiastic citizens who had prepared flowers, cheers, and applause --- of course, some girls were ready to give out their hot kisses and even virginity. Feeling like a broken boat in the ocean, the 1,000 sheriffs were worried they were going to be overturned anytime.

At the moment the sheriffs were very envious of the Guards, who were standing on the dock inside the guard line, lines up in square leisurely, showing off their brightest brand new armors and weapons and need not worry about getting a scratch on their faces by those fanatic citizens.

To prepare for the grand event of the triumph, King Augustine VI, the great emperor ordered to double widen the Lancang Grand Canal to the imperial capital. Three million gold coins had been paid to ten thousand labors who had worked on the project for half a year.

All this had been done for the “DangDong”, the Imperial’s flagship of “X Expedition Fleet” could reach the port at outside the east gate of the Emperor, to accept the cheers of the peoples, to show off the powerful force of the empire. No one cared if was it worth for a show.

The former Minister of Finance, who first proposed his strong opposition to the river project, had been forced to retire by the King. His successor, the only choice for was to rack his brain to squeeze out some money from the country’s poor basket to satisfy the “boastful old man”, which off course, the Chancellor can only burry the thought in the deep of his heart, at the very bottom.

When the afternoon sun shone on the broad canal, the first sale outlined in the distance, “hurrah!” the people cheers.

People startled at the mighty outline as the two-hundred-feet-long warship slowly approach the harbor.

“DangDong”, the flagship of the sixth Expedition fleet is the pride of the imperial navy, the biggest battleship in its history.  The ship had been painted and renovated thoroughly for the great welcome ceremony. The hull, painted to fearful black, in the roar of cheer, approaching slowly to the harbor like a giant monster. A large flag with a throne flower on it fluttered in the wind on the mast.

The ship anchored, tens of thousands of people excited like boiling water, countless hats were thrown into the sky, countless people were stepped on to each other and lost their shoes, injured their feet. Those poor sheriffs who tried to keep the guard line were pushing backward and backward more, and more…

The Earl of Raymond, admiral of the Imperial Expedition Fleet, was standing on the deck of the ship watching the cheerful people with a poker face.

The thirty-nine year old Earl, First-Class Generals, was wearing a light armor, his most solemn costumes, with a red cape fluttering in the wind behind him. On his chest were two medals – from the last two expedition fleet. No doubt he would win the third one this time.

The Earl’s gaze was slackened, didn’t focus on the cheering crowd on the harbor. If going closer, you could find that his brow slightly frowned. He seemed somehow impatient.

Hell, this armor is too heavy, and very stupid!

A soldier on the navy fleet need not to wear a heavy armor, those are for the army. The Earl thought. To him it was more foolish to wear those medals which were like the upstarts showing off their wealth --- real nobility would not do that which made him feel beneath his identity.

Moreover, the cheering crowd down there was too noisy, like the wave of tsunami, eroding the Earl’s not so much left patience.

He looked down on the deck subconsciously, where the blood had been cleaned out before the deck was painted three days ago. It was all for today’s welcome ceremony. The deck broke in the expeditionary war had been re-lay, even the bow that had been damaged in a collision was replaced…hell, those who suck up to the King make the bow into the King’s statue, it is said that a famous sculptor rushed it out a few days ago.

That was another 10,000 gold coins.

It was indeed mighty, but those fools didn’t know the bow would be first destroyed in the battle when in a collision.  

To him the 10,000 gold coins were really wasted. A sharp wooden stake would work way better than the art of the sculptor.

In fact, going deep into his heart, Earl Raymond thought the so called Xth Empire Expedition Fleet was a ridiculous and absurdly wrong decision.

From decades ago, the Empire began its “Expedition” again and again to the Southern Sea region.

Admittedly, the Southern Sea has countless islands, as if scattered pearls spotted in the vast sea area where there were strange woods, gold, precious stones, spices, seafood, and indigenous tribes that were brutal and foolish.

However, with a dozen huge battleships to bully those indigenous small canoes, the Earl didn’t approve such an “expedition”. It was totally a predatory massacre, invasion, and robbery.

The Earl didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. The weak have always been bullied by the strong and need to be obedient to the strong. Upon the South Sea policy he thought that was a wrong decision: the so-called expeditions had been carried out too often and gained less and less.

In the early couple times of expedition, the mighty imperial navy swept the South Sea. A full load ship of gold, gemstones, seafood, and spices were brought back and the imperial was once a sensation.

Later the expeditionary force had to go even further after the native tribes in the Southern Sea closer to the mainland went extinct because of too much plunder. After all, even the richest granary can’t survive such frequent harvest. The extension of the voyage made it a tremendous task to the supply of the fleet.

After all, not only were there weak native tribes, gold,  and gemstones in the Southern Sea, but also hot weather, an ever-changing climate, terrible mountainous waves, and countless submerged reefs, whirlpools, windstorms…

Excessive harvest deserted the rich land, which could have become the imperial’s granary. Later on, the expeditions harvested less than once; ironically the triumph ceremony had been bigger than once.  

The Earl Raymond, the imperial Navy General, had commanded three expeditions in recent years, earned resounding reputations and a string of nicknames in the Southern Sea: The robber! The butcher! The executioner! He was the notorious aggressor in the heart of native tribes, and the devil who slave them and burned down their homes. His hands were covered in their blood.

Of course, the Earl wouldn’t care. The only thing that made him feel somehow disturbed was that the excessive aggression had stimulated the development of the native tribe in the Southern Sea, especially in terms of force. Before the returning, he heard that a coalition had formed in the furthest south to against the Empire’s endless robbery.

Fortunately, those bothersome things needed not for him to consider. He was clear that this would be his last expedition. Next, he would stay in the imperial capital. If everything went well he would get a prominent position in the Marshal Department. With his family influence, seven or eight years later he might become the new military minister after the old one retired. Or he might become the Prime Minister in the last few years of his political career if his luck was even better.

As for the expedition, F**k it, that is the headache for the next fleet commander to deal with.

The native tribes had developed the magic cannon now. Fortunately,  he was getting out of this mess.

In the heated waves of cheer, in the gaze of the crowd, the Earl walked down the deck of the flagship. His feet finally stepped on the imperial land. He waved to the cheering crowd, but more like driving away flies.

An officer dressed in royal court costume announced the commendation order from the Emperor and told him to see the Emperor tomorrow morning at the palace for receiving honors.

As he had whished, his political future was bright.

But then a servant in grey squeezed out from the crowd and whispered in his ear. The news made his heart sank down to the bottom.

The news came from home.

He had been away for more than three years. The vast sea had stopped him from hearing anything about his family.

The most important to him was his wife. She was pregnant three years ago when he left. Now, he hadn’t know if it was it a boy or a girl.

The news from home was: it was a boy!

But the boy seemed an idiot!

It was so close; the Earl was almost knocked down from the peak of happiness.

So close!

The imperial dignitaries who came to meet the commander could tell that his face was gloomy.