#and then the lannisters started a war against them when the starks were in the right

[norringtondeservestheworld]

the people of the north looking badly at Jaime and Tyrion is the most accurate and realistic thing that happened in the entire last season of GOT you can't change my mind

[jozor-johai]

This is just a short note I will expand on elsewhere, but GRRM has this somewhat infamous quote about LOTR, about what to do with the orcs after the story ends. This is about rulership—what happens after the conquest?

Ruling is hard. This was maybe my answer to Tolkien, whom, as much as I admire him, I do quibble with. Lord of the Rings had a very medieval philosophy: that if the king was a good man, the land would prosper. We look at real history and it’s not that simple. Tolkien can say that Aragorn became king and reigned for a hundred years, and he was wise and good. But Tolkien doesn’t ask the question: What was Aragorn’s tax policy? Did he maintain a standing army? What did he do in times of flood and famine? And what about all these orcs? By the end of the war, Sauron is gone but all of the orcs aren’t gone – they’re in the mountains. Did Aragorn pursue a policy of systematic genocide and kill them? Even the little baby orcs, in their little orc cradles?

Part of what I love to death about ASOIAF is that it seems fundamentally more interested in these questions than the excitement of the conquest itself.

I see this quote brought up about the Others every once in a while, but I also think that we might be seeing one iteration of this idea with Dany in Meereen and the children of the slavers:

“The Sons of the Harpy are laughing in their pyramids,” Skahaz said, just this morning. “What good are hostages if you will not take their heads?” In his eyes, she was only a weak woman. Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? “These murders are not their doing,” Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. “I am no butcher queen.” (ADWD Dany IV)

There are obvious differences—for a start, humans have the potential to grow up to be anything, rather than the known entity of the inherent evil when it comes to orcs.

In an ASOIAF-relevant context, though, the question is similar: you won, do you eradicate your enemies? Their remaining families? What if it looks like a direct path to peace for those you were fighting for? “What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children?”

Considering that slavery is some of the clearest evil we’ve seen in the books thus far, I think this is one way GRRM is be bringing his thoughts on fantasy rulership to a more human context in ASOIAF.

The issue of letting the children live (or not) also makes for another very interesting parallel between Dany and Robert Baratheon, who is another key figure in ASOIAF’s exploration for how one rules after the battle has been won. Barristan makes the connection nearly explicitly for the reader, standing up for Ned’s name:

“Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.” (ADWD Dany II)

Robert was faced with the same choice and, over the course of his reign, has been given two different takes, one to start his reign and one at the end of it. Robert’s peace was bought with the blood of Rhaegar’s children, the young Aegon and Rhaenys, delivered—albeit unsolicited—by the Lannisters, to cement Robert’s legitimacy and their own stake in his rule. At the end of his reign, Robert is faced with the premise of a new Targaryen baby being born and Ned offers an contrary opinion much like Dany’s own (in spirit if not in allegiance):

“Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?”

There’s plenty more to be said, but I just want to point out this angle for interpreting the GRRM LOTR quote. For one, sometimes people take issue with how literally GRRM himself is enacting his criticisms (saying things like, 'we never see Robert's tax policy either')—but this is a great example of how GRRM can raise a criticism that fits for a different series and make it work within his own world by adjusting the circumstances.

Also, I think that for discussions that attempt to predict where the story will go from here based on comments like this from GRRM, it’s important to see where GRRM is already exploring these ideas. In ASOIAF, this sort of application doesn’t require this idea to be explored with some kind of similarly-undying evil like the orcs or like Sauron, GRRM is applying these ideas to much more human evils, like slavery, and much more human applications, like any kind of military victory.

[goodqueenaly]

Who do you think Hoster was looking at for Lysa, before the Petyr Incident? There are relatively few Lords Paramount, and most of them and their heirs were taken. Would he consider his own bannermen? Other people's? Maybe a cross match back to the Whents?

We know whom Hoster wanted Lysa to marry in the months (and perhaps years) leading up to the tourney of Harrenhal:

Jaime, meantime, had spent four years as squire to Ser Sumner Crake-hall and earned his spurs against the Kingswood Brotherhood. But when he made a brief call at King's Landing on his way back to Casterly Rock, chiefly to see his sister, Cersei took him aside and whispered that Lord Tywin meant to marry him to Lysa Tully, had gone so far as to invite Lord Hoster to the city to discuss dower.

"You asked me to reward you for your efforts in the battle," Lord Tywin reminded him forcefully. "This is a chance for you, Tyrion, the best you are ever likely to have." He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. "I once hoped to marry your brother to Lysa Tully, but Aerys named Jaime to his Kingsguard before the arrangements were complete. When I suggested to Lord Hoster that Lysa might be wed to you instead, he replied that he wanted a whole man for his daughter."

Jaime could see archers moving behind the merlons on the castle ramparts. Above them streamed the banners of House Tully, the silver trout defiant on its striped field of red and blue. But the highest tower flew a different flag; a long white standard emblazoned with the direwolf of Stark. "The first time I saw Riverrun, I was a squire green as summer grass," Jaime told his cousin. "Old Sumner Crakehall sent me to deliver a message, one he swore could not be entrusted to a raven. Lord Hoster kept me for a fortnight whilst mulling his reply, and sat me beside his daughter Lysa at every meal."

What Hoster imagined for Lysa between the tourney and the outbreak of Robert’s Rebellion (as well as her pregnancy by Peter Baelish, whenever Lysa revealed that vis a vis the start of the war) is uncertain, though I think it’s important to keep a few points in mind. Number one, this period was likely pretty short, certainly relatively speaking; if the “false spring” of 281 AC lasted only two months, and baby Aegon was born by the end of 281 AC or, at the latest, at the very very beginning of 282 AC, there may have been only a handful of months for Hoster to consider Lysa’s marital future before the next major bombshell on the political scene (followed by the more personal, but perhaps nearly equally shocking to Hoster, bombshell of Lysa’s pregnancy news). However long Hoster had been considering and planning the now-impossible Lysa-Jaime match, I doubt he had nearly as much time post-tourney to think about what he was going to do with Lysa nuptially. There were likely, as you mention, no obvious replacements who would serve the aims of the southron ambitions bloc, nor any obvious candidates Hoster may have considered sufficiently grand enough to match with the future sister-in-law of the Lord of Winterfell and indirect relation by marriage to the Lord of Storm’s End (and that’s without Hoster perhaps worrying that any marriage he arranged for Lysa too quickly after the tourney would be seen as trying to hush up a scandal - Hoster trying too hard to prove that Lysa was desirable, when Jaime Lannister had for all appearances chosen to go celibate rather than marry her). Indeed, that Hoster summarily and haughtily rejected Tyrion as a bridegroom for Lysa, presumably in this pre-war period, demonstrates that Hoster was not feeling so anxious about Lysa’s future that he needed to rush into just any aristocratic marriage for her (certainly not that he and a number of other Westerosi lords considered an insult).

Maybe more importantly, certainly from a political perspective, Hoster may have been less interested in trying to broker a match for Lysa in this period and more interested in performing damage control and shoring up the future with his allies in the southron ambitions power bloc. To all the world - certainly all or virtually all the attendees at Harrenhal -  Rhaegar had looked like he was trying to make Lyanna Stark his mistress, grossly publicly insulting Robert Baratheon and the Starks (among others) - and with the Starks the fulcrum of the southron ambitions bloc, Hoster may have feared that the web of nuptial alliances on which that bloc rested its future was in jeopardy. Too, with the king and his heir so dramatically and publicly at odds - and with Aerys so shockingly declined in appearance and personality, as evidenced by his attendance at the tourney - Hoster may have suspected that open conflict between the king and the crown prince leading to civil war, or a proxy conflict for their antagonism erupting into civil war, would come sooner rather than later; if the ultimate aim of the southron ambitions power block was to change the political power dynamic between the Iron Throne and its major vassals, this sort of conflict may have seemed like the ideal, or only, opportunity to do so. Securing the bloc before any move would be undertaken would mean securing those established and planned, but not yet completed, marital alliances - first Brandon and Catelyn, then Robert and Lyanna. Perhaps, in this flurry of politico-nuptial activity, Hoster considered the identity of Lysa’s future husband of secondary importance; Lysa, still only in her early teens, was not so old (even by Westerosi standards, *eyeroll*) that Hoster needed to fear her being left a spinster while he attended to what he may have considered more pressing matters.

[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. iii : A King's Command

Chapter Summary: Speculations conspire in court before the Celtigars and Targaryens sit for their supper reunited.

Word count: 3175

Sneak Peak: Valeana crunched down on her plum, chewing loudly, rudely, and slowly.  “If you wish to marry Aemond, sweet sister, you have my permission, my blessing,” Valeana spat out the pit crudely. “I’ll even make your dress. But you must promise me one thing.” She leans in over her knees so her eyes level with Floris’--

Warnings: None, i think.

T H E  G R E E N S��

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“It is a mistake for the Celtigars to be here,” Aemond said plainly when he reached the safety of the study in the Hand’s Tower. His grandsire sat, pouring over letters and creating a list of confirmed guests. “Their apartments could have hosted a more influential house – The Baratheons will arrive before any other. They would have made better use of those rooms.”

Otto glanced up at his grandson, and then back at his letters, “I agree.”

“Then why didn’t you protest against it?” He pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto a table before moving over to a pitcher and pouring himself a goblet of wine. 

“I did. I had proposed many other alternatives; The Lannisters, the Starks, my own brother and his family. But your father will not budge. He insists on making amends with all Valyrian houses.”

“I fear his intentions extend further than simply brokering peace,” Aemond settled into a chair before the Lord Hand. 

At his words Otto lifts his head again, then leans back into his chair, “You believe he intends to petition to renew your betrothal to Bartimos’ eldest blood daughter?” 

Aemond shrugged, eye darting away at the mere mention of Valeana Celtigar, “It would make sense, would it not, grandfather? He specified in his invitation that he wishes to unite the Valyrian houses at last.”

“He- did,” Otto conceded and steepled his hands, “Though he could obtain this without forcing you to marry a girl you clearly have no regard for.”

“Helaena and Aegon are already to be betrothed, I am the next child of his that is unaffixed.”

“His Grace has yet to go with that arrangement, if you failed to notice. He may find a better match for your sister in Clement Celtigar.”

Aemond made a face. He couldn’t see his sister being Lady of Claw Isle. 

“He could also wed Aegon—”

Before Otto finished his sentence, Aemond scoffed, shaking his head, “He will not waste his first born son on such an insignificant house. No, Aegon will marry Helaena or he will marry a highborn lady of a much more influential house. If my father is wise, that is how it should be.”

Otto’s eyes narrowed at the prince, “King Viserys may be wise, but he is also blinded by optimism, by fantasies of peace begot by love matches.” It was the whole point of this charade. It was a woman’s fantasy, that peace could be achieved by the love of a woman, but history tends to favour the opposite. It is the love of a woman that tends to start wars. “You forgot his third son, Aemond. You are not the only bartering piece he has.” 

“Hm,” Aemond purses his lips. It was so easy to forget about Daeron. He lived his entire life in Oldtown, and Aemond had only known his brother through letters and descriptions from his mother’s brother. For the first time since his infancy, Daeron would be returning home, to stand beside the strangers he calls brothers and sister. “And would you approve of a betrothal between Daeron and a Celtigar?”

Otto indeed had plans for Daeron, ones that were actively taking place. But he was a smarter man than his grandson, and knew not to voice his ambitions, even with trusted company. Besides, Aemond’s line of questioning felt self-deprecating, as if he was trying to find excuses to make his suspicions valid. Of all the stoic dignity that his grandson had, he was still a young man, still easily influenced by emotions he did not understand. 

“I heard Lady Valeana has become quite comely,” Otto chose his words carefully, whilst eyeing Aemond closely. “Your brothers could do worse.” 

Aemond grit his jaw, his eye gazing into the goblet in his hand, “Hm. I suppose we shall see. In less than a moon, we will have every eligible maid in the realm to choose from.” 

“Then I would not fret over the Celtigars, Aemond,” Otto casted one last look at him before returning his attention to his letters. “They will also have the pick of the Realm’s finest knights and lords. I am sure Lady Valeana will not struggle to find a match, and then she will no longer be your problem.”

T H E   R E D S

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Aegon Targaryen sealed his fate when he kissed the knuckles of his doom, who went by the name of Shyla Celtigar. 

“And his lips stayed upon my hand longer than what is proper. Five seconds, I’ve counted!” Shyla spun around the room, hands pressed to her bosom as she looked up to the heavens in her delusional bliss. 

“Hells,” Floris rolled her eyes as she slowly took off her earrings to give her lobes a break from their weight. “Not this noise again.”

“Why are you surprised?” Valeana circled the solar, the same solar that she and her sisters shared as children. Not much has changed, save for the tapestries. They were no longer the ones she had made. “You know how she is.” 

“And the way he looked at me! He was staring at me the entire time, didn’t you notice?” Shyla collapsed into a settee next to Floris. “I think we are in love.” 

Floris stared back at her sister with a deadpan expression. After a second beat of silence, she asked, “Was that not the case with Ser Colin? Or Lord Steffon, or Wyl the stablehand?” 

“Wyl,” Shyla sunk into her body, a dreamy look on her face at the mere mention of the boy she had ‘fallen in love with’ only days before departing Claw Isle. “Our love was never meant to be. I am of noble birth… and he… really likes horses. Like more than a man sh–”

“Enough! I do not wish to hear it,” Floris raised a hand, and Valeana cackled in the background. “I would not get your hopes up with Aegon, Shyla. You will only hurt yourself again.” 

Shyla pouted, “And why’s that?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” She looked at her and then at Valeana, “His Grace wants to unite the three Valyrian houses. He has three unwed sons, and our Lord father has three unwed daughters. The Celtigars are the only Valyrian house that has not united with the Targaryens.” 

Shyla’s eyes go wide, “But that means Aegon and I–”

“No, you fool,” she shook her head, “He would not wed Aegon to you. He will wed eldest to youngest, it is only fair, it is the only sensible decision.”

That is when Valeana paused her pacing. By her step-sisters logic, Val would marry Aemond, which would not go over well between both her and Bartimos.

“But you are not a Celtigar,” Val reminded her, earning her a vicious glare from Floris. Val merely shrugged, “It is the truth. You may share a relation, but you are a Grafton first and a Frey second.”

“So father would have you marry Aegon? Is that what you desire, sister?” Floris huffed, barely containing her derisive amusement at her sister’s arrogance. “Is this your way of getting back at Aemond One-Eye?”

It was Val’s turn to roll her eyes, “I wouldn’t marry Aegon Targaryen even if they gave me a dragon egg as payment. And this has nothing to do with Ae– him. There are other Targaryens and other Celtigars. Clement is our house’s heir, and Prince Daemon has two unwed daughters. Father has held more correspondence with Dragonstone than he has with anyone else, it makes more sense.” 

“So that means I will marry Aegon!” Shyla’s face broke out in a large grin. 

The two eldest sisters snapped their heads to attention towards her. 

“No–”

“Yes–”

Then they both looked at eachother. 

“Do not fill her head with any more delusions, Valeana,” Floris spoke through clenched teeth.

Val shrugged, “It’s funny, and I’m bored.”

Floris ran her hand over her broad forehead before returning to their original conversation, “Father would be a fool if he did not wed us to one of Viserys’ sons. We grew up together–”

“Father distrusts Viserys’ sons. He may love the King as both his sovereign and friend, but that love does not extend to the princes. He will not see us marry them,” Val relaxed into an armchair, casually plucking a sugared plum off a tray. 

By us, she means Shyla and herself, Floris speculated. Her eyes narrowed as she straightened her back, “He won't see you marry them. But Shyla and I do not share the same story as you do. And quit eating, we are going to sup soon.”

Valeana crunched down on her plum, chewing loudly, rudely, and slowly. 

“If you wish to marry Aemond, sweet sister, you have my permission, my blessing,” Valeana spat out the pit crudely. “I’ll even make your dress. But you must promise me one thing.” She leans in over her knees so her eyes level with Floris’, “You must admit to our sister that Aegon is indeed in love with her.” 

Shyla gasped. 

Floris groaned. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Clement stood by the door while his lord father paced his solar, and his step mother preened herself in a looking glass. 

“So the craven decided to show his face,” Bartimos’ lip curled. “Late. A great insult.” 

“You would see it as an insult still had he come on time, my dear,” Ursula spoke sense. “You knew your daughter would eventually have to cross paths with him while we were here.”

Bartimos huffed, finally stopping as he placed a hand on the back of a chair to steady himself, to ground himself. He looked down at the floor as he steadied his breathing, and then faced his son again, “I hope he shook in his boots.”

“Valeana stood her ground,” Clement shrugged, “Though they did not speak to each other directly.” 

He remembered the way they looked at each other though. His sister stared up at the man who maimed her as if he were a window she was gazing through, and Aemond looked down at her like she was a nightmare come to life.

“That’s my girl,” Bartimos pounded his fist on the back of the chair. “She is strong, like her mother. She will get what is owed to her.”

“And what is that exactly,” Ursula leaned away from her looking glass to impassively look at her husband. “She walks now, so she no longer lacks what he has taken away from her.”

“I hear the prince has a large sapphire for an eye,” Clement offered, “I say we pluck it from his skull and give it to my sister on the end of a gold chain.” 

Bartimos pointed at his son, “I like the way your head works, my boy.”

“Have both of you lost your heads?” Ursula stood up from her seat, her skirts swishing as she moved. “We are guests of the bloody King of the Seven Realms. Guests of honour! We are in no position to make demands for old wounds that have already healed!” 

Both Bartimos and son looked away, clicks in their jaws. Being reprimanded by a woman with common sense was always so humiliating, even in the privacy of their own quarters. 

“Honestly, remind yourselves why we are here: marriages. Alliances. I expect all my children to be promised to another by the end of this Conclave, whether they are a bloody Targaryen, or a Valeryon, Lannister, Tyrell, Tully, Stark, Arryn, I do not care– As long as you are all out of my hair.”

Bartimos shared a look with Clement as silence settled the argument. Ursula went back to her preening, and the only noise that was left was Lord Celtigar’s fingers tapping the wooden surface of the chair he still leaned on. 

“Valeryon, huh?”

T H E  G R E E N S 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Aemond was not given the privilege of being tardy for supper that evening. It was his father himself who came to collect him from his quarters. Flanked between two white cloaks, the King was announced as he stepped through the threshold, and then the two knights were promptly dismissed.

“Father,” Aemond stood, his back ram-rod straight. He wasn’t entirely sure when his father had ever stepped foot in his private quarters. Perhaps when he first learned how to crawl. “To what do I owe the honour?”

“You did not come when I summoned you,” Viserys walked over to the nearest chair to relax his legs. He had been walking far too much that day, and even if his health was improving with every sinnight, he still grew weak after hours of overexertion. “You are lucky your absence did not create tension.”

“My presence would have, father,” Aemond reasoned as he stood in front of his sire, leaning against the table. “But forgive me, it was not my intention to not be present–” a lie “-- I was delayed. Though, I happened upon the Celtigars on my way down.”

“I heard,” His father placed his cane between his legs and balanced a hand on it. “Why do you make it your mission to insult them?”

“I mean no insult.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Aemond’s eye flickered away from his father, “Hm.” 

“You never did explain why you did it,” Viserys’ voice was softer then, forcing Aemond to look back upon his father. “You and Valeana were quite close. Closer than you ever were to your brother or sister.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he tried to forget about memories of laughter beneath the Heart Tree. Of heads resting on shoulders from a long night of reading together. Of lips pressed on the bleeding tip of a finger where a needle pricked. 

“Perhaps you did not look close enough, father. Lord Bartimos’ girls had been a thorn in our sides for half our lives. It was not just me that the girls vexed so much, but Aegon and my nephews. They followed our heels like hungry mutts, and would not give us a reprieve.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair and tapped his cane onto the floor in thought, “They fancied you boys. Is that a crime?”

Aemond swallowed slowly, remembering green eyes welled with tears and betrayle.

“They were annoying with their affections, father. I will not apologize for acting like a child when I was one.”

“You will,” Viserys began to stand again, putting his weight on his cane. With a chin lifted, he continued, “You will make amends with Lady Valeana. She did not deserve what you did to her that day; child or no, you acted selfishly, recklessly, and cruelly.”

Aemond’s lips thinned as he regarded the floor next to his father’s cane, his hands curling into a fist at his side. He never apologized a day in his life, and why should he? The world was cruel to him and offered him no apology, and it made him stronger. He didn’t need his brother’s apology, nor Luke’s for taking his eye, nor did he need to offer Rhaena an apology for claiming Vhagar. And he certainly did not need Valeana’s forgiveness. He lived well the last ten years without it.

“Oh!” His hand jerked from uncorking the bottle of stolen wine. The burgundy liquid spit out and landed all over Valeana’s purple gown. She gasped, “Aemond! My dress!”  The prince cringed, and then scrambled to apologize. “I’m–I’m terribly sorry… It was an accident. Hells, I’ve ruined this, haven't I? I just wanted your name day to be special–” “Aemond,” her hand found his forearm, trying to cease his rambling. “It’s-It’s fine, it’s just a dress.” “But it’s brand new – It looks expensive… I’ll make this right, I promise. I’ll have a new one made – a better one!” “Aemond!” She giggled, like music to his ears. Her other hands clasped his face and pinched his cheeks to get him to stop talking. “I forgive you. It was an accident. I forgive you.”

“If you wish it, father.”

“I do not wish it,” Viserys took a step towards his second son. “I command it.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Supper was served in the Small Hall. Aemond had arrived steps behind his father, and behind him followed his mother and grandsire. His brother and sister were already present, as were their guests of honour. Viserys took his place at the head of the table, his Queen at his left, and Lord Bartimos at his right. One by one people took their chairs, aligning with age. After Alicent, was the Lord Hand, and next to him Aegon, Helaena, then Aemond. On Aemond’s left sat Arthor, the youngest of House Celtigar, and so far the least troublesome. 

From Bartimos’ right, sat his Lady wife, then his heir, Clement, followed by Floris, Valeana, and lastly, Shyla. Valeana sat directly across from Aemond, and he wondered if this was by design. He had never seen his father sit at the head of the table, having preferred the middle, where he had access to all the food and drink. 

They all descended into their chairs after the King relaxed into his own. He wore a smile the moment he stepped into the hall, and it broadened when he gazed upon the faces that sat before him. 

“We have not sat like this in a decade,” Viserys states what they all have been thinking. He reached and grabbed onto Bartimos’ forearm, “Barty, my old friend. I have missed your company.”

Bartimos smiled, using his other hand to clasped the king’s, “And I yours.”

Aemond’s eye flickered between the two, wondering if it was going to be mentioned why their friendship was severed in the first place. Then his eye landed on the woman who sat in front of him, her attention pulled over to the end of the table. She removed her headpiece for the evening, allowing him a better view of the plaits that pulled the hair away from her face and united as one knot that settled on her thick bed of hair. The Valeana he remembered hated wearing her hair down; she was always uncomfortable under the heat of King’s Landing, and how the sweat would gather on the back of her neck. 

Was her hair always that long and thick? Did she not feel hot right now?

Aemond’s attention moved from the crown of her head to the curve of her neck. She didn’t have her sisters’ long elegant swan necks, but it was no longer armoured by a layer of fat. He remembered that beauty mark, right there on the side; it looks smaller than he remembered. 

Before Aemond’s eye could go further south, the sound of a chair being pushed back pulled him into the present. Apparently, his father had been exchanging pleasantries between Bartimos, but what was said was lost to Aemond. His father stood at the front of the table with a goblet in his hand, and peace in his heart. 

“To old friendships,” he toasted, eyes sweeping over the table before landing on his second son. “And forgiveness.” 

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos

(if you wish to be tagged for updates, please reply and ask!)

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[inkandarsenic]

these hollow empty spaces (3)

"do what is right, not what is easy."

Synopsis: The youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister refuses to stand idly by, and the currents of fate shift.

Pairing: Robb Stark x Lannister!OC

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers but like enemies more in the political sense

Pt. 3

masterlist | first | previous | next

It was truly remarkable how quickly things had gone downhill.

When Ned Stark had first been arrested, Robb Stark had raised his banners and started a march to King’s Landing in protest. Tywin, in response, had called his own banners and gone to meet Robb in war.

Eleyna, in turn, had contacted her uncle — war was expensive, the Iron Throne was already indebted to the Westerlands, and now the westerlords were having their resources and men taken to fight the Iron Throne’s war, a war Joffrey started. It couldn’t continue, and Eleyna had no intentions of keeping the people she would one day be responsible for under the Iron Throne that was draining their coffers and taking their sons.

Her uncle, after several heated letters of argument, agreed that the Westerlands were in a sorry state when compared to just 14 years ago, and agreed to speak to the westerlords and convince them of her plan of secession.

It was… slow-going. Hard, to sit in king’s landing and just trust that her uncle was doing as he said, even as he joined her father in his military encampment. Still, Eleyna had hoped that her plans wouldn’t be needed — that Lord Stark would be released and the war would end before it could really begin.

And then Joffrey had gone and taken Ned Stark’s head, and plunged the realm into veritable chaos.

****

The tree was a sorry outlet for his grief and rage. Robb wanted something that fought back, wanted blood — but he could not take his emotions out on his soldiers, he could not be so weak as to cry in front of his bannermen, so the tree it was.

The raven carrying the news of his father’s death had come in the morning, and Robb hated the pitying, sympathetic looks everyone gave him as he’d read the message out. He’d gone into the woods at the first opportunity.

“Robb.”

It hurt, more than anything he’d felt before. A hollow, empty space in his chest that ached with every grunt, every swing of his sword. Was this how his father had felt, when the Mad King burned his own father and brother? The tree blurred in his vision.

“Robb.”

Wood chips flew with every thudding slice of his blade; he felt nothing but anger. What comfort could the tree offer, what did the bark know of grief? His father was dead. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Robb!” He stopped, chest heaving, and looked. His mother was in front of him, a shared pain in her eyes. “You’ve ruined your sword.”

So he had. He dropped it into the dirt. His mother met him halfway as he came towards her and he collapsed into her arms as he had when he was a child.

“I’ll kill them all,” he cried into her shoulder, and meant it. He’d been a fool, all these months, imagining that he could still be friendly at the very least with Eleyna — Lady Eleyna, his mind corrected — even as he marched to war against her family. He’d read the letters from Sansa that had mentioned Lady Eleyna being in King’s Landing. But where had she been, when his father was being accused of treason, when Sansa had been forced to write that raven message calling Father a traitor, when his father was executed? Where had friendship been then? No. Lady Eleyna was a Lannister, the heir to the Lannister seat. He’d have her head just as he’d have the rest. “Every one of them. I’m going to kill them all.”

His mother held him close, one hand on the back of his head and for a moment he closed his eyes and imagined he was a little boy again, and the worst thing that had ever happened to him was a scraped knee.

“They have your sisters,” his mother reminded him. “We have to get the girls back.” Her voice turned dark with grief-filled promise. “And then we will kill them all.”

****

So Joffrey was a terrible king. A terrible person, as became more apparent by the day. Even Cersei didn’t seem able keep a rein on his darker tendencies, or if she could, clearly didn’t care to try.

Case in point: Eleyna stood in court silently, to the left of the dais Cersei and Joffrey sat on, trying not to grimace at the bard sitting in the center of the throne room. She’d never really liked Robert, but the song was… distasteful nonetheless.

“—the Lion ripped his balls off aaaand…” The bard glanced up at the Queen Mother and seemed to hesitate before quickly finishing, “theboardidalltherest.”

Eleyna could see Cersei’s faint, polite smile tighten. The court was silent for a moment before Joffrey clapped, and the rest of them followed suit.

“Very amusing,” Joffrey said. “Isn’t it a funny song?” Hesitant laughter rippled through the assembled lords and ladies. “Thank you for your rendition. I imagine it was even better received at that tavern.”

The bard started apologizing, but Joffrey would have none of it, and made the man choose his fingers or tongue to be cut out. Eleyna looked at her elder sister with a hint of disbelief — Cersei watched the proceedings with the same faint smile she regarded all that Joffrey did with. Eleyna huffed — her sister’s parenting left much to be desired.

“I’m done for the day,” Joffrey announced as the bard screamed for mercy, standing and removing his crown. “I’ll leave the rest of the matters to you, mother.” He turned a mocking smile on Eleyna and beckoned her up to the dais. “You must have learned something from Grandfather all those years playing at heir, Aunt, you can give my mother what… little counsel you’re capable of.”

Eleyna watched her nephew walk away and wished desperately for a moment that they weren’t in court so she could smack the boy the way Tyrion often did. He stopped to speak to Sansa Stark — the poor girl was watching the bard lose his tongue with an faraway stare, and Eleyna frowned, concerned. Sansa was still betrothed to Joffrey, and frankly, doing an admirable job of it, but Joffrey was… Joffrey. Eleyna worried that the sweet, idealistic girl she’d met in Winterfell would struggle to survive Joffrey and the Southron courts. Hm. Something would have to be done about that. Maybe arrange for her to spend some time with her sister — surely Arya Stark was bored to tears locked away in her room all the time.

Eleyna watched her nephew leave with his betrothed, then leaned close enough to Cersei to not be overheard. “Will you admit now that you’ve raised a little tyrant who shouldn’t be king?”

“I would be careful were I you, dear sister,” Cersei said just as lowly, a sharp smile on her face. “Those are treasonous words.”

“What has it come to, that the truth is treason?”

“What it’s come to is that Joff is King,” Cersei said sharply. “And he is a wonderful king. There is no truth to your words, sister. I only hear jealousy. No amount of your power grabbing will ever grant you the power of the Throne.”

“Being Father’s heir is not ‘power grabbing’, sister. You’re deliberately misreading my words.”

Cersei ignored her and waved the first petitioner forward. Eleyna sighed and settled in for a long afternoon.

****

“They have Jaime.”

Eleyna blinked. It was so late at night that most of the Keep was abed, but Cersei, as was her wont, had swept into Eleyna’s room unannounced, in a dressing gown and a furious fit. “Sorry?”

“That Northern brat and his army,” Cersei spat, stopping in front of where Eleyna sat. “It’s not enough that he declared war, he’s taken Jaime hostage.” She tossed a piece of paper onto the table. “The message arrived not half an hour ago.”

Eleyna sat frozen for a moment, then leaned forward and seized the letter, scanning quickly. “Northern force 2,000 strong crushed at the Green Fork, Stark’s army of 18,000 defeated Jaime’s forces at the Whispering Wood, Jaime held as prisoner. Oh.” She looked up. “Some good news — Tyrion is with Father.”

“Oh, who cares about the little monster?” Cersei waved away. “They have Jaime.”

“How your care for others warms me,” Eleyna muttered, rolling her eyes. “Do you honestly think Robb is going to, what, execute Jaime? Jaime’s far too valuable a political prisoner, he’s highborn, both Kingsguard and a King’s uncle. If Robb has any sense — and he didn’t strike me as a fool — Jaime will be used for negotiations or a trade or something.”

“Robb?” Cersei’s eyes narrowed. “How… familiar.”

“Don’t start,” Eleyna sighed. “You’re the one who insisted I walk with him at the feast in Winterfell. You can’t be upset that I made friends with him.”

“He’s a traitor to the Crown,” Cersei said flatly. “Whatever friendships you may have formed, they’re through now. Not to mention, he has our brother hostage!”

“What, exactly, do you want me to do about it, Cersei?” Eleyna shook her head. Robb was… he’d been kind, in Winterfell. She had to trust that his honor would lend him to be as kind as possible to his prisoners. “Would you have me storm the Northern army alone, stage a rescue operation? I’m here in King’s Landing, same as you.”

Cersei humphed, glaring into the fire. She knew as well as Eleyna did — there was nothing to be done, not tonight at least, and not by either of them. Were Cersei the type of woman to bite her nails (“It’s horribly common behavior, Eleyna, can’t you at least try to act a lady?”), Eleyna suspected she would have chewed them to the quick by now. As it was, Cersei simply sniffed and barely glanced at Eleyna as she turned to leave. “Well. You’re informed, at the least. For all the good that does.”

Her voice had an angry bite to it, and Eleyna bristled. The raven message crumpled in her fist. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing at all,” Cersei murmured after a long moment. “I’m sure you’re just as worried as I.”She swept out of the room.

“‘For all the good that does’,” Eleyna muttered in a mocking voice. “Gods above, she’s infuriating.”

Still. It was worrying news, that her brother — the one sibling she could usually rely on to be there when she needed him — was a prisoner of war. It made the war seem far too real and far too close to home.

Not that Eleyna thought it would last for very long. She didn’t doubt for a second that her father would do everything in his power and then some to bring Jaime home — he was, after all, the favorite child. She was under no illusions — the only reason she was the heir to Casterly Rock was because Tywin could not convince Jaime to leave the Kingsguard, and he would die before giving it to Tyrion. Jaime was the golden son, the favored child, the intended heir. Eleyna was simply the living reminder of the broken oath to never remarry after Joanna — the oath Aerys Targaryen had forced Tywin to break — and she hadn’t even had the decency to be a son.

****

It was only a few weeks later that Eleyna stood at the gates of the Red Keep, resisting the urge to rub at her eyes. She hadn’t slept well — she heard a gurgling scream, splatters against stone the wet thud of Ned Stark’s head hitting the steps every night, saw bedsheets soaked through to the mattress, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling his blood drip out and coat white marble whenever she closed her eyes — and the heat of the midday sun was making her feel sluggish.

Tyrion was running late.

Eleyna had jumped at the chance to greet her brother in Joffrey and Cersei’s place — anything to get out of attending Joffrey’s little nameday tourney. She was finding that the less time spent around her nephew, the happier she was.

“Sister! How kind of you to welcome me!”

“Tyrion.” Her brother was followed by a pretty young woman and what looked to be a sellsword — overall, not unusual company for him. “How was the Wall? Everything you dreamed it was?”

“Cold,” Tyrion answered. “I pissed from the edge and nearly froze my cock off.”

“A harrowing experience, I’m sure,” Eleyna drawled. She fell into step next to Tyrion as he entered the Red Keep. “Who are your friends, brother?”

“Ah, yes,” Tyrion nodded, waving behind them at his companions. “This lovely man here is Bronn, a fine swordsman who saved my life in a trial by combat set by Lady Stark —”

“Of course he did.”

“— and this is Shae.”

Eleyna raised an eyebrow when he didn’t continue about Shae — she could make her own inferences about the woman, she knew the kind of ladies Tyrion preferred to keep around him — and lowered her voice. “Does Father know you’ve brought a whore to court?”

“No,” Tyrion said sharply, smiling as if everything was fine when he looked back at Shae and Bronn. “And he won’t be finding out from you. You wouldn’t rat out your dear brother, would you?”

“Hm.” Eleyna tilted her head thoughtfully. “I won’t lie to Father about her if he asks, but I suppose I won’t volunteer the information.”

“Lovely,” Tyrion replied. “Now that that’s all cleared up, I’ll get myself and Shae settled, and then why don’t you accompany me to our esteemed nephew’s nameday tournament?”

“Ah, you know, I’d love to,” Eleyna lied with a smile. “But I find this heat so overwhelming, and I feel rather sick with worry for Jaime.” That part was mostly true, even. “I believe I’ll just retire to my rooms and rest.”

“Oh, dear,” Tyrion said. She could hear the smirk. “Shall I fetch a servant to send the Grand Maester to you? I would hate for Father’s dear heiress to fall ill.”

“I’m sure you would,” Eleyna muttered, then smiled sweetly at Tyrion. “No, brother, that’s quite alright, thank you. Enjoy the tourney!”

She nodded politely to her brother’s friends and split off down a different path. Perhaps she could get some sleep in before her family inevitably interrupted.

****

When she arrived in Tyrion's solar — summoned there well after the sun had already fallen, why did her siblings have such a penchant for disrupting her evenings? — he was pouring himself another cup of wine, looking far more tired than he had when she'd seen him just that morning.

He looked up when she entered, and promptly sent Shae and Bronn from the room. "Eleyna. Good. Come, sit." He poured her a glass of wine. "We are going to put our heads together and think of a way to get Jaime back."

Eleyna looked around the solar in interest. She’d been taught about her father’s tenure as Hand of the King (“The Mad King ordered your father to marry Maryana as punishment for ‘deserting the throne and plotting against him’,” her uncle had told her in a quick, hushed voice — speaking about the way her father’s second marriage had come to be was a risky endeavor at the best of times. “Your father only complied because Aerys threatened to burn Jaime and Cersei alive, and as the Mad King had just burned the Northern lords, Tywin was forced to take his threat seriously.”). The room was rather richly furnished, at the top of a tower that overlooked the entire city. “So all this was Father's once?"

"Yes," Tyrion said impatiently. "You already knew he was Aerys Targaryen's Hand."

"Ah, but I wasn't alive for it. Knowing and seeing are different things." Eleyna took the seat across from Tyrion. "Why are you asking me about getting Jaime back? You're Father's pick for acting Hand."

"But you were friendly with the Stark boy in Winterfell," Tyrion sighed, and drained his cup. "And that is an advantage now, however small. We are losing the war. Robb Stark has proven himself good at warfare." The words were said with a measure of resignated disgust.

"Has he?" Eleyna asked, picking up her cup and feigning disinterest.

"He's won every battle he's fought," Tyrion sighed. "The men we've captured speak of him like he's the Warrior come to earth. They say he rides into battle with that beast of his—”

"Grey Wind," Eleyna supplied. "He's a direwolf, as well you know."

"I don't particularly care what the beast is named," Tyrion snapped pointedly. "I care about getting Jaime back. I would think you'd feel the same! It wasn't too many years ago you were proclaiming him your 'favorite brother' for the entire Rock to hear. Did that only last so long as you needed him not to claim his birthright?"

Eleyna glared at him. "Careful, brother, you're starting to sound like Cersei. Of course I care about freeing Jaime. I'm simply being realistic. Jaime is a valuable hostage. Robb isn't dumb, he knows we have his sisters. He won't kill Jaime whilst he can still be traded for the Stark girls."

Tyrion nodded. "And are you aware that we only have one of the Stark girls?"

Eleyna blinked. "What?"

"Mm." Wine was downed and refilled. "No one has seen Arya Stark since the execution, Cersei says. 'Little animal disappeared,' Cersei says."

"She's a little girl!" Eleyna snapped incredulously. "How did we lose a little girl? I assumed she was being confined to her chambers, not... not missing!"

"I asked Cersei much the same thing and she did not have an answer," Tyrion said conversationally. "There will be no chance of peace, not now that Joffrey's chopped Ned Stark's head off and we've lost one of the Stark children." He shook his head. "Father will be furious."

“An eleven year old highborn girl,” Eleyna sighed. “And the gold cloaks can’t find her? What do we pay them for, then?” She held up a hand to stop him from responding. “Without both Stark girls—”

"I know."

They sat in silence for a long, long moment. The red of the wine was dark and glinted in the flickering firelight when she swirled it. It was very nearly the same color that had stained the Sept stairs when… well. It reminded her of Sansa’s trembling form in her arms that day. She looked up at her brother.

"We can't leave Sansa alone in the Keep as she has been," Eleyna said quietly. "Do you know Joff showed her where he’d staked her father and septa's heads? I… worry for her safety with him." Tyrion hummed thoughtfully. Eleyna pressed on. "I'm going to assign one of my guards to her. From what I've seen, the Hound does what he can for her, but he is Joffrey’s shield. I’d feel better if she had her own.”

“Feel better?” Tyrion repeated. “Are you carrying a guilty conscience, sister? Why? It’s not as though you gave the order for Lord Stark’s death.”

“No,” Eleyna agreed. “But I did nothing to stop it. I want to keep his daughter safe until she can be gotten out, for both Lord Starks.”

"Take Sansa Stark under your protection then," Tyrion said finally, regarding her with an expression that told her he thought her too attached to their enemy. "You are effectively the acting Lady of Casterly Rock in King's Landing right now. Declare Sansa to be your honored guest, or tell everyone that you're teaching her the Southron ways. Either way, a guard won’t be questioned, and the Starkling will be safe until this war with her brother is over.”

"He'll have to send terms for release and surrender soon enough," Eleyna pointed out. “It may be over quicker than we think.”

"Such optimism. Our dear sister and nephew would never agree to them," Tyrion refuted. "To say nothing of Father. He is bound and determined to win this war."

"But at the cost of his favorite child's life?" Eleyna pointed out. "Father rode to war largely because you were Lady Stark's captive. Surely he'd agree to peace for Jaime."

"I suppose we'll have to wait and see." But Tyrion didn't sound at all convinced. "Either way..." He raised his cup in toast. "To the end of peace. May it have mercy and leave us alive.”

taglist: @dipperscavern @justmymindandstuff @thecrownprincessbride

[agentrouka-blog]

Hello Rouka ! what do you think of House Tully and what do you speculate is Grrm's plan for them ?

Hi there!

We've watched them crash and burn much the same way as we've seen it happen to House Stark, which is so closely connected to them. "Family Duty Honor" has been exposed as a bit of a farce, when you consider the hidden and open quarrels, the trauma and hypocrisies that divided this family over the years. Just like "Winter is Coming" rings a little hollow from the lips of Eddard Stark cutting off the head of a Night's Watch ranger warning of the Others.

But just like the Starks, there is enough substance and decency blooming in unlikely places. Edmure is introduced with a deliberately unimpressive touch, but it's to him that GRRM gave one of the most underrated lines in the books:

Catelyn jerked her reins hard to avoid him, glancing about in dismay. Hundreds of smallfolk had been admitted to the castle, and allowed to erect crude shelters against the walls. Their children were everywhere underfoot, and the yard teemed with their cows, sheep, and chickens. "Who are all these folk?" "My people," Edmure answered. "They were afraid." Only my sweet brother would crowd all these useless mouths into a castle that might soon be under siege. Catelyn knew that Edmure had a soft heart; sometimes she thought his head was even softer. She loved him for it, yet still . . . (ACOK, Catelyn V)

GRRM tempts us into siding with Catelyn's cold pragmatism and disapproval. But in this same book we have seen what the war does to the smallfolk through the eyes of Arya. What is the purpose of a lord such as Edmure if not this protection, then? This is the Tully that ultimately gets it. (Incidentally, why I think that the Blackfish who throws them all out to starve, will not survive the series.)

So, I think after seeing them brought low, it is through precisely Edmure - the unlikely survivor - that House Tully will endure and rise again. Much like House Stark symbolically failed under warrior king Robb but will rise again under the leadership of those who have had to learn how to navigate without power, and to abhor the price of warfare. I am also fairly optimistic for him and Roslin making it through everything.

On a plot level, I think this rise will start in TWOW, when the Lannister and Frey fortunes keep unraveling and the possibility arises for Edmure to be freed and regain his ancestral seat. I think he'll have his hands full trying to see his people through winter and will probably form another connecting point between the Southern plotline (Aegon, Tyrells, Lannisters, eventually Dany) and the Northern plotline. Here's an interesting speculative post.

I also think he'll be one of the few Southern survivors standing to be part of the decision-making for a post-war Westeros, i.e. a Great Council, and possibly play a role in Bran's elevation to kingship as his closest Southern relative and a Riverlander no less, with an ancestral claim to Harrenhal, which is likely to be the seat of the future government.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Another Life

Pairing(s): implied/referenced Rhaegar Targaryen x Stark!Reader, Ned Stark x Catelyn Tully, Robert Baratheon x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: canonical character death, illegitimacy, cat actually loves jon in this story, drabble, short, robert and cersei actually like eachother

Words: 1269

Lyanna watches Jon from atop of the courtyard's parapet, her eyes crinkling with pride as she watches Jon best Theon Greyjoy at the dance of swords. Every victory Jon made resulted in him outgrowing the label of bastard. He was so much more than a bastard of Winterfell. Not even Catelyn saw him as such. Many were so shocked when the news came that Ned had brought back his bastard one day. In fact Cat had shown up at Winterfell by his side as he held the infant in his arms, for she was one of three that knew the truth about Jon Snow.

Heartache nibbles at her heart when she recalls fifteen years prior. She remembers her sister (y/n). The fever of her cheeks as she held her newborn son in her arms. But she wasn't faring well. Birth rendered her near lifeless, allowing her to slip slowly away into the Stranger's arms. It was only a matter of time. She refused to leave the Tower of Joy, understood her fate as well as her siblings and sister-in-law did. (y/n) had just been content with the fact that she'd birthed a healthy baby boy.

"Jon." Her watery eyes turn up to Lyanna. "His name is Jon."

After Rhaegar's closest friend. Jon Connington was the one to deliver the note to Winterfell, ensuring it fell into the safe hands of the young Warden of the North himself. He'd been instructed by his revered lady, Princess (y/n) Targaryen.

The name was a slap to the face. A year prior to the birth of her son, (y/n) had supposedly been kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen who was supposed to marry Elia Martell the following day. Both up and vanished without a trace. Lord Rickard Stark was beside himself with grief and agony that they stormed to the capital to demand answers from King Aerys himself. Lord Rickard and his heir Brandon accused the king of hiding the location of Rhaegar and (y/n), said that she was to be returned immediately and the prince punished. But Aerys didn't take kindly to the slander they were slewing against the crown. He had them executed.

Ensuing blood shed consumed the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaegar appeared only on the battlefield with his own men. They fought against not just the king, but Ned and his own allies which included Storm's End. No sign of (y/n) nearby.

After Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar and the regicide of the Mad King by the young lion Jaime Lannister, there was still no clue as to where (y/n) could be.

Robert, though it was Jaime who slew the king, secured the Iron Throne for himself. That meant Lyanna would be queen as she was engaged to Robert. She refused.

When Ned implored her to marry Robert, she gave him the tongue lashing of the century but it did the job in shutting him up. He couldn't force Lyanna to do something she didn't want to. That lesson was learned in childhood. If she desired to stay in the North then she would stay. Slighted at first, it didn't take him long to choose another bride. Cersei Lannister. A beautiful couple. Lyanna was happy that Robert even seemed to be truly smitten with the golden haired girl. They couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

Or so she was told. She couldn't attend their lavish wedding, not when her sister was still out there somewhere.

Day and night she worked in searching for (y/n). Northmen scattered across the vast land took part in looking for her.

They'd nearly given up.

And then Jon Connington delivered a letter in (y/n)'s handwriting.

She and Rhaegar had eloped. Rhaegar couldn't marry Elia Martell, he didn't love her but there was absolutely no way that Aerys would let him marry (y/n) Stark. Even (y/n) had kept her love for him a secret from everyone in her family.

Getting married as soon as they could. They had a short honeymoon for the war started shortly after. Jon Connington was entrusted with (y/n)'s safety, and though he wanted to be with Rhaegar on the battlefield, he held (y/n) in high regard. He agreed without much hesitation.

Soon she discovered she was pregnant. The pregnancy wasn't going well for her. She was constantly sick and weak. She didn't have long.

In her note, (y/n) specifically wanted Lyanna, Ned and his new bride to come. Only them. They were not to tell anyone else. Cat was loathe to leave her own baby Robb but knew how important this was for Ned and his family so of course she agreed to go. Leaving Robb pained her.

Jon was but a week old by the time they arrived to the Tower of Joy. The Sword of the Morning himself stood guard at the tower's entrance.

The babe was healthy. The same couldn't be said of his mother.

She was gaunt, so gray. This wasn't the sister Ned and Lyanna grew up with. Her smile was still the same though, even if it was a little strained. To each of them she spoke to, having the other two wait.

All of them, including Jon Connington and Arthur Dayne were to take this secret to their graves.

(y/n) died two days later.

"I know that look."

Lyanna jolts at Ned's voice, ripped from her melancholic memories. She presses her lips together. Ned grew into a fine lord. A horde of children filled the halls of the castle. Among them was the boy they thought their bastard brother. "Sometimes I can't help but think about her when I see him. He has her big, sweet eyes."

Ned nods. "He does." He rests his forearms on the wooden rail and looks down into the courtyard where Jon swung his sword in the way that Arthur Dayne had shown him that morning. Off to the distance was Jon Connington watching with a close eye. Theon and Robb are trying it out as well.

Jon was thriving. No one caught on to the truth of him. Never even breaching the surface. Many asked who the mother was since Ned agreed to claim fathership over him.

Bittersweet for the siblings watching their nephew grow up without his real mother and father. It was better this way. (y/n) wanted her son to grow up in the north opposed to the death and discrimination he might receive from being raised in the capital. Not just that, but Robert Baratheon was now entirely against the entire Targaryen line. He was already trying to locate the missing Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys with plans to execute them if they're ever found. Children. It was insane that his queen was supporting the king's search for them. His claim to the throne was in danger as long as there was even one Targaryen left alive. And unfortunately Jon was included.

That day his sister died, Ned swore to her that he would protect Jon with his life; even if that meant protecting him against his own friend he thought of as a brother. Lyanna, Ned and Cat had spent sleepless nights speaking about the possibility of Robert finding out about Jon. Their voices hushed, only the quiet flame in the fireplace bore witness to the secrets being discussed.

They would never allow the secret of Jon's parents to become public knowledge. (y/n) entrusted Jon's life to them and they would not disappoint her. They would defend the boy with their life and take his secret to the afterlife.

[daenerystargaryen06]

I was rewatching Game of Thrones...

I was watching Game of Thrones with my friend, and was just reminded that the ending really had no sort of cohesive thought put into it.

Let's start with the North becoming independent.

So, the North going independent really was a dumb decision. It is assumed that winter is still going, I don't think winter would suddenly just end that fast even with the NK having been killed. The North being independent would mean that other Kingdoms would have no obligation to send them resources, food, or men when needed. Meaning if another Kingdom were to suddenly attack the North, they can't call for help from other areas to get more men, and a majority of their men were assumed to have been depleted after the war against the dead. Sansa mentions that she has no resources to feed Dany's army when they arrive (and pretended as though she didn't even know when they were coming, even though Jon had sent her a letter about it); and the glass gardens within Winterfell were likely destroyed from two battles occurring- so where does Sansa plan on obtaining food to feed her people, especially during winter? Not even Bran has an obligation to send her help, and even if he wanted to, he himself likely doesn't have the resources to do so. Highgarden had been sacked previously by the Lannister's, and gold is needed to be spent on rebuilding King's Landing (or apparently focused on building brothels, as Bronn suggests). So how exactly does Sansa plan on ruling her people and getting them through the coming winter, when she has no experience with ruling and the few scenes shown of her looking after Winterfell while Jon is gone, she barely does anything?

Not to mention the fact that considering the North obtained its independence, what's to stop the other kingdoms from declaring for their independence as well? Yara Greyjoy will likely be the first to declare for independence, considering Dany had promised her independence when they allied together. What is also to stop Yara from going after the North? Jon Snow was the one to kill her sworn Queen, and was barely given any sort of consequence for his actions, and the Starks were left in power. As mentioned, the North's armies have been depleted likely from the battle against the dead, and winter will likely be there as well, which means that they can't really afford needed resources and men on fighting against the Ironborn should they decide to go after the North or pillage from it.

Another contender likely to go independent is Dorne. In the show, it was mentioned that Dorne had pledged itself to Dany's side. I doubt they will want to follow the Stark's due to the same reasoning as Yara Greyjoy had- Jon Snow killed their Queen, hardly got any reasonable consequence for it, and the Stark's were left in power. That already leaves two areas independent from the crown. When the other people see Dorne and the Iron Islands go independent, what is to stop them from doing the same? War will likely start because of these independences (Westeros had warred amongst itself before Aegon the Conqueror united the lands). Neither Bran nor Sansa will have any men, supplies, or resources for these wars. And who is to even say that people would want to follow behind Bran being their King? Unlike previous rulers, Bran has no showing for why he should be respected and feared as a ruler to keep others in line, except for the fact that he can see all that goes on. Which isn't really going to stop people from rebelling when he has no actual backing to him; limited men and limited resources. Highgarden, as well, is probably going to be f*cked over from having Bronn as their Lord. Bronn has no experience ruling. His only actions showcased throughout the entire show was fighting, and going to brothels. Already as Master of Coin he is showing he has no concept for ruling and utilizing things wisely, considering he wished to focus the coin on rebuilding brothels of all things, over anything else. Also, what is to stop the Citadel from feeling slighted by Bran and his decisions as King? Samwell Tarly being made maester, when he didn't even finish his training in Oldtown, had stolen valuable items from the Citadel, and has two children with Gilly. The Citadel likely will rebel as well, or refuse to involve themselves with the Crown, considering what Bran had done.

Overall, when you truly put logical sense into the show's ending, it was a shitshow all around. Nothing made sense. And when you apply actual thinking and reasoning to it, you realize just how screwed over Westeros is going to be from this ending. It was said that G.R.R.M plans for Bran to be King, but from the way D&D did it, the ending made no credible sense and had a lot of errors within it as a whole because they can't seem to write a cohesive and good ending without plot holes, character assassination, and stupidity.

I really am crossing my fingers for the books, if they're ever going to be released, because the finality of the show just is... horrible. I would have taken Dany being Queen (even if they had made her 'mad' in the show) over this mess.

[januaryembrs]

THE LION'S SHARE OF WARMTH | Jaime Lannister x reader

Request: ay!! heres to 1k!! :DD can I please have a Jaime Lannister x reader, where the nights too cold to sleep alone even in front of a fire, forcing them to cuddle to keep warm?

Description: A cold night between two enemies leads to an embarrassing wake up call.

word count: 1.1k

trigger warnings: none, swearing? Mention of the war going on ?

main masterlist

For a girl born into the North, there was nothing you hated more than the cold. Your mother said you had just never grown accustomed to the climate, always insisting on the thickest pelts to cover your bed despite the fact your family had lived through the thickest Winters spanning back generations. 

Which is why you swore all twenty of your fingers and toes were damn near ready to fall off when you were forced to sleep outside on the road to King’s Landing. Call it being spoiled by coming from a respectable lord’s family, but had you not had a good reason to be here, you would be long gone and in front of a roaring fire by now on a night like this. 

That respectable lord just so happened to be Wyman Manderly. Your house had fallen to near mania the moment the war of the five kings began, and you had fled to Robb and Catelyn Stark with your twin brothers Wylis and Wendel. The Starks and the Manderlys had always been closely allied, and as all Northern houses you had grown closely knit with the great Wolf house. 

Which was why when Jaime Lannister appeared in a cage on the Stark encampment, bloodied and dirtier than you’d ever seen the once proud lion, you knew Catelyn Stark was fighting with every tooth and nail to get Sansa and Arya back from the capital.

And who better to send to bargain for the two girls than Brienne of Tarth, the strongest swords woman in Westeros, and Y/N Manderly, daughter of the richest Northern family. Since you already had money of your own and your family was incredibly loyal to the Starks, Catelyn and Robb agreed you were unlikely to be swayed by anything Cersei could offer you and could discuss an offer with the Lannisters like the astute and academic woman you were.

Which is how you got here, on a narrow and freezing road to the capital with Brienne and Jaime Lannister.

“My legs tire, we need to rest soon,” Jaime whinged for the umpteenth time that day as you and Brienne carted him in chains through the rough terrain. Well Brienne held the irons, seeing as she could overpower the man if needs be, while you had little more than a dagger to fend him off. 

You shot a look at the tall woman, the two of you mirroring each other with a glare of annoyance at his theatrics. You ignored him, continuing your steady pace onwards. The Lannister man seemed to be unused to people, especially women, not pouring over him with affection and lavishing him with whatever he requested since he began digging his heels into the earth like a lame mule.

“I said we need rest. Do you really think my sister will take kindly to me being returned to her as a cripple?” Jaime complained, yanking against the bonds to get your attention. You wished to disregard him some more until he said: “If I am to be exchanged for the girls and I come home bruised and deformed, what do you think she’ll do to Sansa and Arya?” 

You and Brienne halted. You hadn’t quite thought about treating him kindly since it was his forsaken family that had started this war in the first place. 

You looked to Brienne for assurance, the Tarth woman giving you a small nod in response. The two of you spun to advance on the man who wore an annoyingly winning smile at the fact he had gotten you both to listen. 

“We are stopping until the moment the day breaks, do you hear?” You growled at him, only making his cracked lips draw wider. “And wipe that smirk of your face, there will be no fire tonight,”

Gods be known you were so stupid to have said that. In punishing him you had punished yourself. Brienne didn’t seem to mind the frosty night air as she bundled up under her furs, sleeping soundly as if it were another night in a bed. 

“A Northern woman who feels the cold, that’s new,” Jaime snickered from his place behind you. Your body must have been shaking more than you’d hoped. You felt the night air kiss every inch of your skin as the wind whipped even the slightest bit and it sent a vicious shiver through your body.

“Shut up or I’ll maim you, Lannister,” You both knew it was an empty threat, one you’d barely made through without your teeth chattering loudly. It only served to make him chuckle, and you heard him shuffle closer to you. 

Drawing your blade, you were quick to raise the sharp tip to prod against the soft of his stomach. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You seethed.

“Relax. You’re clearly cold, and Cersei would have both your heads if I returned to King’s Landing with the shivering sickness,” Jaime said, attempting to slip an arm around your waist that you swiftly batted away with your arm.

“I’d rather risk your bitch of a sister than be anywhere near you,” You spat, raising the dagger up to his chin, “If you dare touch me in my sleep I’ll send you back to her in pieces, do you understand?” 

He raised his hands in defence, rolling back away from you and muttering something foul under his breath. You could tell his confidence was knocked that the Jaime Lannister couldn’t have his way with every woman he came across. Any other woman in Westeros would give an arm and leg to cuddle with him for warmth, any woman but you. 

You closed your eyes, the flame of anger enough to ward off the chill for just long enough that you were able to get to sleep on wrath alone. 

Your face blazed with similar heat when you awoke to the feeling of strong laughter humming through a set of ribs. You realised very quickly that your face was not pressed into the dirt like it was when you fell asleep last night but instead against someone's clothed spine. 

“I thought you said I’d be in pieces by now?” Came a raspy voice, and you shoved yourself upright aghast. Not only were you spooning the damn king’s guard whose very soul you loathed, but in no way could you blame him for it happening seeing as it was him facing away from you.

Your cold body had sought him out for warmth in your sleep.

“Embarrass-”

“That’s ENOUGH, Lannister,”

[asoiafcanonjonsnow]

JON SNOW || MAB DAROGAN

According to Welsh mythology, Mab Darogan or the "Son of Destiny" is a messianic figure that would force the Anglo-Saxons and the Vikings out of Britain and reclaim it for the Celtic Britons.

In ASOIAF, Jon Snow is assassinated while he's about to rail against the Boltons who have usurped his family's castle and currently rule the North. It's possible that after his eventual resurrection, he will still want to fight against the Boltons and drive them out of his ancestral house. After he succeeds, the people of the North who have suffered under Bolton's rule will see him not only as their rightful ruler since he's the heir to their late King Robb Stark but also as a savior (aka a messianic figure).

Through the centuries various historical and mythological figures have been linked to Mab Darogan.

Jon Snow shares some parallels with two of those: the mythical King Arthur and the historical Henry VII of England.

Both Arthur and Jon are illegitimate kids of royalty. King Uther Pendragon fell in love with the married Igraine and either forced her to be with him or she also fell in love with him depending on the version of the story. Similarly, Prince and Heir to the throne Rhaegar Targaryen fell in love with Lyanna Stark, who was engaged to another man, and according to rumors in Westeros, he kidnapped her and raped her. However, it's more likely by various hints we get through the books that the affair between Rhaegar and Lyanna was consensual. Both affairs lead to wars and Uther and Rhaegar dying without meeting their sons.

It is worth noticing that in some tales, Uther and Igraine are married after her first husband's death so Arthur isn't illegitimate. In ASOIAF universe, Rhaegar could have possibly married Lyanna as Targaryen aren't against polygamy and thus making Jon his legitimate heir. Not that it actually matters, because just like Arthur is the true heir to his father even in the versions he's a bastard, similarly Jon Snow is the narrative heir of Rhaegar who can save the world regardless of his bastard status or lack of it.

Let's move to the similarities between Henry VII and Jon Snow. Martin has already shared that the War of Roses was a major inspiration for the book series. At the end of the War of Roses, it's neither House Lancaster (inspiration for House Lannister) nor House York (inspiration for House Stark) which emerges victorious but instead the new King is Henry Tudor who starts his own dynasty. The said King wasn't the most likely candidate to the throne as he wasn't closed related to any of the previous Kings, like Jon isn't related to either Tommen/Joffrey/Robert/Stannis/Renly. Instead he drew his claim through kinship to older generation Kings with whom he didn't share the same surname. Jon is also related with all Targaryen Kings despite not sharing their surname.

Henry's father died in battle before he was born, like Rhaegar died on Trident. Both Henry and Jon were raised by their uncles who shaped lot of their views. Henry spent a long time in exile hiding from his opponents and similarly Eddard Stark raised Jon Snow to the far north to keep him away from King Robert's wrath- in case he found out about Jon's existence. Besides, even after leaving Winterfell, Jon went to the Wall which counts as a sort of exile away from the rest of the Kingdom. Henry returned to England from exile and fought and won the english crown against King Richard III. Jon is dying as he tries to raise an army to fight Ramsay Bolton in order to reclaim Winterfell. When he's eventually resurrected, he's gonna continue his fight against Boltons and probably like Henry Tudor he will come out victorious. Could he also battle the possible King candidates of the South? That's something up to speculation.

Coat of Arms of King Henry VII of England.

Another interesting thing about Henry VII is that his coat of arms included a white dog and a red dragon, which is very similar to a possible Jon Snow's coat of arms (a red dragon for House Targaryen and a white direwolf for House Stark).

The famous badge of House Tudor (Henry VII's House) consists of the combination of the white rose (House York) and the red rose (House Lancaster). Could Jon Snow also combine both Targaryen and Stark colors on his own badge? Or maybe he'll adapt the blue rose which is significant to his parents'story?

Above is portrayed the rose of House Tudor while below there are those of House Lancaster and House York.

[redsbrainrot]

Fairytail in a GOT au - part 2

There’s the original post :) if you haven’t read that I suggest you do so you can get a gist of this one.

Gruvia

Arranged marriage

I think BonnieQ pretty much nailed what their relationship would be like already in her GOT au fic but I’m gonna continue anyways

Juvia and Gray would both be very stoic with each other for the first week, Juvia opens up way before he does though

Girl’s horny 24/7

Occasionally they’d make a trip to the Riverlands cause she gets a little homesick, but she loves the North just as much

Juvia shocked that she has a man that actually treats her with respect and doesn’t cross boundaries

Gray found her a bit odd at first but once he got to know her that boy was in looooove

When there’s a war they don’t leave each other behind they go together (despite how much Gray protests she stays home)

Lyon constantly making moves on a married woman, Gray would threaten to send him to the Wall

Like Bran in episode 1 I imagine Juvia finding a load of direwolf puppies and begging for Gray to let her keep them

He’s like “yeah whatever” but secretly he was also about to beg her to take them home

They’re pretty quick to have children (horny bastards)

Nalu

Natsu grew up in King’s Landing and one day the “Lannisters” (Lucy’s family) visited and Natsu pissed her the fuck off but they were actually pretty close by the end of it

Lucy was promised to someone else

Natsu is a knight

See where I’m going here

Forbidden looooove

Yeah they secretly shagging

They’d be like frenemies to lovers

They’d pull a Lyanna and Rhaegar and secretly elope

This is game of thrones people wouldn’t like that once they found out

Do I hear a war? Yeah there was totally a war because of it

Random bullshit

Natsu would be a knight to the Targaryens I think (so Mira’s family n that)

Targaryens would beg the Stark’s (Gray and co) to fight in the war against the Lannisters (angry Lucy family) and Gray would get in a little spat with Natsu about how he basically started a war for pussy

I feel like Lucy’s mother would’ve been a Tyrell

Natsu would have Targaryen blood fr but I feel like he’d be a bastard

Makarov runs a brothel in King’s landing lmao

Juvia would have Pyke blood too yk sea and that

Jellal and Erza are literally just Brienne and Jaime

Erza and Natsu still besties and she’d be in the King’s guard as well

Natsu would definitely have a dragon

Juvia is full on Catalyn when it comes to her kids (in a good way) she’ll do anything for them

[dragonagecompanions]

For author of ASOIAF Inquisitor: Inner Circle reaction to the events at Hardhome?

Cassanda: And so it boils down to this. From the very beginning the Seeker has wondered when the Wall and whatever lives beyond it will have its say and at last it has come. There are so many plots that a less avid reader might struggle to keep them apart, but Cassandra's focused determination -and the tiny war table she keeps in her quarters, outlining the series- means that when the Night King finally reveals himself she can see the whole field converging.

And it is wonderful.

Varric: Look, everyone thinks they can write a book, but most people never will. His greatest work, which garnered enough notoriety that his career was jump started, was more fact than fiction and yet still was a struggle for the first few drafts. He writes novellas and periodicals because, quite frankly, keeping more than one or two story lines going is annoying and splinters focus.

Which means that with everything happening in the Seven Kingdoms somehow the fall of Hardhome should lack the impact that such an important watershed should have-- and yet somehow dancing from sunny Mereen to the icy tundra of Beyond the Wall as the end of the world draws suddenly near loses nothing for the complexity of its surroundings.

He needs to up his game.

Solas: And so the enemies begin to show their faces. From the first moment of this series the rift mage has seen very few of the plot twists coming, and as he settles back in the solitude of his rotunda this is no different. He had suspected that some of what lay beyond the wall was political fear mongering, that the watch were making ready for their own coup. But to see the Night King being his march with the icy truth that death is truly only fodder for more is....mesmerizing. All the schemes of the Seven Kingdoms fall short of this new terror, and yet so few fail to see it growing at their very borders.

He feels a kinship, there.

Blackwall: Jon Snow would have made a proper Warden. It's easy to see the similarities between wights and darkspawn, and the terrible pressure of a man set to meat unearthly foes. The Seven Kingdoms have a blight of their own on the way, make no mistake, and for a brief moment Skyhold's would be warden is ready to take arms with the King of the North whose name is Stark.

Belatedly he will chastise himself for such foolishness, but it will be on his mind for weeks afterwards, how their inquisitor intends to resolve this-- and what the fate of it all will be.

Vivienne: It stinks of Ferelden propaganda at first, and if there had not been so much else written Madame de Fer might have accused their fearless leader of pandering to King Alistair. But from the inquisitors first words in the series something has lurked behind the walls-- and while others may have been drawn in by the Lannisters and their tricks no player of the great game loses sight of an enemy for long and lives to tell of it. The Stark boy's gambit was a good one, but in showing his hand too early he has caught the attention of something far greater-- and with only an alliance with the Wildlings it seems the Starks are set to loose another scion.

It bears watching-- and is worth the effort to make sure their inquisitor has adequate writing time.

Sera: Friggin' dead people not staying dead, little people turning to monsters and all the big people too focused on their pointy chair. Arrows is what it needs, and dragons. The Red Jenny expels many a cookie and arrow on her targets, too antsy to sit and wait to read more-- and bothering their Inquisitor will only delay the process.

Friggin' words.

Iron Bull: Necromancy, why does it always come back to that? 5000 wildings against an army that just uses your fallen against you? And no promise of alliance or even peace with anyone else? Magic at your back and politics at the front? It sounds like the worst of Seheron, and that always makes his horns itch. At least the 'Vints didn't regenerate, though their magic certainly didn't help.

For all his training and his scheming the Ben Hassrath agent never saw the Night King coming so soon, and as Jon Snow flees again the Charger's leader is suddenly starting to wonder if the Seven Kingdoms is expected to survive at all.

And if not, does that bode well, for Thedas?

Dorian: Really, this is a bit beyond his ability to excuse. For the Night King to be able to permanently rouse so many, particularly in a state of constant obediant reanimation, would require massive amounts of power. And even then his thralls would be shambling disorganized things. It seems that this great and terrible ruler of the north has more in common with a plague bearer than any true Necromancer, and that is a benefit. Plagues can be burned out, with enough fire and steel.

No the real threat still lives in Kings Landing-- and Dorian can only hope the younger son of House Lannister can prove his wit and bring the Mother of Dragons home to roost--before his nest is burned alive.

Cullen: Jon Snow was right to retreat, ahead of a more fearsome army and in a bad position. Skyhold's commander knows a losing battle when he sees it, and moving back south of the wall to regroup is a sound military tactic. Without realizing it Cullen has set and reset his own maps to match the fictional war playing out in his mind--both a relief from their own recent retreat, and to watch what is growing in the south.

Josephine: It is horrible, of course, what the Night King is doing, but also so exciting to see the stories that have so far been on the periphery come to the forefront. But while attack is terrible the ambassador is truly relieved that Loboda falls in the attack. Such a crass and violent leader is not a good ally for peace, and his death at the hands of the enemy will certainly motivate the Wildings without the risks that come with assassination.

They are in a bad spot, of course, but she has faith it will be seen through. And quickly-- the suspense is ruining her schedules.

Leliana: She doesn't finish it. Can't, without seeing the fallen of the blight and imagining her warden friends in that same terrible spot. Josie tells her enough to know what is to come, but the spymaster must read enough terrible things in her day-- this need not be one.

-Mod Fereldone

[teecupangel]

idk but omg ive been brainrotting over an asoiaf/game of thrones and ac crossover. like assassins striking fear in the hearts of the targaryen dynasty ever since maegor the cruel was found dead alone on the throne. i feel like things wouldve been better if someone just thought to unalive mad king aerys. but would that mean so many terrible lords suddenly getting assassinated and their decendants peer pressured to be decent rulers unless they meet the same fate dfkgjhgfj

Welp, it seems the tags are not working for me because I just spent 15ish minutes trying to find these. XD

Anyway…

Here’s a “Desmond sorta adopts Dany and Vis” idea.

Here’s a “Desmond turns into a White Dragon during HOTD” idea and the continuation.

So, for this one, we’re going for the Brotherhood exists in the ‘verse of asoiaf, right? In that scenario, we can make the Brotherhood become a more ‘honorable’ off-shoot of Faceless Men. We’ll probably need to change the backgrounds of the characters but this would be set as the main characters of AC doing what they do best (and I kinda like the idea that Ezio is the son of a minor house that got fucked over by the Lannisters during the war of the five kings).

I kinda like the idea of Altaïr being the one to kill King Aerys and becoming the mentor of Ezio, Desmond and Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Maybe their backstory would be that the Mad King managed to purge most of the Assassins and Altaïr was one of the few survivors so killing him had been both to protect Westeros and to avenge the death of his brothers while he was still young.

So this would be more in the lines of a man that’s suddenly thrust into becoming a mentor of men not that much older than him.

As I have written before, Ezio would be the son of a fallen minor house that got trampled on by the Lannister during the start of the War of the Five Kings.

I think Ratonhnhaké:ton can be part of the Green Men. 

While Desmond is a bastard of unknown origins who is actually also a survivor of the purge and found Altaïr after he had killed the Mad King. They were searching for other survivors of their Brotherhood when they saved Ezio and met Ratonhnhaké:ton who told them that he had dreamed of them. 

So, in this situation, their Brotherhood continued the ‘fight’ during the War of the Five Kings but there’s only four of them so they can’t assassinate fast enough to stop all the tragedy that happens.

But… 

The shadows they cast are slowly being heard by those who live.

Those being oppressed see them as hope.

And those who are in power… believe they will see their end soon.

But the longer they lived, the more lives they take, leaving behind a bloody feather as their ‘message’...

The more fear gripped those who remain.

.

Unorganized Notes:

I focused on Westeros because the other asoiaf asks I got were Targayen focused XD

Ezio’s habit of being friendly with nobles/people in power returns and this time he thinks allying with the Starks is a good idea. Thankfully for him, Robb Stark is more honorable than Lorenzo de' Medici. Unfortunately for him, Robb Stark is more honorable than the other lords in Westeros. 

If you want Arya to be an Assassin, I would suggest Ratonhnhaké:ton being the one to find her. Your choice of when he finds her though.

Altaïr does not approve of Ezio becoming close with the Starks, only because the Brotherhood must remain in the shadows. This causes Ezio and Altaïr to butt heads that Desmond has to referee.

Desmond may or may not be a bastard of a high ranking noble. Who knows? 

If you want Haytham to stand against them, may I suggest… Haytham being the lord of House Birch. The rumors are he’s adopted and not a true Birch but no one would say that to his face. Shay is his knight. 

The other Assassins like Arno, Evie and Jacob? Uuummm… orphan children that Desmond sorta kinda adopted while Ratonhnhaké:ton was picking up a half-feral child and Altaïr was busy arguing with Ezio?

They all end up being Altaïr's responsibility XD

[onthesandsofdreams]

A Stark She Remains [11/?]

Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire Characters: Sansa Stark, Ned Stark, Brandon Stark, Rickard Stark, Joffrey Baratheon Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood mention Prompt: #9 from @fictober-event

On AO3

That night, Sansa dreams again. This time, it is her father, grandfather and uncle who are in her dream sitting near Winterfell's heart tree.

She feels her throat close.

"Am I wrong?" She answers. "I know I have delighted and felt relief in the deaths of those of House Lannister, but I worry. For me, am I a murderer? Am I lost?"

"No, child." It is her grandfather who speaks. "House Lannister declared war on House Stark the moment they ordered your father's arrest."

"It declared war the moment that weasel Little Finger moved against your father in favor of the Queen and Joffrey," this time is her uncle who speaks. "They started playing a dirty game the moment the Queen looked away and Joffrey had you beaten."

"My child, you are not a murderer." Her father's face is full of sorrow. "The fact that you worry over it is more than what many murderers do. Do you think Joffrey sleeps ill at ease after he ordered my death? After he had you beaten and bloodied? Nay, he does not."

"He is no better than Aerys," her grandfather speaks again, his voice is hard as ice. Strong as the wall, as strong as the foundations of Winterfell. "How can he not be, when he is the result of a brother and sister union?"

This time her breath caughts, what Stannis speaks is true?

Her uncle looks solemn, but angry. So angry. "That bastard is born of incest niece. A false king. An offense to the Gods, Old and New. So, have no fear, the path you thread is just. So, avenge my brother without fear or worries."

"If the circumstances were another," her father's voice is soft."I would tell you to not kill. But I want you to live, so in this case I tell you: Don't listen to me, listen to them about the path you are walking. But know this, I love you and want you to live my darling child. So live."

~~~~

Sansa wakes with a start.

She looks towards the window and sees the clear sight of the sun coming up, and she knows. Joffrey 'Baratheon' dies today.

She takes a deep, calming breath. Then stands and pulls the book from under the bed, she lays in on it and then goes for quill and ink. Opens its carefully, dips her quill in ink, takes another deep breath and writes, Joffrey Baratheon, the Iron Throne. She watches as the ink sinks into the blank page and disappears.

She nods to herself, closes the book and hides it again.

~~~~~

Later on, when Joffery is holding court in the Throne room, one of the supplicant angers him. He yells and moves his hand, the Iron Throne cuts his veins.

He screams and leaps upwards. People yell for the maester.

He steps in his cloak that his mother insisted he wore today. Trips backwards and in the blink of an eye, impales his throat in one of the swords that make the Throne.

The rushing and screaming gets louder.

~~~~

She watches as Joffrey dies without glory. She knows she chose well, people will speak of his unworthiness, of how the Iron Throne rejected him.

She watches as the Queen screams and rushes forward, watches as people scream for Grand Maester. But she knows that Joffrey is dead and there is no saving him.

She pretends to faint.

[rise-my-angel]

The scene where Tyrion recognizes Catelyn at the Inn is so good. First the comedy in the minstrel asking if they would like a song and Ser Rodrick so casually going "I'd rather throw myself down a well." Only to hit twofold when Tyrion then tells him "Nothing would more ruin my day." The slow realization of Catelyn who has been led to believe Tyrions guilt and thus feels like she's being cornered.

Only stand and slowly and calmly take control, by emploring herself to men from Houses allied or are friendly with hers to create respect. And the growing sense of tension around Tyrion who has no understanding of what is going on, contrasted to bold and smart of a move Catelyn is taking to flip the room to her side. And then the final nail of accusing Tyrion of trying to murder her son and commands them to arrest him to be brought to justice as the men all loyally stand and circle around him with swords.

We as the audience have the foresight that ultimately Tyrion is innocent and Catelyn is making a big mistake. But in context, Catelyn has ever reason to beleive his guilt and thus is justified to bring him to justice.

I know a lot of Catelyn haters cite this as the incident that started the war, when no absolutely not, the point was there was going to always be war the second Robert died because Stannis fled to Dragonstone after Jon Arryn's death because he knew the truth about Joffery and thus knew he was Roberts rightful heir. And there was always going to be at least 3 sides of war because nothing the Starks did changed the fact that Renly was going to declare for King against Stannis anyways. Catelyn didn't start the war.

She was entierly justified given that she and Ned were both drastically manipulated by Petyr Baelish to think Tyrion tried to have her son murdered. It's one of her best moments actually, and it showcases how a woman with no strength used her kindness and intelligence to overpower an otherwise untouchable Lannister foe without ever sacrificing her morals to do so.

That and the deception she used by loudly proclaiming to bring him to Winterfell when Tyrion calls her out on it, "I did. Often. And loudly."

I always hated people citing this as her worst moment or what started the war, when in reality it is a perfect showcase of why she is such a great, clever character and even though we know Tyrion is innocent, we still feel the triumph of the moment and how badass she was without ever using more then her genuine words.

Anyways people who hate Catelyn need an mri because there is something not right in your brain.

[asoiaf-essays-collector]

Baratheons to blame

You know what? When talking about the shit happened to Westeros people usually blame Ned Stark for his insane moral code and political incompetence, Lannisters for being, well, Lannisters, Robb Stark for his naivety, sometimes Sansa Stark for trusting Cersei.

And I've yet to see even one essay dedicated to Baratheons. One of them was butchering the whole country for a decade, others chose to be literal children effectively giving Westeros to Lannisters.

So let's talk about this.

Robert Baratheon.

Well, say it wasn't his mistake to become a king - Baratheons are related to Targaryens, he had people supporting him and loving him, he was known amongst little folks. Even without political intelligence he was a legit option and perhaps the only one that wouldn't raise any question or create an opposition immediately.

Let's say even marrying Cersei wasn't a political mistake at that time - new dynasty needed gold and supplies, winter was coming soon, and Robert needed all the Great Houses support he could get.

But after that? It's inexcusable.

Many words were written I won't repeat them. My biggest issues are - 6 millions debt, not listening to advisers or at least Jon Arryn and later Ned and giving Storm's End to Renly. How the hell the latter happened and what were the reasons - I still don't understand the mechanism.

But Robert didn't care, didn't listen, he created the state of Westeros that it is now, it's a simple constant and starting point of the series, let's move on.

Renly and Stannis Baratheon.

It was the simple equation. The easiest one.

Tywin Lannister had his 12 000 people in Harrenhal plus an abstract army that was still being gathering in Lannisport - so let's say there were 16 000 people total. 20 000 max.

King's Landing was unprotected af.

Robb was also against Lannisters with his 25 000 people or something around this (and he was also theoretically okay with Stannis as a king).

Stannis had his ships and war strategy skills (and dark magic, but no one knew yet).

Renly had more than 90 000 people.

The simplest solution should be to combine Baratheons, annihilate Lannisters and King's Landing and then discuss the terms of sovereignity or allegiances between themselves. They had no bad blood between them and Robb, just childish grudges amongst Renly and Stannis.

Maybe - even if they didn't agree they could just attack Lannisters from different frontlines and then fight amongst themselves - stupid but still reasonable.

You know - "let's deal with the biggest issue first" style.

But no.

Renly decided to become a king literally out of nowhere - he said so himself. Stannis instead of being smart about it held onto stupid grudges against literally everyone. Oh, his brother didn't love him enough, oh, Ned Stark saved his life just because Robert told him so, oh, Renly took his Storm's End, even the Seven did him wrong! Just put on some big boy pants, man!

I know that that's the whole point of their conflict - it's in Catelyn's chapters, but it just frustrates me af.

Robert was just a bad ruler - that happens, I'm sure there were lots of unfit rulers in Westerosi history.

Ned made a mistake of trusting people he shouldn't had - but he was also very new to all of this shit. Man tried to do something but then failed - that happens sometimes.

Robb basically also made a mistake of underestimating enemy's vile and Frey's disloyalty. Stupid, yes, but he also tried to do something while being inexperienced teenage boy.

Lannisters? Vile, atrocious and horrible people - politically smart and looking out for their family's best interests. Understandable.

Blaming a child - just ridiculous.

But these two? Both adults, having either military or state experience? Just doing fucking nothing because of stubbornness and absolutely childish grudges against each other? While knowing that this war was destroying the whole country? That people are being killed? That Lannisters are getting stronger, not weaker?

That's not even stupid, that's just inadequate.

Amongst all the horrors and injustice happening in Westeros Robert, Stannis and Renly are simply the worst

(well, after the mountain and boltons, but you get the point. stop blaming ned)