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jackoshadows · 2 years

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In the books:

Wex stole after the two, a woman and a boy. He must have stayed downwind, so the wolf would not catch his scent."

"He knows where they went," Lord Wyman said.

Davos understood. "You want the boy."

"Roose Bolton has Lord Eddard's daughter. To thwart him White Harbor must have Ned's son … and the direwolf. The wolf will prove the boy is who we say he is, should the Dreadfort attempt to deny him. That is my price, Lord Davos. Smuggle me back my liege lord, and I will take Stannis Baratheon as my king." - Davos, ADwD

GRRM interview:

He was asked where is Rickon and what will happen to him (a reader who forgot a part of ADWD it seems). GRRM said Rickon will appear in TWOW.

GRRM about Osha, SSM, Deeper than Swords: 26 Mar 2014 (its around the 56 min mark)

Q: Can you think of instances in seeing these portrayals, the actor’s take that gave you a new perspective?

GRRM: When Osha comes back in the books, it’s possible, I haven’t actually gotten to it yet that she will be influenced by what I’ve seen, that I will write a more interesting character.

Unicorns in TWoW, SSM: Neil DeGrasse Tyson's Startalk: 17 May 2019

Unicorns will appear in TWOW and GRRM will have a "unique" take on them

GRRM SSM, 8 Sept 2014

Q: Let us quote J. K. Rowling, queen of fantasy: “Fantasy has its own laws. Some things are prohibited. No sex near unicorns. ”

A: There are unicorns in my next book, and probably sex not far from unicorns. There's a lot of sex in "The Iron Throne" despite the dragons.

GRRM notes while writing season 4 of GOT, Vanity fair article:

Speaking of which: Martin leaves a little note for the producers when writing about Ramsay’s flesh-eating hounds, whom we see hunting down a girl for sport.

[N.B. A note for future reference. A season or two down the line Ramsay’s pack of wolfhounds are going to be sent against the Stark direwolves, so we should build up the dogs as much as possible in this and subsequent episodes]

This is the alignment of houses in the North:

Houses supporting the Boltons: Frey, Dustin and Ryswell. Manderly (Fake), Umber, Locke, Hornwood, Stout, Cerwyns, Tallharts, Slates - all most probably not loyal to the Boltons

Northern houses with Stannis Baratheon, fighting to free Arya Stark: Mountain clans - Flints, Norreys, Wulls and Liddles, Glover, Mormont, Umber, Karstark (Fake)

Note: Manderly has promised that he will be leige lord to Stannis if Davos gets him Rickon. Many of Roose’s bannermen (Umber is seen talking to Manderly, Stout consults with Umber etc.) maybe aware of what Manderly is planning and know about Rickon Stark.

House Glover is also interesting. Sybelle Glover declares for Stannis after he defeats the Iron Born at Deepwood Motte. Robett Glover is plotting with Manderly at White Harbor with respect to Rickon. Arya Stark helps free Robett Glover and other Northmen at Harrenhal. Galbart Glover is in the Neck with Robb’s decree legitimizing Jon Snow and naming him KITN.

This is the current weather in the North in ADwD:

“Lord Stannis is lost in the storm,” said Lady Dustin. “He’s leagues away, dead or dying. Let winter do its worst. A few more days and the snows will bury him and his army both.” - A ghost in Winterfell, ADwD

---

The first flakes came drifting down as the sun was setting in the west. By nightfall snow was coming down so heavily that the moon rose behind a white curtain, unseen. - The Turncloak, ADwD

---

The yard was a white wilderness, full of half-heard sounds that echoed strangely amidst the storm.The icy trenches rose around them, knee high, then waist high, then higher than their heads.They were in the heart of Winterfell with the castle all around them, but no sign of it could be seen.They might have easily been lost amidst the Land of Always Winter,a thousand leagues beyond the Wall. - Theon, ADwD

---

Lord Bolton unrolled the parchment. “His host lies not three days’ ride from here, snowbound and starving, and I for one am tired of waiting on his pleasure.” - Theon, ADwD

---

“The gods have turned against us,” old Lord Locke was heard to say in the Great Hall. “This is their wroth. A wind as cold as hell itself and snows that never end. We are cursed.” - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADwD

---

By the ninth day of the storm, every camp saw the captains and commanders entering the king's tent wet and weary...and report their losses for the day.

The fifteenth day of the march came and went, and they had crossed less than half the distance.

On the twenty-sixth day...the last of the vegetables was consumed...On the thirty-second day, the last of the grain and fodder. - The Sacrifice, ADwD

---

Justin Massey looked up from his horsemeat. “The cold count last night reached eighty.” He pulled a piece of gristle from his teeth and flicked it to the nearest dog. “If we march, we will die by the hundreds.”

“We had eight hundred horses when we marched from Deepwood Motte. Last night the count was sixty-four.” That did not shock her. Almost all of their big destriers had failed, including Massey's own. Most of their palfreys were gone as well. Even the garrons of the northmen were faltering for want of fodder - The Sacrifice, ADwD

---

“Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks.” - The King’s Prize, ADwD

---

We had expected to find the king at Winterfell. This same blizzard has engulfed the castle, alas. Beneath its walls we found Mors Umber with a troop of raw green boys, waiting for the king’s coming.” - The Sacrifice, ADwD

---

The snow was following heavily outside."Wind's from the south," Yarwick observed. It's blowing the snow right up against the Wall.See?

He was right.The switchback stair was buried almost to the first landing, Jon saw, and the wooden doors of the ice cells and storerooms had vanished behind a wall of white - Jon, ADwD

This is the state of things in the North before actual Winter hits, which happens at the end of ADwD. Winter is not coming anymore, it is here in the books. This is Arya warging Nymeria in the Riverlands:

Her nights were lit by distant stars and the shimmer of moonlight on snow, but every dawn she woke to darkness.

------

"What three new things do you know, that you did not know before?"

"I know that some men are saying that Tormo Fregar will surely be the new sealord," she answered. "Some drunken men."

"Better. And what else do you know?"

It is snowing in the riverlands, in Westeros, she almost said. - The Blind Girl, ADwD

---

The castle dominated the broad fertile valley that maps and men alike called Blackwood Vale. A vale it was, beyond a doubt, but no wood had grown here for several thousand years, be it black or brown or green. Once, yes, but axes had long since cleared the trees away. Homes and mills and holdfasts had risen where once the oaks stood tall. The ground was bare and muddy, and dotted here and there with drifts of melting snow. - Jaime, ADwD

And finally KL:

"On the window seat a raven loitered, pale, huge, its feathers ruffled. It was the largest raven that Kevan Lannister had ever seen. Larger than any hunting hawk at Casterly Rock, larger than the largest owl. Blowing snow danced around it, and the moon painted it silver.

Not silver. White. The bird is white.

The white ravens of the Citadel did not carry messages, as their dark cousins did. When they went forth from Oldtown, it was for one purpose only: to herald a change of seasons.

"Winter," said Ser Kevan. The word made a white mist in the air. - epilogue, ADwD

Just a reminder that Rickon Stark and his direwolf are important and will be important in TWoW. One of the richest and most powerful houses in the North is backing Rickon Stark as Lord of Winterfell. Without Bran there, Rickon is the rightful heir to the North. Other Northerners in play include the Mountain clans marching for Arya Stark and the folks who know of and have Robb’s decree. And various Northern houses and clans are doing their own plotting to put a Stark in Winterfell.

Also a reminder that Stannis is stranded in a snow storm 3 days from Winterfell.

Marching from the Vale all the way to Winterfell in these harsh snowstorms, with a Vale army - who have no experience with the harsh conditions of the North - is near impossible.

Davos, Rickon, Shaggydog and Osha are certainly going to get to WF faster than Sansa and an army. Rickon has an actual Direwolf - the symbol of house Stark. House Stark follows male-preference primogeniture law of inheritance.

The Vale have their own problems brewing with winter here. Aegon has landed in the Stormlands, there is trouble in the Riverlands and KL is in chaos. Is the army going to abandon the Vale and go North in the harshest Winterstorms, experiencing huge loss of lives just to get Sansa to Winterfell?

The show is not the books. Nonsensical show plots don’t belong in the books. I will let just leave GRRM’s own words here:

In a convention panel this year, George said on the record that he had no idea what they were doing with Sansa or where they’re taking her storyline, which now makes sense perhaps.

#Rickon Stark #ADwD #TWoW speculation #GRRM #TWoW #The Northern Plot #The Vale #Arya Stark #Sansa Stark #Jon Snow #House Stark #Vale army

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karahalloway · 3 years

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20 Questions

Thanks so much for the tag @bebepac! I love stuff like this! 🤩

Nickname: Kati (Kara is a pen name). Alternatively, I go by ‘Bunny’ (husband) and ‘Mommy’ (my son).

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius and proud! 😊

Height: 170cm, which is approx. 5′ 6′’ (I used to be 168cm but I ended up grown 2cm while I was pregnant... weird, huh)

Last Movie I saw: Erm... I think it was Snatch. We definitely watched Snatch last weekend, but I can’t remember if we’ve watched another movie since then... Unless it’s to do with my fics, my memory is terrible... 😅

Last thing I Googled: Italian swearwords (you will understand when I post Chapter 2 of Sleepless in New York!)

Favourite Musician: Eugh... I have no idea! What music I listen to depends on what mood I’m in. But at the moment it’s a bit of a four-way tie between Luke Bryan, Jeremy Renner and Ed Sheeran (previously it was Chris Stapleton and Mikolas Josef).

Song Stuck in my head: Bad Habits by Ed Sheeran (my new favourite song!) Did I mention I like Ed Sheeran at the moment...? 😅

Other Blogs: https://yycwalkies.wordpress.com/ Haven’t updated it since I started writing fanfic though...

Blogs Following: Mostly TRR writers, but some art, photography and movies/TV shows as well

Sleep Patterns: A lot 😆 I love sleep! I got to bed between 9:30pm and 10:00pm usually as I need to be up by 7:00am to take my son to pre-school and I need at least 9 hours of sleep a night to be functional the next day.

Lucky Numbers: 2, 7, 14, 72

What am I wearing: Cosy sweatpants, t-shirt and an oversized cardigan (it’s winter where I am - as in cold + snow). When I’m at home, I wear ‘home’ clothes.

What would I do if capitalism didn’t exist: Guess it kind of depends on what we’d have instead... Would it be communism (in which case I’d probably be writing for some kind of underground anti-establishment publication), or something more idealistic like a hippie commune (in which case I’d be reconnecting with nature and doing a lot of yoga)

Dream Trip: Oh, my God... so many! I want to go see the Pyramids, Machu Pichu, the Great Wall of China, Japan, New Zealand, Yellowstone, go on safari in Kenya, cruise around the Med, Istanbul, Ireland, Scotland, Montana, Texas, explore all of Canada... The list goes on!

Favourite Food: Again... This is a hard question. Depends on what mood I’m in. But I will very rarely turn down Asian-fusion, sushi, Indian, burgers, Italian- or New York-style pizza (I like the thin crust). And cake. I love cake! 🍰

Instruments I play: None at the moment... I used to play the piano in elementary school and flute in middle school, but I’ve totally forgotten these skills now!

Languages I speak: English, Hungarian and some French. I used to be able to speak Danish (spent a year abroad there and took a month-long Danish language course). I can also read and get the gist of Spanish based on French. Just don’t ask me to say anything!

Favourite Songs: Oh, so many! Some of them include:

Ed Sheeran - Shivers, Bad Habits, Stop the Rain, Sing, Shape of You, Galway Girl

Luke Bryan - Move, My Kind of Night, Driving This Thing, Knockin’ Boots, Country Girl (Shake It For Me)

Jeremy Renner - Nomad, Just My Type, She’s a Fire, Main Attraction

Chris Stapleton - Parachute, Tennessee Whiskey

Bryan Adams - Open Road, Run to You, The Only Thing That Looks Good on Me is You

Mikolas Jozef - Lie to Me, Colorado, Me Gusta

Other - Good Times Roll (Jimmie Allen & Brad Plaisley), Old Town Road (Lil Nas X & Bill Ray Cyrus), Honky Tonk On (Hayden Haddock), All Eyes on Us (Jon Langston), Must Be the Whiskey (Cody Jinks), High Horse (Nelly, Breland & Blanco Brown), Throw it Back (Breland & Keith Urban), Hard to Leave (Riley Green), Lit in the Sticks (Ryan Langdon), Chasing After You (Ryan Hurd & Maren Morris), She Drives Me Crazy (Brad Kissel), Take My Breath (The Weeknd)

Random facts about me: I’ve lived in 7 countries so far; when I was young (like a toddler) I was ambidextrous and really good a drawing (according to my mom, at any rate!); I’ve been writing since high school; I’ve loved reading since elementary school; I’m a total introvert and need to spend some alone time each day, or I get massively grouchy; we have two doggos and a catto; I love horse riding and hiking; I love chocolate!

Tagging @aussiegurl1234 @angelasscribbles @nestledonthaveone @petiteboheme @walkerdrakewalker @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14 @peonierose and anyone else who wants to share some info about themselves!

#kara halloway #this is me #20 questions

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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years

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Little Dragon - Part 8

Summary: You were a child slave of Meereen, when one day a silver haired woman sets you free. Though your master isn’t too keen on letting you go, and Daenerys took personal action to see you freed and taken care of.

High Valyrian is in cursive

You were listening intently to the conversations going on in the war room, so many faces that you wanted to remember, their names, their houses, their history, but for now you settled on staying silent and listening, “are you really sure we can discuss this around her?” your head snapped towards the accented voice, seeing a beautiful woman with olive skin, black hair and dark brown eyes, and you wanted to look to your mother for help, but decided that you couldn’t use her as a pillar forever “(Y/N) Targaryen, Lady…?” you couldn’t help your tone, you were not a little girl wearing a collar around her neck anymore, jumping at the slightest of sounds. You were still timid and childish with Daenerys and Missandei, because you knew you could afford it, but you didn’t know these people, they were allies of your mother, but you didn’t know them.

“Ellaria” she sounded tense as she responded, she probably hadn't known you were the daughter of Daenerys, but you merely nodded “well, Lady Ellaria, I would prefer that if you are done questioning who your Queen trusts, perhaps we could get back to planning the war we are currently in” you heard a short laugh, your eyes glancing to none other than Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, and the only living Tyrell left. “Are you sure you did not birthe her? She has the spirit of a dragon that one” Daenerys did everything to not smirk proudly at Olenna’s comment, and even Ellaria looked a bit surprised at your response “now… I agree that a foreign army would send the wrong signal, but an army from Westeros, it would show that we are not here to raid and pillage, the Dothraki will not do so unless their Khaleesi orders and my mother never will, the Unsullied are obedient and loyal, so they won’t either, but we need Westeros with us, and showing that their own houses are turning on Cercei is a good way to win quickly and without a lot of losses, on either side”, you studied the map as you spoke, unaware of the impressed looks everyone gave you, Tyrion being the first to speak up “well… I agree” you glanced at him and sent him a quick smile, one of the few smiles you had offered him, but you didn’t really know him either, so it was justified that you didn’t treat him, or Varys, as warmly as the rest of your mother’s allies.

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You stood impatiently besides Daenerys in the throne room, and Daenerys couldn’t help the amused glance she shared with Missandei “alright go, but change before you do!” you barely even heard the rest of her sentence, you were already off, heading towards your room. In record breaking time you changed from your formal dress to a special outfit you had made for you. You had been riding Rhaegal much more frequently, and today were the day of the arrival of Jon Snow, King in the North, and you had promised to stay for his arrival and then ride Rhaegal after, but you couldn’t help fidgeting, and were more than happy that Daenerys excused you. You put on your leather trousers, securing them with a harness that was connected to them, ensuring that they didn’t fall down, not even an inch, you had a tunic under your harness, pulling a shortened cloak over your shoulders and tying it to the harness, making sure the knots were tight, the cloak was warm but light, it reached just below your hips, but kept you warm. Next you threw on a pair of gloves made from cloth on the inside and leather on the outside, and then your boots, they were high, they almost reached your knees, and you pulled the laces tight, so they wouldn’t fall off during the flight.

Your room had an open balcony, just like Daenerys’, and you approached the edge, grinning widely as you waited. You couldn’t help the excited giggle you let out as you heard him roar as he came closer, and in a leap of faith you jumped off of the balcony, you let out a little huff as you landed on scales, and a few moments later you got a good grip, holding onto Rhaegal as you flew away from the castle, going high up and then soaring, admiring the landscape below, seeing a ship you presumed belonged to Jon Snow, you flew towards Drogon and Viseryon who were flying on the other side of the island. You could still just about watch Tyrion greet Jon Snow, and saw them making their way towards the entrance.

A wicked smile grazed your lips as you got an idea, and somehow Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal knew what your plan was, Rhaegal let out an ear shattering roar as you held on tightly, flying towards Tyrion and the two men he were leading up the long stone staircase. You leaned forward as you flew closer to the ground, Rhaegal barely managing to not hit the small people below, something that made you laugh loudly and you couldn’t help but cheer, Tyrion seeing you on Rhaegal as you waved at him, and you could see him shake his head, but you also knew of the smile he tried to hide, he was probably telling Jon that he himself wasn’t used to the presence of the dragons.

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You heaved heavily as you ran into the throne room, your hair wild from the wind, your chest rising dramatically as you tried to catch your breath, standing besides Daenerys who did her very best to not smirk at you proudly, instead she tried to look as regal as ever, waiting patiently for this, Jon Snow, to arrive.

Rhaegal had barely managed to throw you off on the open balcony you jumped out of earlier, you almost bumped into a few tables on your way to the throne room, a fact that made you smile amused before trying to hide it. “Well, at least you made it back in time” her words could be mistaken as scolding, but you knew her better, and you couldn’t help the breathless giggle you let out “think I scared an inch or so off of Lord Tyrion” Daenerys let out a short, although quiet, laugh at your comment, shooting you a very poor attempt of a scolding gaze before looking back towards the large doors at the end of the throne room, making you straighten your back, your smile faltering and your hands placed in front of yourself, as you always did when you had attended any court meeting.

You watched the two strangers as Missandei went down the list of titles that your Queen had acquired along the way, something you took great pride in, she was your mother after all.

“And this is (Y/N) Targaryen, daughter of Queen Daenerys Stormborn, princess of the Seven Kingdoms and heir to the throne” Missandei finally ended, and the two men looked at you confused, giving you the impression that they didn’t know that much about your mother, and therefore you, they had probably only heard rumours, lies or other falsehoods, and therefore didn’t know of your existence, which was probably not a bad thing. You had heard of how the usurper King Robert Baratheon had sent assassins to kill Daenerys, even while she was pregnant, so who says they wouldn’t have been sent after you, back then nothing more than a little girl, had the usurper's children heard of your existence, and Daenerys’ love for you. You were snapped out of your day dream as Daenerys got up, approaching Jon Snow and his adviser, and first now you tuned in on their conversation, a small frown resting on your brows, hearing her words, but you couldn’t deny the pride it gave you, despite hearing all that she had suffered, “I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert's assassins could find us. Robert was your father's best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now, of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me, I don't remember all their names. I have been sold like a broodmare. I've been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing, through all those years in exile? Faith. Not in any god, not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries, until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea, any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms, and I will, and so will my daughter.” Her gaze turned to you for a brief moment and you smiled proudly, one she proudly returned before turning back to Jon Snow.

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You frowned as you watched your mother study the map in silence, you wanted to say something, you really did, but what could you say? The Iron Fleet was gone, Yara and Ellaria had been taken prisoner and Jon Snow refused to bend the knee and instead only wants to hack away at some mysterious stone somewhere in a cave on the island, claiming that an army of undead people and giants are the true enemy.

You couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips, you being the only one to actually make a sound in the entire map room “maybe…” you dared a glance at your mother, not that you feared her, but more that you knew of the thin ice you were balancing on “maybe you should just let him mine this… ‘dragonglass’... it means nothing to you after all” Daenerys looked to you slowly, and for a second everyone in the room were praying to whoever and whatever that you hadn’t crossed a line, but when you received no response, you continued, “you didn’t know it was there, no one did… there are two options here, either he’s right, in which it doesn’t hurt you or your army or your dragons to comply, or he’s mad, and it won’t hurt you, your army or your dragons either. There’s no outcome here where anything bad is an outcome, you complying will also show that yes, you are to be feared, but you are also complying and reasonable, and allowing one man, one person to mine something of no value is a sign that you are with the people of Westeros” there was another second of silence, but eventually Daenerys smiled at you, walked over to you and placed a gentle hand on your cheek, looking at you with a proud look in her eyes before walking off.

“Where is she going?” Tyrion looked at you baffled and confused, but you simply shrugged “to allow Jon Snow to mine the Dragonglass” you leaned over the map table, studying the different areas, looking at the different highlighted places, such as King’s Landing, Winterfell, all the places you’ve only ever read about, you couldn't wait to see them for real.

#Daenerys Targaryen #Daenerys Targaryen x Child!Reader #GoTFanFic

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cappymightwrite · 3 years

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So I’ve just read your meta on the TWOW Alayne I sample chapter (it’s amazing btw!) and I noticed something while reading it that I wanted to share and see if anybody else has noticed - nearly every man Alayne dances with during the feast could be taken as a reference to Jon or the Night’s Watch.

Ben Coldwater -> Snow is, obviously, cold water, and Ben is a sneaky Benjen reference

Andrew Tollett -> most likely related to Dolorous Edd Tollett, Jon’s old steward and good friend

Ser Byron the Beautiful -> GRRM has described Jon as a Byronic hero

Ser Morgarth and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse -> these men are more dubious, I’m not really sure of the link with Morgarth. Shadrich is a callback from Brienne’s AFFC plot though, and a sign that Sansa’s cover isn’t as secure as she and Littlefinger think it is

Ser Albar Royce - a reference to Waymar Royce, he of the many Jon parallels and Sansa’s old crush, though she finds his cousin(?) stout and dull

The Sunderlands - their family are the lords of the Three Sisters. In ADWD, Davos is told a story on Sweetsister about Ned having to sneak across the Bite during Robert’s Rebellion, to get North and call his banners. A fisherman helped him but drowned when a storm caught their boat - but his daughter got Ned safely to the Sisters. The prevailing story on the islands seems to be that he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly, whom she named after Jon Arryn

Uther Shett - I was half-convinced this guy also had a relative on the wall, because his name (insulting pun aside) seems to be a reference to Chett, the prologue POV of ASOS who had a grudge against Jon for losing him his position as one of Maester Aemon’s stewards in favour of Sam

Ser Targon the Halfwild - Jon will likely be half-wild when he comes back from the dead, but he’s already been described as ‘half a wildling’ multiple times. Also Targon = Targ-Jon?

Ser Roland and Ser Wallace Waynwood - both are described earlier in the chapter as long-faced with brown hair, which are also Stark features. Alayne thinks of them as “horsefaced”, probably an Arya reference that also calls back to her and Jon’s shared Stark look. Wallace is even the same age as Robb, and thus Jon, would be.

So though Jon wasn’t mentioned by name in the chapter, I think he was very present... not just lemoncake-wise ;)

Thank you! :D Haha for a moment there I was like...wait which meta? Had to take my mind back for a sec there because I've written quite a bit since then! But yeah, doing deep dives into certain chapters is really fun — my next one that's in the works is Jon XI in A Dance With Dragons. Great to hear you enjoyed my Winds one :)

Ooooh that is really interesting and a mighty fine catch! Definitely the vibe I got whilst reading that chapter, after having analysed Alayne II, AFFC (which chronologically precedes it), is that Jon's presence or references to him are made subtly throughout the chapter(s) — especially whenever Winterfell is alluded to because Jon is the "Snow of Wintefell", the "blood of Winterfell", etc. But also vice versa, Sansa is very much connected to Winterfell in Jon's chapters as well — "Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa."

But let's take a look at those names you listed below the cut! Big post ahead, so buckle up kids!

So, I hadn't noticed the significance of those names on my reading, but I can well believe what you're suggesting because it plays very much into how I interpreted the subconscious goings on of that chapter — that you have these rememberances/reminders of Winterfell and Sansa's Stark idenity at crucial moments within the chapter’s narrative pacing, especially prior to moments with Harry the Heir. Not to sound too crass, but it's sort like a marking of territory, and this is made even stronger by that goddamn phallic as hell Giant's Lance lemoncake (aka Jon's peen). It's all quite neatly buried, but when you start matching up the imagery...I mean, I guess wolves are territorial beasts, so...checks out? (George...why are you like this?)

It is interesting that we get that iconic entrance of the Giant's Lance lemoncake prior to these dance partners, i.e. a claim has been staked essentially, and it ain't from Littlefinger, which is what could be interpreted on first inspection. And let's not beat around the bush, as uncomfortable as it is (because Sansa is ONLY 13/14!!), this is a sexual claim being made owing to the phallic symbolism and the general tone of the chapter being about Alayne's betrothal/marriage:

And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar.

For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out.

I legit just snorted re-reading this: "splendid subtlety" MY ASS! What follows is a whole lot of gift-giving, which come to think of it, in combination with this bloody big cake...well, it reads quite a bit like a wedding breakfast to me, followed by dancing, in addition to a possible nod to a Stark bridal cloak, masked by the Arryn colours:

There were gifts as well, splendid gifts. Each of the competitors received a cloak of cloth-of-silver and a lapis brooch in the shape of a pair of falcon’s wings. Fine steel daggers were given to the brothers, fathers, and friends who had come to watch them tilt. For their mothers, sisters, and ladies fair there were bolts of silk and Myrish lace.

Because if we compare this "cloak of cloth-of-silver" with previous descriptions of Sansa's maiden cloak, we see this obvious recurring inclusion of either silver or grey as one of the Stark colours:

Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain.

A maiden's cloak. Sansa's hand went to her throat. She would have torn the thing away if she had dared. – ASOS, Sansa III

"[...] and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back...why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright [...]" – AFFC, Alayne II

This is all very in keeping with the theme of the chapter, which is meeting Alayne's betrothed, Harrold Hardyng, so obviously a future marriage/alliance is very much a prevalent theme here. Furthermore, the mention of "Myrish lace" for the "ladies fair" does somewhat remind me of Alys Karstark's wedding garb:

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled.

"Winter's lady." Jon squeezed her hand. – ADWD, Jon X

I think some other people have mentioned before how even though Jon makes a conscious comparison between Arya and Alys — "reminded Jon so much of his little sister" — the romanticised, flushed cheeked imagery very much points towards a subconsious allusion to Sansa (ETA: anyone spoken on this got a link?). With that in mind, we could see this as foreshadowing of not only Jonsa, but a Jonsa wedding, and Sansa as Queen in the North — "a frosty crown" "Winter's lady" — with Jon as her king/consort. In my current Jon chapter analysis I've been working with the idea that actually as soon as Jon starts romanticising a girl, which is notably different from just noticing someone's physical beauty (e.g. with Val), that is when the subconscious comparisons to Sansa really jump out.

But anyway! Onto those names...or rather, Jon Snow stand-ins.

Rising, [Ben Coldwater] offered Alayne his hand. “Would you honor me with this dance, my lady?”

“You’re very kind,” she said, as he led her to the floor.

He was her first partner of the evening, but far from the last. Just as Petyr had promised, the young knights flocked around her, vying for her favor. After Ben came Andrew Tollett, handsome Ser Byron, red-nosed Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse. Then Ser Albar Royce, Myranda’s stout dull brother and Lord Nestor’s heir. She danced with all three Sunderlands, none of whom had webs between their fingers, though she could not vouch for their toes. Uther Shett appeared to pay her slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet, but Ser Targon the Halfwild proved to be the soul of courtesy. After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment. When the dance was done she excused herself, and went back to her place to have a drink of wine.

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. “Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?”

She considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

If I've counted that right, that's 14 men? Alright, here we go.

First up...Ben Coldwater

I think you're right that Ben Coldwater feels very much like a nod to Ben-jen Stark, who is referred to as Ben a few times I think, and Jon Snow (cold water = snow), both men of the Night's Watch. House Coldwater also traces its lineage back to the First Men, and are sworn to House Royce, who are also notably descended from the First Men, have previously married into the Stark family and still maintain close connections to the current house through Ned's fosterage in the Vale. So, through the Royces, we see another possible connection to the Starks and Jon Snow...Jon Snow who was named after Jon Arryn.

I would also add that we have Ben make this inquiry prior to his dance with Alayne:

“Are there no singers?” asked Ben Coldwater.

I don't know, maybe I'm reaching but...singers feature quite a lot in connection to Jon, for instance:

Mance Rayder, who infiltrates Winterfell disguised as a singer called Abel, an anagram of Bael, aka Bael the Bard;

Bael the Bard and the Blue Rose of Winterfell — a story told to Jon by Ygritte, which very much evokes the tale of Rhaegar and Lyanna;

Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon's real father, was a notably skilled lyre player, whose singing supposedly made Lyanna cry — "The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle," (ASOS, Bran II). He is also theorised to have written the song Jenny of Oldstones, possibly for the Ghost of High Heart, Jenny's friend.

Ygritte — when Jon starts to find her more attractive, when he starts to romanticise her, he observes that "sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him," (ASOS, Jon II).

Val — again, we start to see Jon begin to warm to Val, to see her in more of a romantic + typically feminine light, because of her singing to the baby Monster: "I have heard you singing to him," (ADWD, Jon VIII).

Sansa — oh, my sweet Sansa...when remembering his family, not quite in his dying moments, but a little bit prior to that, Jon thinks "Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow," (ADWD, Jon XIII).

I think it's clear that Jon loves a good song and you know what? He'd probably be asking about the lack of singers too! One final detail perhaps worth noting is the seat of House Coldwater:

[...] the Coldwaters of Coldwater Burn [...] – TWOIAF, The Vale

Obviously, the "song of ice and fire" is not a person, but more the elemental and destructive forces of the Others and the dragons, yet nevertheless, through Jon's parentage, as well as his actions (burned hand, etc.), plus his personality to a certain extent (hot-headed then repressing emotions) you do have this duality of hot and cold, of fire and ice...Coldwater Burn? Could be something.

Ser Andrew Tollett

So, like you said, the name Tollett immediately puts us in mind of Eddison Tollett, also known as Dolorous Edd, who is like Jon, a black brother of the Night's Watch. And he is a good brother to Jon, voting for him in the election for the Lord Commander, as well as becoming his loyal steward for a time, before being sent on a mission to Long Barrow. Interestingly, Dolorous Edd, as well as the Tolletts in general, do have a bit of a Stark vibe to them...

Like a typical Stark, Dolorous Edd is described as having a "long face" (ACOK, Jon III), a face like a mule's to be exact, but also notably a horse's as well:

"[...] Me, I have the mules. Nettles claims we're kin. It's true we have the same long face, but I'm not near as stubborn [...]" – ADWD, Jon XII

He only wished he had time to kill Tollett as well. Gloomy horsefaced fool, that's what he is. – ASOS, Prologue

He is given the nickname Dolorous Edd (dolorous = mournful), and is referred to several times as being "dour" (ACOK, Jon II, Jon III, ASOS, Jon V, ADWD, Jon XII, XIII), an attribute not entirely out of place when we consider some notable Starks and their disposition, as well as their house words:

He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. – AGOT, Tyrion II

Winter is coming. The Stark words had never sounded so grim or ominous to Jon as they did now. – AGOT, Jon VIII

I gave my maidenhood to this solemn stranger and sent him off to his war and his king and the woman who bore him his bastard, because I always did my duty. – ACOK, Catelyn VI

Ned was shorter and plainer of face, and so somber. He spoke courteously enough, but beneath the words she sensed a coolness that was all at odds with Brandon, whose mirths had been as wild as his rages [...] And after the war, at Winterfell, I had love enough for any woman, once I found the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face. – ASOS, Catelyn V

So, not unlike Jon, Arya and Ned, Dolorous Edd has a "long and solemn" face (AGOT, Arya I), as well as a "dour" personality. Furthermore, even House Tollet of Grey Glen's sigil and words have Stark vibes, since according to semi-canon sources, their shield is "pily grey and black" and their words are "When all is darkest," which arguably carries the same ominous, Long Night warning of "Winter is coming". In addition to this, like the Coldwaters, the Tollets are sworn to the First Men descended Royces.

But beyond this, if we take a look at some legendary and historical Tolletts...we actually have two notable names:

Torgold Tollett — also known as Torgold the Grim, though ironically, because he was famous for riding into battle laughing, and naked from the waist up:

The songs say that Torgold knew no fear and felt no pain. Though bleeding from a score of wounds, he cut a red swathe through Lord Redfort's staunchest warriors, then took his lordship's arm off at the shoulder with a single cut. Nor was he dismayed when the sorceress Ursula Upcliff appeared upon a bloodred horse to curse him. By then he was bare-handed, having left both of his axes buried in a foe's chest, but the singers say he leapt upon the witch's horse, grasped her face between two bloody hands, and tore her head from her shoulders as she screamed for succor. – TWOIAF, The Vale

Ser Jon Tollett — In Fire & Blood, Jon Tollett is recorded as a member of King Maegor the Cruel's Kingsguard. After the king's mysterious death, his successor, King Jaeherys I, offered Maegor's surviving Kingsguard a choice between execution or taking the black. Jon Tollett chose the latter. This somewhat parallels Ned's decision to take the black, to a certain extent.

You could argue that there are more than a few similarities, or future foreshadowings, between these Tolletts and Jon Snow...

Ser Byron the Beautiful

Like you mentioned, Jon Snow has been described by GRRM as a "Byronic, romantic hero". I'm so annoyed with myself, because I had written up some good stuff on how Jon really does possess certain Byronic traits but as I was inserting a gif it ended up deleting most of what I wrote...so I'm still a bit bitter over that, but will rewrite it at some point soon. Take my word for it though, Jon Snow is 100% more of a Byronic Hero (a la Byron's own Manfred), than Sandor Clegane, for example:

GRRM: “Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love.” [source]

Ser Byron, as well as being described as beautiful, is also notably very gallant, the perfect knight:

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders. – AFFC, Alayne II

We all know that Sansa appreciates a bit of genuine courtesy, and in fact, she's taught Jon well in that regard:

"Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower."

"That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her. – ACOK, Jon III

I think this Jon stand-in does rely mostly on Jon's connection to the Byronic Hero. So, if anyone is still a bit dubious on that (because Rochester and Heathcliff are trash), just hang in there for my eventual meta on the subject, which focuses on Lord Byron's OG Byronic Hero, rather than the later Brontë/Victorian iterations.

In fact, in terms of Jon's parentage and future romance with Sansa, there's one Byronic tale that may be a particular source of inspiration — The Bride of Abydos. This poem notably includes a romance in which half-siblings are revealed to be cousins...sound familiar?

Ser Morgarth the Merry

Another hedge knight, like Ser Byron, who is sworn into the service of Petyr Baelish. I've got to agree with you here, red-nosed Ser Morgarth's connection to Jon is quite a bit harder to decipher! I have done a little digging though, and it is possible that the Garth in Morgarth is a reference to several Garths that appear in Jon's chapters, as well as Garth Greenhand, the alleged ancestor of legendary House Stark founder...Brandon the Builder:

Garth of Oldtown

Garth of Greenaway

Garth Greyfeather

All of these Garths are rangers/members of the Night's Watch at the same time as Jon, though I think by Dance it is presumed that they are all dead, or at least missing — in fact, Garth of Greenaway kills Garth of Oldtown. Garth on Garth violence!!

Haha, oh god...I think I just got the pun...Morgarth = More Garth! More Garths the merrier! Get it?! More Garths everybody!

George, I hate you.

Ok, so that's what that is. It's literally just a dumb pun, yet it also connects Morgarth to the Night's Watch Garths, and therefore Jon.

Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse

I think you're right that Ser Shadrich's presence connects us to Brienne's quest, as well as foreshadowing potential shit hitting the fan at the tourney of the Winged Knights. But he also notably makes some interesting remarks, both to Brienne and Sansa, which we can connect to Jon Snow's secret Targaryen heritage:

"Where?" Brienne slapped another silver stag down.

He flicked the coin back at her with his forefinger. "Someplace no stag ever found...though a dragon might." – AFFC, Brienne III

On the surface, in response to Brienne's questioning about the whereabouts of the Stark sisters, Shadrich is talking about a monetary bribe. However, beneath that explicit meaning, is an implicit reference to a stag (Joffrey) failing, where a dragon (Jon) will succeed. Others have talked about this line in more detail elsewhere, but it seems like a pretty good allusion to the foils, Joffrey (a prince who is really a bastard) and Jon (a bastard who is really a prince).

In this exact Winds chapter, however, we also see a conversation between Alayne and Shadrich, which hints at his possible plans to uncover and abduct Sansa Stark in return for a lucrative reward:

“A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that’s not likely, is it?”

This "stumbl[ing] on a bag of dragons" could also be seen as an implicit nod towards stumbling upon Jon's Targaryen heritage later in the novel, something that is more "likely" than anyone would expect. That claim might be a reach, were it not for the implication that when Shadrich talks about money, i.e. dragons...he isn't actually talking about gold coins, he's talking about Targaryens, but more than that...he's talking specifically about Jon Snow.

Ser Albar Royce

"Myranda’s stout dull brother and Lord Nestor’s heir." I think like Ser Morgarth, the physical appearance of these stand-ins doesn't always play a factor, because it would be kind of unnerving if they all had solemn long faces... So, what is important here is, like you say, the name Royce and his relation to Ser Waymar Royce, Sansa's first crush, who just happens to resemble and parallels Jon quite a bit:

She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. – AFFC, Alayne I

Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife. Mounted on his huge black destrier, the knight towered above Will and Gared on their smaller garrons. He wore black leather boots, black woolen pants, black moleskin gloves, and a fine supple coat of gleaming black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather. Ser Waymar had been a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch for less than half a year, but no one could say he had not prepared for his vocation. At least insofar as his wardrobe was concerned. – AGOT, Prologue

Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast. – AGOT, Bran I

"They're not my brothers," Jon snapped. "They hate me because I'm better than they are." – AGOT, Jon III

Although, it is worth noting that the Royces, as a whole, do somewhat resemble the Starks in appearance, at least in terms of their eye colour:

Bronze Yohn Royce, the current head of House Royce of Runestone, has "slate-grey eyes" as well as a "solemn face", (AFFC, Alayne I).

Ser Robar, his second son was "comely in a rough-hewn way" (ACOK, Catelyn III), with "pale" eyes (ACOK, Catelyn IV), possibly grey like his father's.

Ser Waymar, Yohn's third son, as mentioned, was "grey-eyed" (AGOT, Prologue).

It isn't as clear whether or not their cadet branch, which Albar belongs to, tend towards grey eyes as well, though we know that Myranda has brown hair, specifically "thick chestnut curls" (AFFC, Alayne II) — typical looking Starks, like Ned, Arya, and Jon, all have brown/dark hair.

As previously mentioned, the Royces are also descended from the First Men, have kinship links to the Starks, knew Ned when he fostered in the Vale, and Bronze Yohn even "knows" Sansa Stark:

"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw...he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney." – AFFC, Alayne I

His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa's memories of his time at Winterfell. She remembered him at table, speaking quietly with her mother. She heard his voice booming off the walls when he rode back from a hunt with a buck behind his saddle. She could see him in the yard, a practice sword in hand, hammering her father to the ground and turning to defeat Ser Rodrik as well. He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me? The war is finished and Winterfell is fallen. "Lord Royce," she asked timidly, "will you have a cup of wine, to take the chill off?"

Bronze Yohn had slate-grey eyes, half-hidden beneath the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen. They crinkled when he looked down at her. "Do I know you, girl?" – AFFC, Alayne I

They also have the house words "We will remember", which somewhat evokes the recurring refrain "the north remembers" (ASOS, Catelyn, ADWD, Davos IV, ADWD, A Ghost in Winterfell, TWOW, Theon I), as well as a possible remembrance of the Long Night, similar to the Starks’ and Tolletts’ words. All in all, as well as evoking a certain Starkness (and Jon-ness), the Royces seem set up to be staunch allies of the Starks going forward.

All Three Sunderlands

Since these Sunderland brothers aren't given names, we can assume what is significant about them, in relation to Jon and Sansa, is their Sunderland name. As you noted, the Sunderlands are the reigning lords of the Three Sisters, and in Dance, through Davos' pov, we hear about Ned's time there during Robert's Rebellion:

"At the dawn of Robert's Rebellion. The Mad King had sent to the Eyrie for Stark's head, but Jon Arryn sent him back defiance. Gulltown stayed loyal to the throne, though. To get home and call his banners, Stark had to cross the mountains to the Fingers and find a fisherman to carry him across the Bite. A storm caught them on the way. The fisherman drowned, but his daughter got Stark to the Sisters before the boat went down. They say he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly. Jon Snow, she named him, after Arryn.

"Be that as it may. My father sat where I sit now when Lord Eddard came to Sisterton. Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward. The Mad King was open-handed with them as pleased him. By then we knew that Jon Arryn had taken Gulltown, though. Robert was the first man to gain the wall, and slew Marq Grafton with his own hand. 'This Baratheon is fearless,' I said. 'He fights the way a king should fight.' Our maester chuckled at me and told us that Prince Rhaegar was certain to defeat this rebel. That was when Stark said, 'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true…but what if we prevail?' My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,' he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.' " – ADWD, Davos I

This passage has one of my favourite asoiaf quotes of all time..."In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true...but what if we prevail?" Truly iconic. So defiantly hopeful.

But, yes, you're right that this story, and the Sunderlands, connects us to Ned, but more importantly...to Jon Snow. Really, Jon has quite a few Vale connections, all things considered, and he is named after Jon Arryn after all!

Uther Shett

Well, along with his buddy Ossifer Lipps (ass for lips), Uther Shett (utter shit) is an example of George having some pretty lowbrow fun with punny names. During their dance, Uther paid Alayne "slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet"...so not the best partner!

But from one shit to another...I think you're probably right that Uther Shett is meant to recall Chett, indeed, if we take a look at his description in Winds:

The one on her left was no more than eighteen, and skinny as a spear. His ginger-colored whiskers only partially served to disguise the angry red pimples that dotted his face.

His bad skin is somewhat comparable to Chett's boils:

Chett had a wen on his neck the size of a pigeon's egg, and a face red with boils and pimples. Perhaps that was why he always seemed so angry. – AGOT, Jon V

What is also noteworthy about Chett's prologue pov in ASOS, is that we get this linking of literal snow and Jon Snow:

Snow was falling.

He could feel tears freezing to his cheeks. It isn't fair, he wanted to scream. Snow would ruin everything he'd worked for, all his careful plans. It was a heavy fall, thick white flakes coming down all about him [...] The snow's taken it all from me...the bloody snow...

Snow had ruined him once before. Snow and his pet pig. – ASOS, Prologue

This makes any mention of snow beyond this point a bit more noteworthy, especially since Jon is referred to as "the Snow of Winterfell," (ASOS, Jon I), and we also have Sansa's famous "drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses" whilst building Winterfell out of snow scene, also in ASOS, (Sansa VII). So, Chett is very important when it comes to establishing this connection.

Ser Targon the Halfwild

Targon is only mentioned once and it is in that list of dance partners. He's not connected to any particular house, all we know of him is that he is a knight and that he "proved to be the soul of courtesy." This detail is interesting because it sort goes against his "Halfwild" moniker — he is courteous in spite of his half-wildness. Likewise, Jon is also courteous, chivalrous and knightly even, in spite of the stigma attached to being a bastard:

They still think me a turncloak. That was a bitter draft to drink, but Jon could not blame them. He was a bastard, after all. Everyone knew that bastards were wanton and treacherous by nature, having been born of lust and deceit. And he had made as many enemies as friends at Castle Black...Rast, for one. Jon had once threatened to have Ghost rip his throat out unless he stopped tormenting Samwell Tarly, and Rast did not forget things like that. – ASOS, Jon VII

As mentioned in comparison to Ser Byron, Jon behaves courteously towards Gilly, calling her name "pretty", just as Sansa taught him. He also often refers to Val as "my lady" despite her being a proud woman of the Free Folk. Jon also clearly looks up to and wishes to emulate legendary knights to a certain extent, and behaving with courtesy and honour is very much part of that:

They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne." – ASOS, Jon XII

Furthermore, Jon has this connection to the Free Folk, also known as the wildlings, having spent a fair amount of time with them:

"The wildling blood is the blood of the First Men, the same blood that flows in the veins of the Starks [...]" – ASOS, Jon I

"Some of your own Sworn Brothers would have me believe that you are half a wildling yourself. Is it true?" – ADWD, Jon IV

Mully cleared his throat. "M'lord? The wildling princess, letting her go, the men may say—"

"—that I am half a wildling myself, a turncloak who means to sell the realm to our raiders, cannibals, and giants." Jon did not need to stare into a fire to know what was being said of him. The worst part was, they were not wrong, not wholly. "Words are wind, and the wind is always blowing at the Wall. Come." – ADWD, Jon VIII

"A wildling. A filthy, murdering wildling." Cregan's hands closed into fists. The gloves that covered them were leather, lined with fur to match the cloak that hung matted and stiff from his broad shoulders. His black wool surcoat was emblazoned with the white sunburst of his house. "I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" He laughed. "If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood."

"My name is Snow." – ADWD, Jon X

I am not the trusting fool you take me for...nor am I half wildling, no matter what you believe. – ADWD, Jon XI

If Stark blood is also essentially wildling blood, and Jon is half Stark on his mother's side...that would make him "Halfwild" in blood as well as in spirit. And like you said, Targon feels very close to Targaryen/Targ-Jon. So this name is there solely as a hint towards Jon's true parentage — half Targaryen and half Stark. But I think you could argue that the "Halfwild" element could allude to Jon's post-resurrection state as well. I do personally like the idea of Feral Jon™.

Ser Roland & Ser Wallace Waynwood

Like the Royces, and Dolorous Edd, the Waynwoods also bear some notable Stark physical traits, as noted by Myranda in this chapter:

“The first Lady Waynwood must have been a mare, I think. How else to explain why all the Waynwood men are horse-faced? [...]"

As we know, looking horse-faced, or in Edd's case, mule-faced, indicates a rather long visage:

Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. – AGOT, Arya I

[Arya] even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. – AGOT, Sansa I

Interestingly though, Jon is never referred to as being called horse-faced, although we know he has a long Stark face. You'd think that Chett, in the ASOS Prologue would have made that kind of dig, since he says as much about Dolorous Edd? This is why I tentatively believe that, although long-faced, Jon isn't as apparently "homely" as these Stark looking Waynwood brothers:

Ser Roland was the oldest of the three, though no more than five-and-twenty. He was taller and more muscular than Ser Wallace, but both were long-faced and lantern-jawed, with stringy brown hair and pinched noses. Horsefaced and homely, Alayne thought.

That being said, I don't think he's as "handsome" as Ser Waymar Royce, or "beautiful" like Ser Byron. But obviously, he's got something going for him because as GRRM says "all the girls love" him, and you know, he's got a good bod probably and if the Giant's Lance cake is anything to go by, as well as all Tormund's small penis jokes...um, well, maybe he's packing, I don't know! (Don't look at me like that guys...it's GRRM not me!)

But anyway! Like you said, Ser Wallace Waynwood is even of an age with Robb, and therefore also Jon:

Robb would be his age, if he were still alive, she could not help but think, but Robb died a king, and this is just a boy.

There is also a teeny bit of Stark blood, though obviously potent stuff, in the mix with those Waynwoods:

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest...it might have been a Templeton, but..."

"Mother." There was a sharpness in Robb's tone. "You forget. My father had four sons." – ASOS, Catelyn V

Shit — "all of whom wed Vale lordlings" — that's probably where all these Stark looking mother fudgers are coming from. So, all in all, I think there's some strong parallels.

And finally...Ser Harrold Hardyng

But let's not forget this bitch.

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. “Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?”

She considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

Prior to Harry, who notably fits into the Ashford pattern of Sansa's suitors, we have all these Jon stand-ins, or references to Jon. We can actually separate them out into their different functions, though there is some overlap with Andrew Tollett:

Those who reference Jon's Starkness/the Stark Look™:

Andrew Tollett

Albar Royce

Roland Waynwood

Wallace Waynwood

Those who reference his position/location at the Night's Watch:

Because in the Alayne chapter prior to this one, Sansa learns that Jon has been made Lord Commander:

[..] Oh, and the Night’s Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark’s.” “Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised. “Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.” – AFFC, Alayne II

So, it is interesting that you then have a number of dance partners connected to members of the Watch:

Ben Coldwater

Andrew Tollett

Morgarth the Merry

Uther Shett

This could be read as foreshadowing for Sansa's future journey north, and specifically to the Wall, where she believes Jon to be.

Those who reference his true/uncertain parentage:

Byron the Beautiful

Shadrich the Mad Mouse

The Three Sunderlands

Targon the Halfwild

All these guys get a dance, but when Harry asks? He is denied. It is only after some A+ dragging by Alayne, and begging by Harry that the latter gets his dance. Yet don't be fooled into thinking this is a win for Harrold:

"Should we ever wed, you'll have to send Saffron back to her father. I’ll be all the spice you’ll want."

He grinned. "I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?"

"You may not. It is promised to… another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone.

First off, we have this reminder of the betrothal, but there is a lack of certainty there — "should we wed" — and I would argue that's because...they ain't gonna. Remember all that wedding breakfast imagery, including an umcomfortably phallic lemon (wedding) cake, gift-giving and nod to a bridal cloak? Remember how that was followed by several dances with Jon stand-ins?

"[...] It is promised to… another."

Oh, I wonder who that could be? Honestly...GRRM has very clearly, for those who care to really look, stated someone else's claim here, and it ain't Harry's. In fact, it is the very same person who also evokes Valarr Targaryen in the Ashford pattern.

...it's our boi, Jon Snow.

“Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised.

“Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.” – AFFC, Alayne II

You "suppose", Myranda? Honey, I'm certain.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #cappy's thoughts #Alayne I Winds #i'm actually so chuffed with myself on the morgarth = more garth #thanks for this ask!#jonsa supremacy honestly

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random-imagines-blog · 3 years

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Flirt {Ygritte x Female!Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @starjane312 Wordcount: 2623 Summary: The new boy at camp brings all sorts of trouble.

The new boy was staring. Ever since Ygritte had returned to the camp, bringing this puppy of a man, no, a boy, back with her, he’d been giving her the heart eyes whenever she wasn’t looking. You couldn’t blame him, Ygritte was the most amazing person that you had ever met, and you thanked the old Gods every day that you had been blessed enough to marry her. Same-gender relationships were extremely rare and frowned upon, even for the Wildlings when there was the pressure to have babies, but your father, Mance, had allowed it. So though that was allowed, this boy staring at your wife was not. You poked at the fire with your stick to push some of the wood further in towards the fire, while glaring at the boy. You retraced the story in your head - he had been found, and unfortunately saved, and then brought here. As if he belonged here. Anyone could see that he most certainly didn’t. Except for Ygritte who treated him kindly - or at least her version of kind.

“Yer barely eating,” Ygritte said, pushing a bit more of the bear meat towards you. “Whats a matter which-ya?

“Guess I’m not hungry,” You muttered, finally going from the boy’s dark eyes to Ygritte’s blue gray which rivaled the color of water. “Don’t you worry about me. You go on and eat it. You’re skin n’ bone.”

“Just cause I ain’t got blubber doesn’t mean I’m a guppy,” Ygritte said, reaching out and put a hand on your sturdy thigh. It was true, you weren’t the skinniest of the bunch, you had some meat on your bones. To the point where many of the men could be seen looking at your stomach and licking their lips when food was scarce. If your father wasn’t who he was, you probably would have been killed already. That was just the way that things sometimes went up here. You did what you had to do to survive.

“If you don’t wanna be a guppy, you better eat up then,” You said, pushing the meat right back to her and got up onto your feet. “I’m gonna go have a word with the crow.”

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Ygritte said, taking the meat in her gloved hand and got up to follow you. You stopped and looked over your shoulder at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t ask for an audience,” You said.

“I know tha’,” She crossed her arms, still chewing on what was in her mouth. “Tha’s exactly why I’m comin’. I’m not missin’ out on whatever talk that you’re going to give him. Remember the last person we found and rescued? I think ‘is nose is still broken.”

“He grabbed yer arse, you think I was gonna let him get away with that?”

“This one didn’t,” Ygritte said, nodding at new boy. “Besides, not like he’s got anythin’ in that head of his except for the wall. That Jon Snow, he knows nothin’.”

“So I’m gonna make sure that he knows somethin, and it’s to stop makin those goo-goo eyes at my wife,” You said, stepping closer to where the man was. He noticed you coming and seemed to tense up. Good. You stared at him for a moment, and then gave a little growl. He might have a direwolf - but you were the alpha wolf around these parts. “You gonna scar up his pretty face?” Ygritte asked, nudging you. “Like you did with the others? How many would that be now - five? Ten?”

“I los’ count about a year ago. Guess it’s my own fault then. I just had to go and fall in love with the prettiest lass this side of the Wall,” You grinned. She laughed, but gave your chest a bit of a slap in that way that she did. She was a tough and fearless woman, with a pretty face to boot. Many of the men around here wanted her, and any from outside, like Jon Snow, probably would too. Bastards, all of em.

“Ahh, you big softie, you’re like a gutted pig. All tough on the outside and steamy and warm on the inner,” Ygritte said, which was about as romantic as things tended to get around here. “You gonna go threaten him on my behalf now, wife?”

“Don’t know if I need to now that I’ve already got his attention,” You said, turning your body towards Ygritte. “I’ll just show him what’s what instead of having ta tell him.”

The furs were always something that came between you but with the heavy cold of the everlasting winter, they were something that had to be gotten used to. Still, you brushed up close enough to her to bring her soft, dainty pink lips into a kiss right there, in front of everybody. There were some whoops. Some hollers. Some of the men never got tired of seeing two women kiss, the bloody perverts. You were putting on a bit of a show but it wasn’t for anyone’s amusement. It was a warning.

You had grabby hands, always had, always would, and then went right down to that ass beneath the long fabric of her coat and gave it an audible slap. It was loud enough, sharp enough to sound like a branch breaking. Ygritte never minded when you got a bit rough. Turned her on in fact, something you knew very well. Some might call you a bit possessive, but you considered it your duty to guard the lovely lass who had stolen your heart. Even if she would blacken the eye of anyone else who would dare to call her lovely.

“I love ya,” You said, forgetting about the reason why you were doing this in front of everyone. She had her hands on both of your cheeks, feeling how warm they were, slightly squishing them so that you made a silly face in the way she always found amusing. You laughed, though the inside of your cheeks squished against your teeth.

“And I love ya, y/n Ryder,” She said in return, and pressed another kiss on those puckered lips of yours, right in front of crow-boy and everyone else.

The Battle at Castle Black. The name was fitting, because it was a black night for many who were involved. You had your suspicions about Snow since the beginning, though you had hoped that you were wrong. There was something fishy about this Castle Black, and so you had gone with your wife to spy on it, find out how many people were defending it. It was so strange to you, these wardens of the wall, because your father had been one of them and turned his back on it. They had made him give a pledge not to have relationships. These people - they didn’t want you to be born. To have your life.

“I’m havin’ second thoughts abou’ this,” Ygritte said, turning to you. And you had to agree. You were angry at these people, these wardens, but you also didn’t want any more of your people to have to die. It felt like there was a trap afoot. Everyone was preparing for the attack, you had your swords, and your bow at your back, that sick feeling remaining in your stomach. You thought about going to talk to the others about your instincts, but the warg snapped out of his trance at that very second. The signal had been given. It was time to move in.

It was too late to turn back now, so you ran ahead with your wife, sticking together through this. You absolutely refused to be separated. Where she went, you went. Where you went, she went. You both went towards the gate, and using your bows so you could stay a far distance, started to shoot at them. One of your arrows went right through the eye of a man at the gate. And you couldn’t say that you felt bad. They had signed up for this. They didn’t have a wife and kids that you should feel bad for. They made their bed and now they were going to damn well lay in it.

Your wife got some good shots as well, but there was no time to stop and celebrate her accuracy. The battle kept going, and would keep going until there was a victor. It was time to move in, to close the distance.

And what did you see but that stupid crow fighting alongside of his ‘brethren’ rather than the rightful side of the Wildlings. “I told you that boy could not be trusted,” You growled to Ygritte. She looked angry too. She had been taken in by him, had formed a friendship with him during the travels to the wall. Your ‘I told you so’ didn’t help matters much but you felt like it needed to be said. And now, you were determined to take him down.

“Damn traitor ain’t even worth it,” Ygritte said, spitting onto the ground at what she had seen. She took hold of your hand, gave it a squeeze, then went back to preparing her bow to fire again. You took out your sword, getting ready for blade to blade combat against these so called men. You didn’t believe that they were men at all. Your father, Tormund, your friends among the wildlings, those were men. They did what they had to do to survive.

They went down. So did some of your own people. You noticed that some of the crows in their black jackets were running, trying to hide. That alone was a sign of victory. None of your people were trying to hide. None of your people were cowards. Slash, slash, clash of blades, sparks flying from how fast and how hard they hit each other. Stab, stab, cutting through flesh, entering it, becoming a butcher of fine human meat. Groans from the injured, you put them out of their misery.

And then the moment seemed to fall silent as you turned to see that Ygritte had her bow pointed right at Jon Snow, who stood above Styr’s body. You looked at the corpse on the ground, your heart beating fast, rage flooding through your veins. You would never forgive this. You had your blade out and you pointed it towards Jon as well. But this was more so Ygritte’s revenge. Let her kill the traitor, for it was her that he had blinded. You looked about you, refusing to be distracted by the confrontation beside you. You couldn’t let yourself be blinded as well.

You heard the arrow, and your instincts took over. You pushed Ygritte out of the way and caught the arrow yourself, it lodging into your side. It barely penetrated through the thickness of your skin, you could feel that. It was almost like a bug bite. But for Ygritte, calculating by how she had been standing, it might have been fatal. You turned to the boy who fired it, and you charged, pulling the arrow out of the fur and skin, taking it out in one piece, your blood turning the stone on the end a deep red color. Jon was shouting at you to stop. That Olly was just a boy. But Ygritte silenced him with a shouting of her own.

You took hold of the boy, who seemed startled that you had stopped his attack. You held the arrow that he had shot at your wife to the soft underside of his chin. “May you live this moment forever,” You cursed, then thrust the arrow upwards, right into his skull. At that, Jon roared at you. Something about how he was only a kid.

“A killer is a killer,” You said, marching back towards him. As you did, the war kept going on. The death of one didn’t matter much in this war of thousands. But then a weapon was released - a sort of scythe that started to cut through your people. It sent ice into your heart far more effectively than the cold had. You took Ygritte’s hand and she didn’t fight you. “We must go to the meeting spot,” You told her.

“Yeah,” She said, a little shaken at how near death she had gotten, but then her fearless expression came back onto her pale features. She turned her bow towards Jon, arrow still drawn, her fingers trembling to let it go. “If ye even think of followin’ us, traitor, I’ll kill ye where ye stand. I mean it. You deserve worse than that.”

“He sure does,” You grumbled, but then heard more screams of your people. “We gotta go, now,” You said. And you tugged her along, being quite fast despite the bit of fat that you had on your body which people used to make fun of you for. But you were also quite sturdy, able to push people out of the way to get out of Castle Black and make your return to the woods where your father was waiting for you. The Haunted Forest, where you would meet again with your brethren, your family, and speak of the defenses of the crows.

Your father was burning. Ygritte and some of the others had to hold you back, hand clamped over your mouth as you cursed the names of Baratheon, of Stark, of Davos, of everyone that was involved in your fathers death. You could feel the heat of the flames over your own body as you were told about it. Your father was strong until the end - he did not bow. He would never kneel. For you were free folk. It was a lesson that many people needed reminding of.

It had a huge effect on you, because as Mance’s daughter, you were the one that they looked at for advice now, for guidance. But also as a woman, they didn’t completely respect the advice that you gave. That didn’t matter. They could listen to you, go along with what had been your father’s plan, or they could die here. They could get killed by the white walkers. It didn’t matter much to you anymore. You were more in this for the fight than the results, which Ygritte saw in you right away. You had that inner fire that was needed to survive in the winter wasteland.

“I’m sorry,” Ygritte said as you took a walk to try to work off this angry energy. “It’s all my fault. I shoulda listened to ya. Ya knew right from the start that he couldn’t be trusted. That he could never be one of us.”

“A lot of people trusted him, not just you,” You said, stopping to turn to her. You could see, and feel, the guilt coming off of her in waves. And the anger. That unstoppable rage that came with redheads. You’d been on the other side of it before, so seeing it now pointed towards those who deserved it - you were sure that you were going to get your revenge. Maybe not tonight, nor tomorrow, but one day. You were going to make sure that your father was not forgotten. You were never going to bend the knee. You were going to be the fire that killed the traitor. And with your wife by your side, you knew, you could do anything.

#Ygritte #Ygritte oneshot #Ygritte x reader #Game of Thrones #Game of Thrones oneshot #Ygritte one shot #Game of Thrones one shot #x reader #oneshot #one shot #request

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wesavegotham · 3 years

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So don’t hate me but I’m kinda liking damian’s animated versions better than his comic one I really like his comic one but after all the shit happening where he has been nerfed nonstop getting beat by Thomas Wayne Batman, the teen titans red hood (although Jason attacked from behind like a bitch) and now flatline beating him. Not to mention Bruce not being a father and Damian now Being blamed for everything when they all have no room to talk. God I was satisfied when his old team died in future.

This is going to be a really long post, my apologies in advance.

I absolutely get where you’re coming from. I personally still like comic Damian more because I feel like there is more nuance and layers to him compared to the animated universe Damian, but that is simply the fault of the limited time they could spent on him in the movies.

Movie!Damian certainly wins more fights than comic!Damian and was never regressed in any way that is comparable to the shitshow that was Teen Titans (2016).

You’re adressing a problem I have with comic!Damian too right now, a problem that I’ve already talked about with some people here on tumblr in private. Which is that for all the talk about what Damian can do the comics have rarely shown all those skills Damian should have being used in the actual story in recent years and that is frustrating. I find Damian’s arrogance interesting as long as I feel like he can at least back it up in some way, but in recent time he comes off as just an idiot because he has done almost nothing but fail and lose and the writers still have him act like he’s the greatest. But it doesn’t feel like he can back up his confidence anymore. At all.

If I had to name a skill that differentiates Damian from the other Robins right now then I could only list his skill to hide from Batman and that is a skill he only has for plot convenience. We don’t see him do anything to cover his tracks, we are only told that he somehow did it. And I’m pretty sure that the second this skill stops being convenient for the story it will vanish once again. It will probably end like it did with Jon, where Damian somehow hid so well that Jon said they would never find him in Teen Titans, when they wanted an excuse for Jon to not get involved with his friend’s fall into darkness, but now that DC wanted them to interact again all of that is forgotten and Jon has no problems finding Damian.

Damian is not the most social Robin, nor the most intelligent one and considering how he seemed to lose against everything and everyone in recent years I can’t say with a straight face that he’s the best at fighting or the most skilled. And that IS a problem. Damian will never be known for his social skills or his detective skills, those niches are already taken by Dick and Tim, but in theory he should be a great fighter or a highly skilled person. Damian has sacrificed his entire life for training, both in the league of assassins and during his time with the batfamily. But if Damian sucks at fighting (as in: he loses a lot more than he wins) and his skills play no significant role in advancing the plot, then what is the point of his character? Great, he’s good at drawing and likes manga now, but how will that help with a fighting tournament? Or with solving the mystery behind the league of lazarus? A protagonist is usually supposed to be able to change the situation he is in, that is why he’s the protagonist and not someone else. So what makes Damian so unique that only he can solve the situation he finds himself in during Robin and not someone like Conner Hawke? Or what makes him unique in the batfamily? I hope Robin adresses that soon.

Of course now one could say “He still has an unique position as Bruce’s biological child”, but that also was completely irrelevant in recent years. For all the moments since the start of Rebirth that had batfam-fans complaining that Damian was favored by DC because of his status as the only biological child of Bruce, there were actually very few interactions between the two. Stuff like Bruce talking about Damian or saying that he loves him was primarily found in scenes in which Damian was not present. Or it came way too late, like in Teen Titans (and Bruce refusing to hit Damian in the face because he is his child sets such a low bar, I refuse to acknowledge that as a sign of love)

If you look at how Bruce actually treats Damian or describes him then there is little love there. He ignored his 13th birthday, did nothing when Damian left him after the events of Justice League: No Justice, it had no impact on the Batman books at all, Bruce only called Damian for missions like two times, once in City of Bane (which was just so shitty, as I already explained in a previous post) and a second time in Detective Comics #1017 (He sent Damian to find a missing kid in a snow storm, while he dealt with something else), refused to comfort him at Alfred’s wake and when Bruce reflects on what happened in Teen Titans he blames most of it on Damian’s personality, both in Detective Comics #1030 and in Robin #1, and both times there is nobody questioning Bruce’s asessment. He really doesn’t have anything nice to say about Damian and apparently we are not supposed to disagree with him. So in summary: Damian seems to have no skills that make him indispensable for the batfamily, Bruce seems to have a very low opinion of Damian’s character and now that they have decided to give us Bruce searching for Damian the only reason for that seems to be that Bruce suddenly feels responsible for his child, even though that should have already been the case when Damian seperated from him in 2018 or at least directly after the second Teen Titans annual.

Even the kinda nice things Bruce says about Damian in Robin #1 can be called into question if you think about them. He says he has no doubt that Damian can take care of himself...and then we see Damian getting his heart ripped out at the end of the very same issue. Of course we know that Damian’s story doesn’t end there, so I won’t judge this too harshly yet, but to me this didn’t come off as Damian being able to take care of himself.

And I get letting Damian lose at the start of the tournament to establish Flatline as a threat and to make it clear that this tournament is not a game. I also get that Damian’s fight against King Snake was supposed to make sure that we still think of Damian as competent even though he loses later on. But at least for me, winning against King Snake was not cool or badass enough to make up for the fact that Damian was easily killed, in front of everyone, by a literal nobody like Flatline. King Snake is an old, blind guy, that didn’t show up in any DC comic I read since I started in 2018 and that was apparently beaten by Tim in his solo comic when he was 14 back in the 90s. Sorry, but that just isn’t impressive enough for me, especially since I’ve seen Damian lose so much in recent years. It doesn’t establish Flatline as a badass, it just makes me think that Damian is not that great of a fighter and shouldn’t be in this tournament.

I have some more thoughts on the tournament that make me wish that the arc will start being less about winning the tournament itself and more about something like taking down the league of lazarus soon (mainly the fact that a fight about being the best fighter is useless if the big guns are not taking part, the fact that you can only win by killing your oponent, which should be a problem for Damian and how nothing we know about the rewards for winning, becoming part of the league of lazarus und apparently immortality, is desirable for Damian), but this answer is already too long.

I’m going to be honest an admit that I did not like the ending of Robin #1 at all and that I hope that Williamson will show Damian being competent really soon because I’m not here for another pointless arc about Damian learning humility. I want to see Damian win for once, you know, like other protagonist usually do at the end of an arc and if Damian can’t even win or tell us what’s going on with him from his point of view in a book about him then I’m probably going to feel very disappointed by this book.

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years

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The Direwolves’s Eye Colors

I always found fascinating that the Direwolves’s Eye Colors match the Children of the Forest’s Eye Colors:

"In a sense. Those you call the children of the forest have eyes as golden as the sun, but once in a great while one is born amongst them with eyes as red as blood, or green as the moss on a tree in the heart of the forest. By these signs do the gods mark those they have chosen to receive the gift. The chosen ones are not robust, and their quick years upon the earth are few, for every song must have its balance. But once inside the wood they linger long indeed. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. Greenseers."

—A Dance with Dragons - Bran III

Ghost - Red Eyes

"He must have crawled away from the others," Jon said.

"Or been driven away," their father said, looking at the sixth pup. His fur was white, where the rest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man who had died that morning. Bran thought it curious that this pup alone would have opened his eyes while the others were still blind.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran I

And suddenly Ghost was back, stalking softly between two weirwoods. White fur and red eyes, Jon realized, disquieted. Like the trees …

—A Game of Thrones - Jon VI

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Grey Wind - Golden Eyes

At first he did not notice her … but his wolf did. The great grey beast was lying near the fire, but when Catelyn entered he lifted his head, and his golden eyes met hers. The lords fell silent one by one, and Robb looked up at the sudden quiet and saw her. "Mother!" he said, his voice thick with emotion.

—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn VIII

Yet it was not the sword that made Ser Cleos Frey anxious; it was the beast. Grey Wind, her son had named him. A direwolf large as any elkhound, lean and smoke-dark, with eyes like molten gold.

—A Clash of Kings - Catelyn I

Lady - Golden Eyes

"Lady," he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansa had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

Sansa sat up. "Lady," she whispered. For a moment it was as if the direwolf was there in the room, looking at her with those golden eyes, sad and knowing.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

Nymeria - Golden Eyes

Nymeria nipped eagerly at her hand as Arya untied her. She had yellow eyes. When they caught the sunlight, they gleamed like two golden coins.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

"Septa Mordane," Jon told her. "I don't think she'd like Nymeria helping, either." The she-wolf regarded him silently with her dark golden eyes.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon II

Summer - Golden Eyes

Bran looked back down. His wolf fell silent, staring up at him through slitted yellow eyes.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran II

The wolf was looking at her. Its jaws were red and wet and its eyes glowed golden in the dark room. It was Bran's wolf, she realized. Of course it was.

—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn III

Summer stalked out in the echoing gloom, then stopped, lifted his head, and sniffed the chill dead air. He bared his teeth and crept backward, eyes glowing golden in the light of the maester's torch.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran VII

Meera moved in a wary circle, her net dangling loose in her left hand, the slender three-pronged frog spear poised in her right. Summer followed her with his golden eyes, turning, his tail held stiff and tall. Watching, watching . . .

—A Clash of Kings - Bran IV

Summer raised his head from Bran's lap, and gazed at the mudman with his dark golden eyes.

—A Clash of Kings - Bran IV

Shaggydog - Green Eyes

Shaggydog ran at his heels, spinning and snapping if the other wolves came too close. His fur had darkened until he was all black, and his eyes were green fire.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran IV

Unknown - Golden Eyes (But I bet It’s Lady)

The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. "Ygritte?" he whispered. "Forgive me. Please." But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark . .

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

Reasons why I think the unknown direwolf is Lady

The other candidate is Grey Wind, that was killed like Lady, but I think the following reasons are enough to conclude that the unknown direwolf is Lady.

The direwolf is grey like Lady.

The direwolf has golden eyes like Lady.

Jon sees the direwolf in the Crypts of Winterfell. Lady is buried in Winterfell’s lichyard.

Beneath the shadow of the First Keep was an ancient lichyard, its headstones spotted with pale lichen, where the old Kings of Winter had laid their faithful servants. It was there they buried Lady, while her brothers stalked between the graves like restless shadows. She had gone south, and only her bones had returned.

—A Game of Thrones - Bran VI

Jon confuses the direwolf with Ygritte. This reminds me when Jon confuses Melisandre with Ygritte in ADWD (both redheads). The two passages have similar wording with Jon feeling guilty for Ygritte’s death. I also believe that this line: “At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red.” foreshadows Sansa being the Grey Girl of Melisandre’s visions.

When he turned he saw Ygritte.

She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander’s Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon’s heart leapt into his mouth.

“Ygritte,” he said.

“Lord Snow.” The voice was Melisandre’s.

Surprise made him recoil from her. “Lady Melisandre.” He took a step backwards. “I mistook you for someone else.” At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VI

Later in ADWD Jon links Sansa and Lady with Ygritte:

He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII

The direwolf is described as ghastly. Ghastly means cadaveric. Lady had gone south, and only her bones had returned. Ghastly also sounds and writes very similar to Ghostly. After its death, Lady is described as a Shade, and Shade is a synonym of Ghost. More about it here. And we have another “ghostly & bloody direwolf” associated with Sansa:

“May the Father judge him justly,” murmured a septon. “The dwarf’s wife did the murder with him,” swore an archer in Lord Rowan’s livery. “Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws.”

—ASOS - Jaime VII

The direwolf is described spotted with blood. Lady’s fur got probably spotted with blood when Ned cut its throat. And I even saw a fan-art (for the graphic novel adaptation) where Ned beheaded Lady...

The direwolf’s eyes are described as shinning “sadly”. Lady is described with sad eyes.

Sansa sat up. "Lady," she whispered. For a moment it was as if the direwolf was there in the room, looking at her with those golden eyes, sad and knowing.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

So, if the unknown direwolf is indeed Lady, this creates a yet another Jon/Sansa parallel, Jon seeing Lady’s Shade while walking deeper (like descending) into the Crypts of Winterfell during a dream & Sansa, disguised as Alayne Stone, sensing a Ghost Wolf while descending from the Eyrie to the Gates of the Moon:

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

There you have it. Jon saw Lady’s Shade in the Crypts of Winterfell during a dream.

#sansa stark #jonsa #direwolves #children of the forest #asoiaf #EDITED

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amymel86 · 4 years

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S is for Sugar - part 2

I shared a snippet from my sugar daddy, older Jon fic yesterday and I got some really kind words of enthusiasm so here’s a bit more... (not sure if I’ll post any more after this until it’s finished)....

“Why am I here again?”

Sansa watches Ros straighten her designer suit jacket. “Because he liked you, darling.”

Ah, yes – this ‘he’ in question was her friend and potential business partner, Jon Snow – also known as the multi-millionaire business mogul who took previously failing businesses such as Night’s Watch Security and Wildling Outdoors and Camping Outlets and pretty much turned them on their heads to spin out some pretty profitable pennies.

Sansa shouldn’t be annoyed with Ros – she’s the only one of her previous set who stuck around for her following the disastrous break up with Harry after all, but she cannot help but feel a tad ambushed right now.

‘The Keep’ heralded itself as one of King’s Landing’s most exclusive dining establishments, but most folks would simply call it ‘fancy’. Harry used to bring her here to drink Champaign that cost 500 dragons a bottle and eat the finest steak you could find in the city. He’d also liked to show off the latest trinkets and dresses he’d fashioned her with. Now, without Harry, Sansa probably couldn’t even afford a tap water in this place.

“He liked me? What does that mean?” Sansa hisses under her breath. When she’d agreed that Ros could use her as a prototype profile for her new business, she hadn’t envisioned this. And sure – since her friend told her about the venture she had considered signing up for real once the app was live – the Gods know she needs the money. But it hadn’t been a done deal and now she’s here apparently because some walking wallet wants to buy her?

“Dear Jonathan is just needlessly concerned,” her friend replies, reaching over to fuss with Sansa’s hair. “He wants to talk to you and be sure that I’m not corrupting your sweet little innocent heart.” Her smile was fleeting and her tone changed. “Please, Sans, I need this investment and I just have to gain his confidence that this whole venture isn’t something more sinister than connecting consenting adults to exchange money for services.”

Alright. Sansa could do that, she supposes. Opening her handbag, she pulls out her compact to check her reflection, eyes hanging heavy with the shadow of her nightshift at the cafe.

“Jon!” Ros exclaims happily. Sansa took a breath before looking up to the man approaching their table. He was suited well in black, his hair dark to match, though greying at the temples, his salt and pepper stubble framed his jaw perfectly. He looked like he smelt good; something deep and musky, maybe a hint of spice. Sansa finds herself fidgeting in her seat as he neared, his dark gaze returning her curiosity. Both she and Ros stood and Sansa found his eyes on her even as he gave his friend a greeting hug.

“Alayne,” he says, sliding her hand into his larger, warmer one. His voice is deep and rich. A little squeeze, fingers pleasantly rough, watching her with intent before he says; “A pleasure to meet you.”

Her hand slips away from his as they sit and she almost needs to shake herself before realising what he’d called her. With a scrunched brow, Sansa looks to Ros.

“Oh,” she says, “this is my good friend, Sansa, actually. She agreed to let me use her photograph for my presentation and I’d given her an alias of sorts.”

“Sansa?” Jon says, trying her out on his tongue. He raises a brow. “A beautiful name.”

The restaurant felt hot. Sansa shifted in her seat, aware of how Jon Snow’s dark grey eyes followed her every movement. “Thank you,” she replied, wetting her lips.

Sitting back in his chair, Jon Snow regarded her, a whisper of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “So, you weren’t thinking of signing up to Ros’ pimping app?”

“Jon,” their mutual friend berated, rolling her eyes. She turns, looking to Sansa next, throwing her an imploring expression.

“I... well... I was thinking about it, yes.” Her cheeks felt as though they were flaming cherry-red. “I think it’s a decent idea, actually; providing women with a safe, secure platform to earn money that way. Sex workers deserve safety at the very least, don’t you think, Mr Snow?”

Under the table, Sansa felt Ros squeeze her knee in appreciation as they both watch for the business mogul’s answer.

Lips tilt upward on one side of Jon Snow’s pleasant looking mouth. “Of course,” he nods. “But what about you, specifically?” His eyes rake her up and down where she sits. “You could have the pick of any man you wanted, I’m sure. Why not just find yourself a wealthy one instead of this...” he pauses, glancing to Ros beside him, his next words coming out in a begrudging huff as though it pained him to say them, “sugar... daddy... business?”

Sansa’s mouth hangs open, affronted. “Because I work for my money!” Honestly, how dare he? “And I’m not the sort of girl who could just... pretend to be genuinely in love with someone just because they’re loaded! Wouldn’t it be better to be upfront about what it actually is?” Her mind went to Harry and no, she wouldn’t get back with him if he’d been honest about wanting a show-pony girlfriend but her heart wouldn’t have been crushed in the process at least.

The slate grey of Jon Snow’s eyes looks darker as he tilts his head, observing her like a puzzle to be pieced together. His teeth scrape along his bottom lip before he leans forward, ignoring the way Ros seems to be holding her breath beside them. Has Sansa completely messed up her potential business deal by letting her irritation get the better of her? Will her friend forgive her if she has?

“I’ve offended you,” he says. “I’m very sorry, Sansa. That was not my intention.”

His gaze is so earnest, she finds herself nodding, flustered even.

Jon’s lips part to speak again but his words are cut off by a loud buzzing on the table - his cell phone. Grey eyes fall to the device, his mouth closing and a frown cresting his expression. “Apologies, ladies, but I have to take this.”

Both she and Ros watch as Jon Snow goes to take his call outside before they turn to one another.

“He really likes you.”

Sansa finds herself flushing. She rolls her eyes to play it off. “What are we? Highschoolers?”

“No. But, it’s a good sign, right? I really need his investment for this to work.”

“You think he’ll throw thousands of dragons at you just because he’s interested in me?”

Her shoulder rises in a hopeful shrug before Jon arrives back at the table. He does not retake his seat.

“My apologies, but something’s come up and I’ll have to cut our lunch short,” he says, tucking his phone away into his inner jacket pocket as he speaks to Ros. “Which is...” his eyes find Sansa again with a gaze so heavy it makes her swallow, “...regretful.” There’s a beat of thick silence before it’s whisked away when he turns back to Ros “Email Satin your business plan and I’ll see what I can do.”

She brightened – almost to the point of bursting at that. “Thank you, Jon!” she says, trying to contain herself.

Jon Snow gives their friend a half smile before those grey eyes pierce her once more. “Before you consider signing up to this venture of Ros’s – “ he says, pulling out a business card and handing it to her, “- give me a call.”

Hesitant, Sansa takes the card, confused. Jon beckons the maître d.

“The ladies may order what they wish,” he informs them. “Put it on my tab.”

***

“Here you are, girl,” Sansa coos, offering the extra steak she’d ordered at The Keep. She was still a little pleasantly buzzed from the champagne her and Ros had to celebrate the seemingly successful meeting. Jon Snow’s tab may have received a hammering but she didn’t feel any guilt over it.

Besides, the lemon velvet cake she brought home was divine and her anger still stung at his insinuation that she – or any other woman – could just turn their hands to becoming a gold-digger. She couldn’t do that. The thought of being so fake tasted sour in her mouth. There had been hideous words thrown around between her and Harry regarding how much money he’d spent on her and what he’d expected from her in return. Sansa had thought she was in a loving relationship whereas Harry seemed to treat it was some kind of business arrangement. One transaction for another. It had made her feel cheap because she had believed what they had was real.

Sitting down on the kitchen floor beside her happy dog, Sansa leant back against the cupboard, legs outstretched and the cold of the tiles seeping into her jeans. Pulling out the business card from her pocket, she stares at it for a while, flipping it over and then back again. Letting out a little amused snort, Sansa takes another forkful of cake. What did he mean for her to get in touch with him? What for? She had an idea... she had several. All of them made her giggle a little. Those bubbles really went to her head.

Half knowing this was a bad idea and half not caring, Sansa fishes her phone from her other pocket and types a text message to that big shot business mogul who bought her this very fine cake and the steak her dog was now licking off her chops. She hiccups a little before pressing send. This is probably a bad idea.

Sansa: Why would you want me to call you?

The three little ellipses appear only a moment after and Sansa holds her breath while they dance on her screen.

Jon Snow: This is Sansa I take it?

Sansa: Yes

She stuffs another mouthful of cake in and chews, wiping buttercream from the side of her lips. Why are her nerves all fluttery?

Jon Snow: Because I would be interested if you were willing

Sansa’s thumb hovered over the screen as she read his message again and again before responding.

Sansa: Interested in purchasing my services if I signed up to Sugar-Sugar?

Jon Snow: Yes

Oh.

Sansa clapped her own hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling.

Sansa: What type of services?

Jon Snow: Whatever you’re comfortable with

What was she comfortable with? She hadn’t given this any serious thought. Typing, deleting and then typing again, Sansa bit her lip wondering if she should press send.

Sansa: Event escort (no sexual activity) – 1k dragons plus a new outfit. Sexual text/phone conversations – 500 dragons. Topless photos 1k dragons.

She pressed send, snorting with laughter and ruffling Lady’s soft, thick fur. Those prices are ridiculous. There’s no way that he’ll –

Jon Snow: Done.

Oh.

She was stunned. That’s more then she earns from her 2 jobs in a month! Her brows creased as she read his one word answer again.

Jon Snow: Name your price for exclusivity

Sansa: ??

Jon Snow: I’m not prepared to share you, Sansa.

Sansa blinked at her phone. Is Jon Snow her daddy now?

#jonsa #jon x sansa

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cellsshapedlikestars · 4 years

Note

"Breathe" for Jonsa?

ok FINE, yes, this could have been written for the last prompt I did which was basically “shove Jonsa into other media” but whatever. I’m doing it again for this prompt. I have no shame.

So, in honor of the Bachelorette finale last night (possibly the greatest season of the Bachelorette of all time), I give you, Jonsa Bachelor AU.

When Robb signs her up for The Bachelor, she nearly goes into an Arya-level rage blackout.

When she learns why he signed her up for The Bachelor, she actually does. She manages to throw a (poorly aimed) bagel at his head at Sunday breakfast, to Arya and Rickon's delight and her mother's horror, before she realizes what she's doing.

“If you love Jon Snow so much, why don't you apply to go on?” she screeches, she doesn't care that her voice is almost at a decibel only dogs can hear.

“I would, but The Bachelor is real regressive and they definitely don't allow men on and I don't know if Jon Snow even swings that way,” Robb says, hiding behind Jeyne (who gives him a glare and steps out of the way) and he has to add on, “and also I'm dating Jeyne, the love of my life.”

“Jon Snow might swing that way,” Arya says through a mouthful of bagel that Sansa thinks is actually the one she flung at Robb and why is Arya eating off the floor when they have a dozen more perfectly clean, non-floor bagels? “Do you remember those photos of him with that model guy? Satin what's-his-face?”

“None of this is helpful!” Sansa stomps her foot (no one can bring out her angry, petulant inner child quite like her siblings). “I am not going on that stupid show just because some football player Robb has a boner for is the Bachelor.”

“Stupid show?” Now it's Jeyne's turn to be offended, mouth open in a look of betrayal (and yes, fine, she and Jeyne are Bachelor buddies and she goes over Jeyne's apartment every Tuesday and they drink wine and watch the show and they even have a league going with some of their friends and coworkers but this is different).

In the end, it's Arya who convinces her to do it.

Her application had been approved (which is how she found out that Robb had signed her up in the first place) and she gets through the rounds of interviews, the whole time trying to remember Arya's points.

You broke up with Harry six months ago and haven't even tried to date again. It'll be like a vacation, you might get to travel to another country if you make it far enough. You can unwind from social media for a while. You might even be able to promote your Etsy store or something.

There's not a lot of time between the application approval and being whisked to a hotel and kept under lock and key, but there's enough for her to start a Google search on Jon Snow. Sure, she knows who he is, but she doesn't know him know him, you know? She knows he's on the Direwolves and she knows he's one of their star players, considering how much Robb (and everyone else in Winterfell) talks about him like he's some sort of god, here to bring the Direwolves back to their former glory.

But to be completely honest, Sansa has very little interest in football herself, never cared much for a bunch of dudes running around a field trying to kick a ball into a net. And they can't even use their hands? Seems dumb to her, their hands are right there.

She gets about thirty seconds into Googling Jon Snow before she starts to feel guilty, because once she's past his basic wiki page and his season stats, she starts to get to some stuff that she feels like she shouldn't be looking at, even if it's technically public knowledge. His season-ending injury, his very public downward spiral and drunken fight in a bar a few months after. His breakup with his ex, some punk singer named Ygritte who looks like she would stab you in the throat rather than talk to you and Sansa wonders how Jon is going to go from Miss Trash-a-Hotel-Room to the kind of women who end up on The Bachelor.

Women like Sansa.

Oh no, she's one of them now.

She closes the Google tab and tries not to think about Jon Snow at all.

.........

She has watched girl after girl get out of the limos and with each passing one, her anxiety only gets worse. There was a girl dressed like a wolf, a girl in a wedding gown, one that rode a unicycle, and even one that wore his jersey (and only his jersey and Sansa wonders if they're going to have to black box her, the jersey did not cover much).

And then the producer who is crouched on the floor of their limo is shooing her out the door and she swallows against her very dry throat and manages not to stumble on her exit. She smooths her dress down and doesn't know what to do with her hands as she walks up the drive to the huge mansion lit with a multitude of spotlights and the pavement is wet, did they hose it down? It definitely hadn't been raining earlier. Why is the walk so long? Why are there so many cameras? Why did she agree to do this?

To be completely honest, she's so caught up in not looking like an idiot that she hadn't even noticed the actual reason she's here until she's standing in front of him. She's seen pictures of Jon Snow before but she thinks they don't quite do him justice (or maybe it's that she's never seen one of him in a tux with his hair pulled back and his beard trimmed so short).

Ok, here's where she says something. She and her producer, Sam, had gone over her introduction line again and again. What was it? Something about being Northern, something about reminding him of home or some nonsense? They practiced this line, she's got it.

She opens her mouth but nothing comes out and she realizes in horror that her mind is absolutely blank. She is so aware of the cameras, the lights, this stranger she's standing in front of, the millions of people who will be watching this and judging her and laughing at what an idiot she is and-

“Hey,” his voice breaks her out of her thoughts and it's low and calm and he reaches out and grabs her shaking hands. “Breathe.”

She nods and lets out the breath she had been holding and he does an exaggerated deep inhale and exhale and she mirrors him and they do it a few more times until her head has cleared a bit and her hands are no longer threatening to vibrate off her body.

“Hi,” she says and tries to smile and she hates the way her voice wavers.

“Hi,” he says back and the corner of his mouth tilts up and he's still holding her hands and she thinks she should pull them away but she honestly doesn't mind.

“I'm nervous,” she breathes, like that isn't the most obvious thing on the planet.

“Yeah,” he huffs out a small laugh. “Me too.”

She has to remind herself that he's a famous football player and the Bachelor and he's probably not nervous at all and just trying to make her feel better, but he sounds so sincere.

His thumbs are rubbing the back of her hands and she doesn't think he even realizes he's doing it and neither of them are saying anything and she knows she should be saying her line but for the life of her she can't remember it and instead they're both just standing here in silence holding hands.

Then there's some producer gesturing wildly from behind one of the cameras and she realizes at the same time Jon does that this has gone on too long and so she says “guess I should go in?”

“Seems to be the popular thing to do,” he nods and she lets out what has to be the most embarrassing giggle she's ever produced. Why is she like this?

He finally lets go of her hands and she nods and steps back and she's a few steps away when he calls out “hey,” and she turns and he says “remember to breathe.”

Breathe. She can do that.

It isn't until she's inside and sitting on one of the uncomfortable couches with a glass of champagne in her hand that she realizes she never even told him her name.

So not only did she make an absolute fool out of herself, but he also has no idea what her name is and now she's definitely going to be one of those girls who gets sent home night one

It doesn't matter, she tries to tell herself, and she wonders why she feels so awful. Who cares if she gets sent home night one? Maybe they'll barely even show her and she can get out of this with little to no notice from the general population. And then she can go home and tell Robb and Arya well, I gave it a shot, didn't I? and she can go back to living her life and she never has to think about Jon Snow or his earnest grey eyes or his pretty mouth or his steady hands or his deep voice ever again.

She's going home tonight and she's totally fine with it.

Totally.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #jonsaff #prompt #yes i love the bachelor #don't @ me

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batfamscreaming · 3 years

Text

Winter in Kansas [80s AU] 2/2

previously: Bruce managed to sit on the bed for a full five minutes, hands held carefully in each other and breathing slowly, heart steadying, before he locked it in place.

And he left the room, footsteps quiet as he could make them on the carpet, and went back downstairs.

Clark wasn't there, but his parents were. Jon was in front of the TV drinking a cup of coffee while Martha hovered behind him, both talking about expected snow before they saw Bruce

“Hey honey, can I getcha something?” She asked.

Bruce’s mother had been dark-haired, like him, not blond and graying like Martha. It helped. Even if he'd been hoping to catch Jon.

“...I was wondering if I could ask some stuff outside?” he said softly.

Snitches get stitches. But these two knew. He was just entering the circle. Just confirming.

The two of them shared a look. Like they knew exactly what this was about.

Jon sighed and set his coffee down before getting it of his chair. “Sure, Bruce. Lemme just get my shoes on.”

Bruce nodded, waiting patiently and not making more sound than he absolutely had to for the few moments it took.

He saw the look. He knew what it meant, too.

At the very least, he wouldn't have to ease into this.

Once Jon had his dirty, mud-caked boots on and a thick jacket, he stepped outside and held the door open for Bruce to follow.

“So whaddya wanna ask about, son?”

Bruce followed, and stepped out into the field behind Jon.

He waited until they'd walked a little before speaking, hoping the crunch of his boots and the Kansas wind might hide his words from someone else.

“...how much can he hear?”

Jon turned to face Bruce and hesitated, his face hard to read.

“Pretty far last he told me. I don’t know the specifics.”

His voice was low too.

He gestured for Bruce to follow him. Lead him to one of the tractors, climbed on, and started it up, but then climbed right back down. He talked only loud enough for Bruce to hear over the constant rumble and shake of the machinery.

“More noise makes it harder for him as far as I know.”

The tractor was loud, but it didn't have the same bite as cars flying past on the freeway when trying to walk down the street. He could bear it.

“...so that's the only way to get privacy? Clutter the sound?”

“I wouldn’t think of it like ‘getting privacy’, Bruce. Clark isn’t trying to hear everything for the next mile. It’s just background noise for him. He tries not to pay attention to it. It’s only when he hears things that worry him that he pays attention, or his name.”

“... Think of it like… standin’ in the middle of a freeway. Your friend is right next to you talkin’, but not raising their voice. You can’t really make anything out unless you hear something like your name, or maybe ‘help’. Words you pay more attention to without even thinkin’ about it.”

...he listened, and nodded, but all the same--

All the same.

“...you called me a big name out east,” Bruce said. “When we met.”

“Yeah,” he shifted a little on the tractor to get more comfortable. “I know about Wayne Industries. Know what happened to your folks. Was all over the news.”

...he nodded, then. Okay. Jon had some context, then--

“I asked a girl out last month and three gossip rags picked it up,” he said. “...my friends tell me private stuff.”

And Clark could hear through walls.

Jon sighed, “Are you worried he’s gonna go around telling everyone everything?” He asked, sounding like he had this conversation before. “Before you knew about it, did he go around doing that?”

“He keeps everything he hears to himself.”

“That doesn't mean they trusted him with it,” he said. Looking down.

He wasn't… angry. And it didn't come out angry.

But he couldn't stop sounding tired.

Everyone, always listening in. Always hearing about him without him being the one to say it.

Even in Kansas. Jon knew. No chance to say things for himself.

Jon sighed, “No. You’re right.”

“... But it ain’t fair to blame Clark. He never asked for any of this. When it first started he used to lock himself in closets or hold his head underwater for… way longer than anyone was comfortable with. Don’t think he slept for at least a week.”

“I'm not trying to blame him,” Bruce said, and… he wasn't lying.

It almost surprised him. He wasn't trying to spare this man’s feelings.

“...I'm trying to find a work-around.”

“You know what the best work-around I’ve come up with?” Jon said, looking down at Bruce.

“Askin’ him when not to listen.”

Bruce looked up at him, expression confused.

Did Jon announce when he had private conversations?

Jon just shrugged down at him.

“Sometimes you just gotta take someone’s word.”

Okay. He would.

“That include taking his word he can't control it?”

Jon nodded, “I know you weren’t around to see it, but my boy went through hell just trying to deal with it. He’s a lot better, and I imagine he’ll keep getting better, but right now… that’s all you can really do. Take his word.”

The sharp parts of Bruce’s reply seemed to sail right over Jon’s head. Maybe the tractor’s noise hid the edges in his words. He didn't know.

If there wasn't any way to do it, though, then Bruce had… no other questions to be answered like this.

Or maybe Jon just didn’t have the energy in him to respond to it. He looked tired, like this song and dance had happened one too many times.

“That all?”

...he nodded. But still, he asked, “could I make a phone call?”

“Sure,” Jon said, and reached to turn off the tractor. But first--

“Bruce?”

Bruce looked up at him.

“... You could do my boy a whole lotta harm with the power you have. And while I can’t force you to do anything, I will ask that you keep this to yourself.”

And then he turned off the tractor.

“Mr. Kent,” he said, eyes and voice too steady for a sixteen year old. “I knew he was weird two months ago. I take care of my friends.”

He climbed off the tractor with him.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Jon said, and climbed off after him.

He lead him back inside and to the phone that hung on the kitchen wall.

Bruce thanked him quietly, and took the phone off the rack to dial.

He didn't have a tractor or anything else but the TV to hide his conversation, but still, he spoke softly into the receiver, enough that the Kents on the other side of the room wouldn't get more than a few snatches of conversation.

“...have the address already? ...okay. Thanks. Bye, Alfred.”

Hung up again.

Shuffled towards the couch.

“...I realized I forgot something, so Alfred’s going to send it in a few days,” he said, assuming that was fine but informing them out of politeness all the same.

“Okay.” Martha said, and did pass a look to Jon, who just gave her a nod.

They had a talk.

It was fine.

… There was still no sign of Clark.

Clark, he figured, was probably still in his room. He hadn't heard or seen anything to suggest otherwise.

So there was only one thing to do, in the handful of hours left before dinner.

He went to the guest room and dug through his bag, pulling out a clasped wooden box, folded with hinges, and headed to Clark’s bedroom door. And knocked.

It took a moment, but Clark did open his bedroom door.

The light was off and his eyes were a little puffy, like he’d been crying but stopped a short while ago.

He hesitated, but did step aside a little to let Bruce in.

“Hey.”

Bruce stepped in.

“So,” he said, skipping through pleasantries. “You are: stronger, faster, and have better hearing than me. And you can fly and reportedly burn people with your eyes.”

He sat on the floor without ceremony, and unhooked the box to let the game pieces all fall out, and reveal the pattern underneath.

“So, the next question is: do you know how to play chess?”

Clark flicked on the light out of habit whenever someone came inside.

“... Kinda?” He said, watching Bruce plop down on the rug. Like the question confused him.

Bruce nodded, starting to set up the chess board. “Kinda? You know how each piece moves?”

“Yeah.” He said, and sat down across from him.

“Cool. You fine if I take black?”

“Go ahead.” Clark shook his head.

Bruce took black and made the first move.

And they played chess.

Clark knew enough about chess to play, but he was by no means any sort of champion.

Eventually though, he did ask; “Are you mad at me?”

“Did you do anything I should be mad about?” Bruce asked, mostly focused on going easy on Clark and playing at his level.

He wondered if he could get this game to a draw.

“Be a freak.” He said bluntly.

“...” Bruce moved one of his pawns.

He has secrets bubbled up inside of him that he doesn't need to pour out. They aren't his to give. If he can find distaste in Clark overhearing secrets accidentally, he can't console himself in spilling them full-knowing.

So instead, he says, “I've met worse people.”

Clark just sighed, like what Bruce said didn’t mean anything.

But he didn’t say anything and continued to half-heartedly play chess. After each move he would pull his arms into himself, hugging them, like out of the two he was the most vulnerable even if it was anything but.

...Bruce watched. Saw Clark tugging his arms in on himself. Saw him curled between moves.

“...what are you so scared of?” he asked. Finally. When it was clear things weren't getting better.

“Everyone,” he said.

“... After the- the shooting, and whenever I’d do something that no real person should be able to do, Ma and Pa would sit me down and remind me that I needed to keep it to myself. That I had to be a ‘normal human teenager’, even if it was just an act, because what if someone told the wrong person. What if they came swooping down in helicopters to drag me out of the house and go seal me in some secret underground bunker somewhere to stab me with needles.”

“And I try. I try but it’s hard. I run too fast and hear too much. It’s like I’m constantly holding my breath and I can never breathe because if I did someone will hear and drag me away.”

….

Bruce nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “...that's…”

God.

He hadn't expected to hear that.

Hear that fear out of Clark’s mouth. The same raw level of fried nerves that knotted in his shoulders and let him wanting to scream, but unable to.

“...I…” God. Fuck. He's spent one day in Smallville, away from Tommy and the pap, and he's falling apart like Gotham was a mould desperately trying to help him hold his shape. “I'm scared of everyone, too.”

Clark was trying not to cry again. His eyes were glazed over. He wiped at them before anything could come out and looked over at Bruce.

“Why?” He asked, confused.

He didn’t know of all the things his friend was scared of.

To be fair to Clark, it was a very long list.

“Everyone in Gotham knows me,” he said, face the same carefully controlled expression he usually had when he was trying to explain something on their homework, or when speaking to the teachers and adults. “...and they know what I'm worth. I wasn't kidding about kidnappings. They've happened before.”

“...I bribed someone when I was ten. To stay with Alfred,” he continued. “...they wanted to take me away. There's a lot of people who are counting down until I'm eighteen and have access to the money. A lot of people want it.”

“...I just want my family back. And to not feel like every street I walk down’s going to have a mugger with a gun on it.”

...he looked up, and met Clark’s wet eyes with his own, darker, exhausted ones.

“...it sounds nice. To have a friend I don't have to worry about being shot.”

Clark finally managed a little bit of a smile.

Friend.

“... Sorry. I didn’t realize having so much money would be such a problem. But it makes a lot of sense. To me that whole… life… just, they show it on TV like it’s anything but a problem. Don’t have to worry about the crop doing well or the cows dyin’ to depend on whether you’re gonna have to cut corners and stuff.”

“I try ‘n do what I can with what I have to help out. Heavy lifting. Lookin’ for engine problems where Pa can’t see. That kinda stuff. I tried to convince them to just let me fly to Gotham too, to cut on bus faire, but they said no.”

He made his move and swallowed.

“I wanna help people, Bruce. That’s why I went to that house and ended up…”

Clark didn’t finish his sentence.

“But whenever I do I just get scolded. And I’m scared that someone will find out it’s me, and then that’d be the end of it.”

Bruce listens.

He's still watching Clark’s eyes, and his mouth, and he can't imagine this boy doing what they say he's done.

“Kent,” he says, with steel in his tone. “I would've given anything for someone to get in the way and burn the man who killed my family’s arms off.”

Clark smiled a little.

Validation.

…

“I don't regret it. At all. If it happened again I'd do the same thing. Even though I'm scared of being taken away. It'd be worth it, I think.”

Bruce picked up one of the chess pieces he'd captured and threw it at Clark’s head.

“Don't be stupid.”

It connected but Clark just let it.

“Huh?”

Bruce gave him a glare, though it wasn't a particularly intense one.

“You can't do it one time and get taken away so the next guy has a clear shot,” he said. “So next time, don't get caught.”

Geez.

He blinked, “So like… do it and run? They'll still see me though and tell the cops.”

“No, like don't do it so they know you're an alien,” Bruce said, like it was obvious. “As much as they deserve their arms burned off, it might get suspicious.”

Clark gave him a look. “As soon as they shoot me and I don't die they'll know something is messed up.”

“Then wear a mask,” he said, leaning forwards, an odd light in his eyes. “Be so alien they can't imagine you're who you really are.

Clark looked a mix of shocked and excited. “Like… a comic book hero?”

Bruce wasn't sure what the expression on his own face was. “Sure?”

… He made his move and didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“I used to pretend I was one when I was little. I think that’s why I learned to fly before, y’know, all the other stuff.”

What kid didn’t want to fly?

...Bruce looked down at the board and quietly moved his piece, too.

“...I lied to you before. About where I'm going when I'm eighteen.”

Clark looked up at him but definitely wasn’t mad.

“... You know where you wanna go?”

“...I wanna learn how to hunt people down,” he admitted, head low.

“... Like… a detective?”

That didn't seem bad or even a little out of character for Bruce.

…

“Maybe,” he said. He didn't really have a word for what he wanted.

But Clark used to pretend he was a comic book hero…?

Bruce dropped his gaze again.

“...I found a cave, when I was a kid,” he said. “I fell inside while walking. I used to pretend I lived inside it. A monster. Who would come out and hurt the people who deserved it.”

…

“It's stupid, now.”

He was stupid.

But he was still going to go.

Going to find someone dangerous and powerful, and say teach me how.

“That's not stupid.” Clark said, taking his turn.

“... Well, maybe the eating part. But wanting to track people down and make them pay isn't stupid. It's what we're doing now kinda. Looking into the Court of Owls.”

“...yeah,” Bruce said. Nodding. “...do you think we’ll find them?”

“... I’m not sure, honestly.” Clark admitted. “I feel like we’re finding something deeper but I dunno if it’s the Court of Owls.”

“Just gotta keep diggin’ to find out.”

...Bruce nodded.

He took a breath.

“....you're in check, by the way.”

“Oh.”

He made his move.

…

“You’re going easy on me.” He smirked.

“Yep,” Bruce said, moving a piece on the opposite side of the bored and giving Clark time to escape. “Don't feel bad. I've been playing Tommy for years. Only recently started to give him a run for his money.”

Clark huffed, “I don’t feel bad. I know you’re way out of my league.”

It took him a few seconds, but he made his move.

...he moved another piece.

“...does that bother you?”

‘Maybe a little,’ Clark thought.

But Bruce didn’t even like guys. He knew that after seeing what happened with Tommy.

“Nah,” he said instead with a smile. “I’m just glad you put up with the redneck from Kansas.”

Bruce huffed.

“What's that got to do with chess? You guys not play board games out here?”

Clark gave him a look.

“Do Kenny ‘n Pete look like they’d play chess?”

“Kenny ‘n Pete look like they play tic tac toe,” he said.

Clark let out a laugh that could have melted a room.

“Yeah, basically.”

…

“God. I’m sorry about them.”

Bruce gave him a confused look.

“...that they have big mouths?” He said. Because, yeah. He was sorry for that, too.

Or was it a flawed intimidation tactic? Hazing?

Not speaking to him for half the day?

“Yeah. Big mouths and I think they were just trying to throw you off. Maybe they were kinda mad I made friends back in Gotham and then brought them with me? They’ve been my friends for a long time. Probably know more about me than my parents in some cases.”

“They shouldn't have thrown you under the bus like that,” Bruce said, and that was all he could say about them without saying anything cruel.

He moved the chess piece.

“Yeah I’m-- I’m pretty pissed at them right now.” He sighed, watching the board.

“Really thought you’d hate me.”

“...” yet again, he found himself asking, “why?”

...Clark kept saying that. ‘I thought you'd hate me.’ Why was he so certain? Why…

… Clark shrugged.

“I dunno. I’m not a super interesting person or anything and then you throw the whole ‘alien’ thing into the mix. It’s just-- it seems easier to just… hate? I dunno.”

He made his move.

“I’m dumb.”

….yeah. Bruce nodded. “Yeah. You are, huh.”

He moved in kind.

“...I take care of my friends.”

Clark smiled.

“Me too.”

Made his move.

“So just let me know if you need to move something really heavy.” He joked.

Kinda.

Bruce nodded.

“I'll get you renovating the manor grounds in no time.”

“Check, by the way.”

He scoffed and watched it happen.

“That a job offer, Mr. Wayne?”

“...I can pay ya under the table, but it might damage my reputation,” he said.

He looked confused, “Why would that damage your reputation?”

Bruce looked up. “...it's black market activity,” he said. “Which is fine on a small scale, but if I was paying someone I’d have to report it.”

“Oh, I see what you mean.” He snorted.

…he managed a smile about it. “Yeah. I don't exist on a small scale.”

Clark didn’t say much to that, and made his move.

… Eventually their game would end and it would be time for dinner.

Bruce would go downstairs, and eat with the Kent family for dinner. And--

...and try to not feel strange. Or an outsider. But… it wasn't impossible, in a strange way.

...he knew Clark’s secret, too, now. And it made it easier to slide into a place like this.

Insular.

Maybe things were easier for now. They did certainly seem easier for Clark’s parents, and as they started to sit down around the dinner table Jon would ask; “Everythin’ good now, gentlemen?”

And Clark would look over at Bruce and then smile a little and nod.

Bruce nodded, “yessir,” and…

It was nice. Even with knowing Clark might hear anything.

Somehow, he still felt a little more free.

They had a nice dinner. Jon asked Bruce things occasionally, mostly about how Gotham was, how he liked it. He didn’t ask about parents or business. Just typical kid stuff like school and how it was going. They avoided talk of Clark’s incident completely.

Things around the Kent house were extremely ‘normal’ considering. It was like… bizarre interlaced with normal, and now that Bruce was in on it they didn’t need to worry.

After dinner Jon asked Clark to come help him get one of the tractors out from a mud hole it was stuck in, and if Bruce watched he would see Clark lift the front up and simply back the whole thing up.

...and Bruce would watch. From the porch, regular, hot tea in a mug. And he would watch Clark lift the tractor and say nothing.

His friend was an alien. And he wasn't sure, exactly, why he was taking it so well.

...when they came back in, they watched TV and got ready for the night. And… Bruce wondered, faintly, if Clark would hear if he had a nightmare tonight.

But he didn't.

Not tonight.

Clark could, but… Bruce had nightmares semi-frequently. It wasn’t polite to encroach on that or bring it up, so he didn’t.

Trust that he’ll give you privacy.

That morning the sun would rise and the day on the farm started even earlier. Jon was up and out of the house before the sun was up and when it did finally rise breakfast would start to be made.

Bacon and eggs with toast.

…

When Bruce came down Clark wouldn’t be there.

Bruce found he hadn't been given a time to wake up, and so he woke on his own--fatigued still, but only in the way of waking up in new places--with the clock saying an hour earlier than when he usually woke at school. It was still a dark, and he lay in bed, enjoying the ability to not have to get up immediately. He started his way downstairs when he began to smell food and an unusual amount of sun (in other words: any amount of sun) hit his windows.

“Good morning, Ms. Kent,” he began with, obviously. “...Clark sleep in?”

“No I think he’s up already.” Martha said. “He likes to sit on the roof when the sun comes up. He’ll come down soon now that you’re up.”

“How d’you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled dry,” he said, and… didn't have to question how Clark would know he was up.

“Okay.”

Martha nodded and cracked open the eggs for his breakfast. “You sleep okay?”

There was a small thud on the front steps before the door opened and Clark came inside wearing little more than pajama pants. It would be the first time Bruce had seen him in less than two layers.

It became obvious why.

He was… kind of jacked.

He didn’t look cold either despite the temperatures outside.

...what the fuck.

But Bruce kept his mouth shut. His heart sped a little, but slowed again a moment or two later.

“...morning.”

“Mornin’.” Clark mumbled, scratching his stomach and instantly rooting in the fridge.

Two cups.

“Y’want OJ or milk?”

For eggs?

“Orange juice,” Bruce says, watching him.

Clark shook up the OJ and poured Bruce a glass before handing it over to him, but he went for milk.

“Mind puttin’ some bread in for toast? ‘N get the butter out, please.” Martha said, and Clark did as he was asked without complaint.

Martha plated Bruce’s eggs and handed them over, then pulled the towel off the plate in the middle piled with bacon. “Help yerself.”

“Thanks,” he said, startled out of his observations for a moment, and--

He was watching two things, a little lost in them both, but at least they were all in this one place. Just--on one hand, caught in the mundanity, in a mother asking her son to pull out the toast and bread, and on the other hand, a small thing in the back of his mind which informed him that Clark’s stomach muscles twisted every time he moved his arm.

He waited until he was joined at the table to even think about eating.

Clark made some toast and put it on a plate for them to grab from and by the time he sat down too his eggs were finished.

Sunny side up.

He thanked his mom as he sat down and started to dig in.

“Just cover the bacon back up when you’re done, I’m gonna run out and help your daddy.” Martha said, taking a sip from her coffee before leaving the two eating on their own.

Bruce started to eat as Clark joined him, thanking Ms. Kent again, and…

…

“You always sleep without a top here?” he asked, losing his shit completely with a straight face.

Clark was busy shoving a strip of bacon in his mouth. “Uh-” He chewed and swallowed.

“Yeah. I like the sun on my skin when I get up.”

Oh. Okay. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, so he just--nodded and got his own piece or two of bacon.

And kept eating.

“...plans for today?”

Clark shrugged a little and put some ketchup on his eggs before breaking them up. “Dunno. Usually I hang out with Kenny ‘n Pete on my days off, but…” he glanced up at Bruce.

“Not feelin’ that anytime soon.”

…

“Thought about just… flyin’ around for awhile. Haven’t been able to do that in Gotham. But that’d leave you here unless you’re fine with coming.”

Bruce was ready to tell him he was fine with just reading a book for a while, but--

“...with coming along for flying?”

“Yeah. I’d carry you. Like, it’s fine if you’re scared though. It’s pretty weird. But figured it was impolite not to offer.” Clark said, pushing runny egg mess on his bread and eating it.

Bruce stared at him like he was crazy.

“Take me flying,” he said.

… Clark grinned with a mouthful of toast and a bit of ketchup on his lips. “O-kay.”

He was stupid and (buff, and Bruce wanted to lean over with a napkin and shove it on Clark’s lips to get rid of that dumb ketchup) absolutely intentionally being dense, because who didn’t want to fly, even if you had to be carried?

But instead, he said, “Shut up and eat faster,” and started shoveling his breakfast down in kind.

Clark grinned and did just that, shoveling his food down and eating toast and bacon before standing up and chugging his milk.

Shirtless.

He put the plate in the sink and wiped his mouth with his hand.

“Dress warm, it gets cold.”

Bruce felt something in his stomach flip, and he nodded, running back upstairs to tug on his winter boots and add on another layer and his heavy coat. Clark’s borrowed winter hat. His good gloves.

And he was ready.

Clark got dressed too and then met Bruce back downstairs a moment later. He opened the door out to the porch, stepped off the front step and… float there, spinning around as if in water to face Bruce with his hands in his pockets.

“Piggyback or in my arms?”

“Arms,” Bruce said, not wanting a piggyback--he was sixteen, not a kid, after all. It didn’t matter if Clark could carry him fine.

“Okay.”

Clark hovered close again and reached out, hand going around Bruce’s waist and pulling him close. He pressed himself against Bruce and locked his hands around the small of his back. Waited for Bruce to position his hands how he wanted.

… He might have been enjoying this a little too much.

“Ready?”

...somehow, Bruce didn’t realize he was going to be held like this in Clark’s arms. He knew they’d go around him, but--face to face, he guessed he hadn’t expected, and found his face close enough to smell Clark’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders securely.

Even through his heavy layers, he could feel Clark’s body, unusually warm against him.

Despite having just drunk orange juice, his mouth was dry. He told himself it was nerves.

“Ready.”

Clark smiled at him and then looked up.

And they started to rise, slow at first. Clark kept his grip firm and make sure Bruce didn’t slip, and soon they were over the roof of the the farmhouse. He started to fly away from it, legs angling as if to ‘push’ away from the farm.

Over the empty fields.

Once they were up in the air, Bruce… forgot.

He forgot about a lot of things. About how he was sort of uncomfortable being this close to anyone, or how he was fully clothed and Clark was half undressed in his PJs, or what was going on back home.

There was nothing under his feet. It was just-- a moment. A moment of disorientation, and realizing the air was cold and sharp with wind, and how empty the air was around him. That flying was just falling interrupted.

And Clark’s firm chest against his own was the only thing the world that felt stable at that moment.

He wanted to see the fields. The farmhouse. The long shadows, stretching over the yellow, frost-bitten fields.

But before that, before getting lost in wonder, staring-- he tightened his grip on Clark, and held himself close against him.

It was nice to be held so tightly by someone who wasn’t his mom or dad. He couldn’t even recall a time that had ever happened before. He kept people at an arm’s length for his own safety, and even when he did let them in there was still that fear of rejection. But last night Bruce had insisted and insisted that he wasn’t mad, that they were still friends, that it didn’t change anything.

When he got to the point he wanted and started to fly backwards gently, to really get in the whole view of the farm, he looked back down at Bruce with that award-winning smile.

“Whaddya think?”

“It’s big,” Bruce called back over the wind.

But he couldn’t… think of anything else to say about it. And maybe the new-day sun in his eyes said enough. The way it hit his ghost-pale face in the way it never could reach in Gotham.

There weren’t skyscrapers here. The long shadows ran only along the ground, far, far below them, cast by regular-sized objects, not buildings made by giants.

And the sky was in every direction he looked.

Big.

Blue.

Beauti--

Maybe looking back on this day when he was older would be when he said he started to love Bruce Wayne, but right now he still didn't quite realize it. Even as he looked down at the other boy rather than the scenery, watching how the light illuminated his pale skin and tired, sharp eyes. There was a fierceness to Bruce he had never seen from anyone else. Fierce and ironclad in everything he wanted to be.

“Yeah, it is.” Is all he said though, and would slowly continue to hover backwards, getting further away, then go a little left towards the trees that marked their property.

You could see the roads. The buildings in the distance. Cars driving along. Birds flew beside them a safe distance away.

And somehow Clark shined just like the sun, curls blowing in the wind and arms secure around Bruce's waist.

Bruce didn’t say much while they were up there, focusing on breathing in the cold wind and staring down at all the world below in a way he’d never really been able to before.

Not like this. Alone and secure, without airplane walls around him.

(Even if he wasn’t alone at all.)

...but Clark would still be able to hear his heart beat, strong and excited with the world below, pressed against his bare chest with just the coat between them.

...but Gothamite he might’ve been, Bruce still could only stand the cold against his face for so long before his cheeks started turning pink and windburnt.

Clark might not have been able to feel the cold like Bruce, but he could see it.

“Gonna start going down.” He warned, and did just that. A slow descent left and down…

… and they were back on the porch, feet touching down.

A little wobbly, Bruce pulled away once his feet touched the floor-- not because of anything bad, but because as soon as the wind wasn’t rushing him anymore, he realized he desperately had to wipe his nose, or it would drip out everywhere.

“Tissue,” he mumbled.

Clark was… a little hesitant to let go, but as soon as Bruce pulled away he let him go.

“... Oh! Yeah, c'mon.” Clark said, arm leading Bruce back inside.

There was a tissue box right by the door.

Bruce hid his nose in his face until he was able to get to the tissue box and snatch one out, blowing his nose.

“Danks,” he said.

“No problem. I forget that's a thing that happens.”

Clark's skin hadn't changed even a little.

Chalk that up to another power; resistance to cold.

Bruce noticed Clark’s immunity, but didn’t say anything about it really. He just focused on blowing his nose, and once he was done, rubbing his cheeks to warm them up again.

“...you never get sick or stuff, either?”

“Uh,” Clark began as he walked to the kitchen to make something warm for Bruce.

“Not since I was little. Mom says when I was a baby I struggled a lot. Like I couldn't breathe. But I don't really get cold anymore. I can't get burnt. Can stick my hand right in a fire and nothing. Can grab hot pans.”

“It's like--” he shrugged. “Invulnerability?”

...Bruce had honestly just been wondering if Clark was affected by bacteria at all, but… that was a lot more than he’d asked for.

“...not anything?”

It was nice to just… talk about it with someone. Sure his friends knew, but… they always asked him weird questions about it. Like if he looked at people naked.

“Well getting shot hurt, but other than something like that? Nope.” Clark put on some water for tea.

...Bruce didn’t question it, even if he did watch Clark a little longer, lingering.

...he realized now that he looked at Clark, that… he didn’t have any marks on his skin.

Not a mole. Not a freckle. Not a paper-thin scar.

And he’d been shot.

“...I can’t tell at all,” he said, maybe a little breathless, watching Clark’s back as he filled the water.

“Revolver hit me here--” he said, turning and pointing at his face. “Shotgun hit me here--” he pointed at his arm and chest.

“Gave me a black eye and broken nose and a lot of cuts. But they healed pretty fast. No scars or anything.” Clark shrugged. “Worst anyone's been able to do too me. I've fallen out of trees and moving cars and jumped out of two story windows and mostly been fine.”

He gave a sheepish smile.

Bruce found his arm going up to his neck, fist tight, and tried not to think about the hole that he’d seen punch through his mother.

He had scars on his arms right now. He had cuts healing right now. And Clark had jumped out of buildings and been shot and leapt out of moving cars--

“Why did you jump out of a moving car and a two story window??”

Clark laughed, “Well the car thing was I saw a dog and I was like… five. Really gave my folks gray hair for that one. And I jumped out of my bedroom window when they grounded me once and didn't quite have flying down yet. But I landed okay!” He gave Bruce a dumb grin and thumbs up.

Bruce buried his face in his hands.

Clark just laughed again and pulled the kettle off the stove to pour them both some tea.

“Genius alien from beyond the stars.” He joked.

“Really though I’m just…” he shrugged. “Just a kid on a farm who can’t get a date or pass his driving test, or… y’know.”

He didn’t know. But he nodded anyway.

“Yeah,” he said. And he wanted to say he was just normal, too.

But he could get a date, and wasn’t a farm kid, and could drive, just not legally.

…

“...wanna be lazy normal and just watch some TV?”

“Hell yeah.” Clark grinned and handed him his tea.

...the first day or two had been rough, but it grew easier with each passing day.

The Kents didn’t ask him about his family. They just… brought him to the table. Clark did alien things, and human things, and mostly reading-and-TV things.

They had a Christmas tree, and bit by bit presents appeared under it as the Christian Holiday grew closer. And, to Bruce’s relief, one such present arrived in the mail with a little bit of time to spare.

He’d been invited to Christmas parties before, but he’d never really celebrated with his family that he could remember--what he did remember was mixed up with Chanukah somewhat, with how young he’d been at the time. And though he was fairly sure the Kanes celebrated both, they only really invited him for things like Pesach and Sukkot.

So it was… the first time he’d really seen a family Christmas in person, rather than through every movie and pop culture magazine in the world.

...it was much quieter than he’d been led to believe, when the day finally did come, and he wondered, briefly, how the Kents had managed to tell Clark about a magical flying man in the sky when he was a child, or if they’d let him know Santa Claus was a fictional character to avoid accidental alien imprinting.

The day Christmas arrived there was a bit more of a set time to get up, but things still moved the same as they had been.

The sun rose and Jon tended to the cows, but then would be inside for the remainder of the day unlike his usual sparse appearances throughout. They made pancakes for breakfast and waited until everyone was sat around the table together to eat.

After breakfast was time for presents, a few under the tree for Clark, some for his parents, and…

Martha handed a little box to Bruce too.

...it was nice. It was still approximately like a regular day, which was a little strange, but it was nice. He ate the breakfast with his usual appreciation and followed to the livingroom around the tree once it was done, watching.

Bruce took the little box with a quiet ‘thank you,’ and smiled. Most of the gifts around the tree were for Clark, but that was fine.

...After a bit of confusion, Bruce had brought his presents down a day or two before. One for Jon. One for Martha.

Two for Clark--one of them being the little package that had arrived in the mail a few days earlier.

The first three presents Bruce had picked out while in Gotham, asked Alfred to purchase and wrap, and had brought them on the train himself on the way to Smallville.

He hoped they were fine.

...for Ms Kent, before knowing her name, he’d gotten a blue sapphire necklace with matching earrings. Not especially expensive, so it wouldn’t feel condescending or she couldn’t find things to wear them with. Not so cheap it looked bad coming from him.

For Jon, it’d been a little easier.

High quality black leather gloves with a matching sidebag.

… and for Clark, he’d… for the first present, he’d simply gotten him an autobiography of one of the muckrakers who’d lived through the mob wars of the 20s and 30s.

...it was the second present, in a much smaller box, that had Bruce anxious.

Jon and Martha kept insisting that he didn’t have to get them anything of course. They were very impressed by the gifts though, Jon giving a rather genuine smile and Martha leaning over to give him a hug in thanks.

Clark really liked the book too, and it actually took him a moment to put it down and pick up the second present that Bruce had given him.

“Another one?” He asked, a little surprised while pulling off the wrapping.

Bruce nodded and… looked down a little.

...inside the box, there were what looked to be hearing aids. Pale, thin, and mechanical.

“...they’re sound blockers,” he said softly. “...you said Gotham was too loud for you. And what you said about three miles, I figured…”

…

“You don’t have to use them.”

Clark clearly didn’t know what they were before Bruce said anything, but then the realization hit him.

“... Oh. Wow, Bruce.” He said, pulling them out. “That’s… really cool.”

“How do you put them on?” He asked, already trying.

Oh.

Bruce brightened a little, and shuffled closer, sliding until their knees knocked together.

“Here,” he said, taking the first one from Clark’s hand and brushing away his hair to get a good view of his ear.

He slid it in carefully, looping the hook that made it appear so much like a hearing aid over Clark’s ear.

“No one should question it, since it looks like a regular thing.”

Clark leaned in closer to help him and… maybe kinda stayed there a little longer just so he could be closer to Bruce while he helped put them in.

“This is really cool.” He said again, voice quiet.

“Finally gonna be able to sleep.” He laughed, a little joking and a little not.

Bruce smiled a little, glad Clark liked them so much. “They working?”

He went quiet and focused, a smile spreading over his face. “I can’t hear the cows.”

Martha looked like she might start crying.

Bruce grinned wide, something warm spreading through his chest.

“You like them?”

“Yeah. I really do.” Clark grinned.

…

He leaned over and pulled Bruce into a hug.

For a moment, Bruce was startled, freezing up in the sudden hold.

...then, he leaned into it, closing his eyes, and finding himself melting into the hold.

… Clark found he really didn’t want it to end, but… his parents were right there. So it had to. But while it lasted he held Bruce tight and whispered out another ‘thank you’ before pulling away.

“Wish you woulda had those when you were younger.” Martha smiled and Clark laughed.

“Yeah, really.”

Bruce smiled and edged away from Clark again, opening his own present quietly while the others talked.

...he felt a little better, now, knowing the gift was well received. That it wasn’t a bad idea.

...soon enough, though, January would come, and the hearing aids would be really put to the test as their return to Gotham grew closer.

Bruce’s gift was… less impressive, but…

“I know it ain’t your style, but…” Clark grinned.

It was a baseball cap.

A baseball cap with ‘SMALLVILLE’ embroidered across it.

“Least it’s somethin’ to remember us by.” Jon chuckled.

Bruce sighed deeply, eyes rolling up to the ceiling, and flipped the hat up to destroy his hair style by putting it on.

“You know what, Kent,” he said. “At least it’s not John Deere.”

Clark grinned and roped his arm around Bruce to give him a side-hug.

…

January would come eventually though, that was for sure. Clark would hug and kiss his parents goodbye and they would tell Bruce they loved having him, to come back any time. He was always welcome in their house.

Then it was a bus ride back to Gotham and Clark definitely packed his new hearing aids.

...he wasn’t sure why he was the one struggling to not get emotional once the Kents drove away, and he found himself in the bus seat, staring at the seat in front of him.

...but he was. For the first few minutes as the bus pulled out of the station, Bruce just… curled up in his seat and worked to keep his breathing steady.

And they headed back to Gotham.

…

He wouldn’t wear his ‘Smallville’ cap with him as they reached their destination late the next day, though. He’d return to the borrowed snow cap, and hide the ‘smallville’ one deep in his bag so that it couldn’t be seen.

...and as they returned to the dorms, he had a weight of dread in his chest that he wasn’t unused to, but…

It hadn’t been there the last two weeks.

And knowing Clark could hear his heartbeat just made him more anxious, now, about keeping secrets.

#aka the gay awakening #superbat #80s gay superbat #clark kent #bruce wayne

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a-secret-bolton-vampire · 3 years

Text

The Coming War for the North, Part 1: The Battle of Ice

The North is about to become a major storyline for The Winds of Winter, a lot of those pieces being set up in A Dance with Dragons. Certainly the biggest mystery is the pink letter that Jon received in his final chapter. That said, I think the real mystery is not who wrote the letter or the demands it makes, but rather what it says about Stannis. I’ll get to that in a bit, but first let’s dive into what will be part of the opening act of Winds; the much anticipated battle of ice. (Warning: this is going to be very long post, and this WILL have spoilers for all the books, including the TWOW sample chapters, and the show)

Stannis vs. Roose

The battle of ice was originally going to be part of the climax of A Dance with Dragons, but when the book became too long, George had to cut both it and the battle of fire in Meereen. This led to a sort of misconception that the pink letter has to be completely fake because it gives the result of the battle without showing the battle itself. While I think the pink letter is not entirely true, the point is that George put himself in an awkward position where he had to cut the battle to make room, but he couldn’t cut the pink letter, because it is the culmination of Jon’s entire arc in ADWD, and not having it end where it was intended would’ve probably caused a lot more problems in the long run.

That said, we have one entirely released sample chapter leading to it in TWOW, and a partially leaked chapter involving it as well, and together with the final chapters of ADWD, we have plenty of set up as well as some indication of what to expect. To start off, we need to go back to the beginning of ADWD, while Stannis is still at the Wall, and Ramsay is freeing Moat Cailin from the ironborn. The Boltons gather at Barrowton, where the wedding for Ramsay and “Arya Stark” (Jeyne Poole) is to take place. Meanwhile, Stannis wants to use the wildlings he captured in his battle beyond the Wall in ASOS to fight for him.

He has also gotten Arnolf Karstark to declare for him, but in reality this is a ruse concocted by Ramsay, who has the Karstarks secretly declare for Stannis while acting as sleeper agents to turn on him when the time comes. In fact they immediately begin to undermine him by suggesting he march on the Dreadfort, saying it is lightly garrisoned with only half a hundred people, and of those more than half are servants. This is a trap, however, since the Dreadfort can withstand such sieges for up to two years, and both the Boltons and Karstarks are counting on the snows and worsening weather to do Stannis in.

After Jon tells Stannis this, he then instead suggests he meet with the hill clans in the northern mountains, gain their trust, and attack Deepwood Motte, which is still held by Asha Greyjoy and her ironmen. Stannis goes with this instead of attacking the Dreadfort, and after winning the clansmen, successfully liberates Deepwood Motte. This action surprises both Roose and Ramsay, and to counter this, Roose decides to move the wedding to Winterfell, since it is a far stronger fortress that is much harder to siege, would add legitimacy to the Boltons claim over the North, and bait Stannis and once again hope on the snows to do him in.

Thus, they move to Winterfell, where Ramsay marries “Arya”, and they settle in. Stannis takes the bait and decides to march on Winterfell. At the beginning of the march, he has an army that is a near match to Roose’s; ~1,400 southron men who followed him from the south ~2,500 mountain clansmen ~1,100 northern soldiers consisting of Mormonts, Glovers, and survivors of the battle outside Winterfell in ACOK He also has 400 Umber green boys under the command of Crowfood, but they do not join Stannis’s main army In total, Stannis has around 5,400 men ready to fight against the Boltons.

Meanwhile, at Winterfell, Roose has a slightly larger army consisting of; ~4,000 Bolton men (mixed with a few survivors of the original 20,000 Northmen that marched with Robb south) 400 Umber men under the command of Whoresbane 300 Manderly men under the command of Lord Wyman An unknown amount of Dustins, Cerwyns, Tallharts, Hornwoods, and Lockes ~2,000 Frey men under the command of Ser Hosteen Frey And of course 456 Karstark men under the command of Arnolf, with Stannis, disguised as Stannis’s loyal troops while acting as a trojan horse for the Boltons. In total, Roose has around 7,156+ men loyal to him, although some of their loyalties are in doubt.

Originally, Stannis makes good time marching across the wolfswood towards Winterfell. However, he soon gets bogged down by heavy snowfall and blizzards, losing men and horses along the march, until it becomes so bad he is forced to stop at a crofter’s village, just three days outside Winterfell. It is not stated how many men Stannis lost on the march, but it’s not an insignificant amount, given what Justin Massey says in ADWD during Asha’s last chapter.

"The cold count last night reached eighty." He pulled a piece of gristle from his teeth and flicked it to the nearest dog. "If we march, we will die by the hundreds."

If they lost 80 men in a single night, after what is probably at least a week of staying at the village, they have probably lost a few hundred men. Not only are they stuck in snow and freezing to death, they are also starving. They are forced to resort to butchering their horses for meat and fishing out of the two frozen lakes on either side of the village, but they are now down to 62 horses, and the lakes are nearly fished clean. It gets so bad that a few people resort to cannibalism, for which Stannis has them burnt alive for punishment and to appease the followers of R’hllor.

Meanwhile, things aren’t great inside Winterfell either. The walls are warm, they have a giant castle to stay inside, and they have food with them, but they are running out, leaving the common men to eat porridge while the knights and lords eat salted ham. Not only that, but there are numerous murders inside the castle that leave people on edge. As Mance Rayder (disguised as the bard Abel, an anagram of Bael) and his spearwives (the washerwomen) are committing various murders, Hosteen Frey blames Wyman Manderly, and Manderly mocks him, leading to Hosteen nearly getting violent with him. It gets back enough that Roose, the man who is described as cold and calculating and feels nothing, shows a hint of fear.

Eventually, there are horns blown and drums beat outside the castle, leading people to believe Stannis has finally reached them. However, it is Crowfood and his green boys who have arrived, and the horns and drums increase the tension inside the castle, and Ramsay later is seen in a foul mood, which Theon attributes to his inability to sleep well given the noise.

This culminates in Little Walder’s murder, which Hosteen blames Wyman for as well. When Wyman insults Big Walder, Hosteen wounds and kills several men and severely wounds Lord Wyman in a blind rage, before Roose and Ramsay force him to stop. Seeing no other option, Roose decides to send Hosteen out with the Freys to attack Stannis, having just received a map of the crofter’s village from Maester Tybald, who is secretly relaying messages to Roose while staying with the Karstarks and Stannis.

As the Freys prepare to leave for battle, the spearwives and Theon help “Arya” escape, but things go very wrong when Jeyne squeals after seeing the spearwives kill a Bolton man, sending Bolton men down onto them. The spearwives fight off the Boltons, only to die, leaving Theon and Jeyne by themselves as crossbow bolts are flung at them. They have no choice but to jump off the battlements into the snow. We’ll get back to this in a bit. The stage is set for battle. Now it begins.

The battle of ice

Meanwhile, the Freys emerge to attack the Umbers outside, but they fall into snow covered pits they have dug, leading to a quick, initial victory for Stannis’s loyalists. Hosteen’s horse is killed, as well as his half-brother Aenys. This is a major blow to the Freys, since Hosteen is noted as not being the brightest, as well as angry and impulsive, while Aenys was the clever commander of the two. Thanks to Tycho Nestoris leaving Deepwood Motte to search for Stannis, he arrives at Winterfell, hoping he would have already taken it, and with the ironborn he ransomed from the Glovers to use as his guards, takes Theon and “Arya” to the crofter’s village where Stannis is positioned.

Now we get into the stuff we learned from the Theon I TWOW sample chapter that has been released. In it, Theon is hanging from chains in the watchtower, as Stannis makes a deal with the Iron Bank (signing in his own blood since the ink has frozen), and decides to send Justin Massey to Braavos with Tycho to hire 20,000 sellswords (and notably asking for archers) and ferry them to him from Eastwatch. He also has Justin bring “Arya” with him to drop off at Castle Black as a gift to Jon Snow. Then he gets the letter Jon sent to him that Tycho picked up from Deepwood Motte warning him of the Karstark betrayal, learns from Maester Tybald that Roose has a map of the village, and imprisons him, the Karstarks themselves, and their men (who are confined to the longhall).

He then interrogates Theon about the defenses at Winterfell, and says that Roose has blundered by letting his men out of the castle. Theon states that the Freys and Manderlys will come for him separately, and Ramsay will not be far behind, since he will want his bride and his Reek back. Despite Theon’s immense fear of Ramsay and warning Stannis of him, Stannis seems very confident and is not concerned about any of his enemies, and speaks of using the ground to his advantage. Then Asha arrives, and suggests to Stannis that instead of burning Theon to death for his crimes, he should execute him with Lightbringer at the weirwood islet on the lake to please the Northmen, as the ravens speak Theon’s name and shout “tree”... Hello, Bran. Hello, Bloodraven.

And thus concludes the set up. Stannis is ready for battle, to face the three threats that come to oppose him at the village, and he is confident. Things are starting to look up for Stannis. I do want to mention, however, that Stannis may not be entirely accurate in his assessment of Roose’s strategy. While Roose’s initial strategy was to sit in Winterfell and have Stannis succumb to the weather, that proved unable to be the case. However, things would be much worse if Manderly, Frey, and Ramsay were left inside the castle, given that Hosteen literally attacked Wyman with the intent to kill him. In this case, I actually think that Roose did not blunder here, and made the best possible move he could’ve to avoid a total collapse inside Winterfell.

Given Wyman’s intent on betraying Roose, I think that he actually might’ve been intentionally instigating conflict inside Winterfell to undermine him. Roose knows the Freys are hated, even by his own supporters, like Lady Barbrey Dustin. He is also highly skeptical of Wyman’s loyalties.

"If my lady believes Lord Manderly wants to betray us, Lord Bolton is the one to tell.” "You think Roose does not know? Silly boy. Watch him. Watch how he watches Manderly. No dish so much as touches Roose's lips until he sees Lord Wyman eat of it first. No cup of wine is sipped until he sees Manderly drink of the same cask. I think he would be pleased if the fat man attempted some betrayal. It would amuse him.”

This isn’t as big of a blunder that Stannis seems to think. Nobody likes the Freys, he is highly suspicious of the Manderlys, and both are huge liabilities inside Winterfell. Roose is having them go essentially as sacrifices, knowing they will most likely die against Stannis, but hoping they weaken him along the way. I do not see Roose opening the gates for either of them should they return. Not only does he remove the sources of tension inside the castle, and rids himself of a potential enemy in his midst, he also allows himself less mouths to feed. While they have more food than Stannis, they are running out, and this would allow their food stores to last a little while longer when there are less people to feed.

As for Ramsay coming out, while it is not said in ADWD and only mentioned by Theon in TWOW, this makes a lot of sense. For starters, Ramsay is not a very patient man, and he is undoubtedly impatient and angry now that both his Reek and his bride are gone. Instead of having him take his wrath out on those inside Winterfell, it’s better to send him out to take his anger out on Stannis. He needs Arya back if he is to have a secure hold on the North, and it would make sense to have him be out to ensure the Manderlys and Freys don’t fight each other.

Despite Roose sending the Freys and Manderlys out to die, I actually think that he doesn’t want Ramsay to die. Ramsay is a useful tool for Roose, because while he is politically shortsighted, he is actually quite clever and cunning, and any atrocities he commits he can land the blame directly onto him. Ramsay is not only smart and capable, but he is the perfect patsy for Roose. Ramsay may be impulsive and angry, but he is particularly clever and thinks quickly on his feet. When he took the Hornwood, he dressed and disguised himself as Reek, while having the real (original) Reek dress as him, allowing Ser Rodrik to kill Reek thinking it was Ramsay, and taking Ramsay thinking it was Reek as prisoner as a witness to Ramsay’s crimes.

He then played Theon like a fiddle, coming up with the scheme of killing the miller’s boys and disguising them as Bran and Rickon. Later, when Theon let him leave to gather men to fight for Theon, Ramsay returned with 600 men from the Dreadfort, and approached Ser Rodrik, who was commanding almost 2,000 men. And yet, despite being outnumber 3:1 against a host that was prepared for battle, Ramsay defeats them, scattering the host and losing only 20-30 men. Finally, he retook Moat Cailin by sending out Theon to parley with them and agree to a surrender. He is vicious, cruel, and utterly sadistic, but he’s not to be underestimated.

Regardless, I think Stannis will find much less intimidating foes in Ser Hosteen Frey and the Manderlys. Now I’m about to get into some very spoilery territory, from a fragment of a chapter that was leaked online. In 2014, George RR Martin did an interview on Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, which had a photo of him at his desk working over a chapter in TWOW. Some enormous dorks decided to zoom and enhance, and managed to make out some of what was on the screen. The short of it; the Freys have arrived, carrying the banners of King Tommen, and House Frey, with Crowfood Umber’s head impaled on what appears to be a weirwood spear as a mock banner to try to demoralize Stannis’s men.

Now, this doesn’t tell us a lot, other than Crowfood Umber is dead. This isn’t a big surprise, given that Stannis himself says that the Umbers won’t be able to hold back the Freys for long. However, this was foreshadowed earlier in ADWD.

"If it comes to swords, see where Hother's banner flies and put Mors on the other end of the line."The Giantslayer disagreed. "You would make His Grace look weak. I say, show our strength. Burn Last Hearth to the ground and ride to war with Crowfood's head mounted on a spear, as a lesson to the next lord who presumes to offer half his homage." "A fine plan if what you want is every hand in the north raised against you.”

Welp, Crowfood’s head is mounted on a spear, the North already hates the Freys... this seems pretty clear that the Freys are doomed. Regardless, it’s time to talk about what tactics Stannis might employ against the Freys. While the Freys have the advantage of being on horseback and well fed, Stannis means to use the ground to his advantage. We don’t actually know a lot about the geography of the village, other than there are two frozen lakes to either side of it, and forest all around them.

When he says turning the ground to his advantage, Stannis might be talking about using the frozen lakes. As southrons, the Freys are not going to be very familiar with the North, and freshly fallen snow on the ice is going to cause them to think it might be secure. In addition, by cutting holes in the ice, it would weaken it, and make it easier for them to break through the ice and freeze and/or drown to death. That said, that won’t be enough to defeat the Freys entirely on their own. Even someone as dumb as Ser Hosteen wouldn’t be stupid enough to put all his men on a lake and conveniently be killed in one fell swoop.

While Stannis could be setting up more hidden pits, I think that he could use a similar strategy the clansmen used on the ironborn at Deepwood Motte. There, some of the clansmen were disguised as bushes, allowing them to creep towards the ironborn mostly undetected. A similar kind of deception I feel is very likely as well. Stannis might even send some clansmen ahead outside the village to ambush the Freys and give him more time to set up at the village, slowing their march down.

Without knowing the full extent of the terrain at the village, it is difficult to say exactly what Stannis is planning to do, but I think he is primed to wipe out the Freys. They have a lot of disadvantages (not the brightest commander, are essentially sacrifices, unfamiliar with the North, hated by the North), and Stannis is very confident in his plans, even if they are as yet unsaid. Personally, I think the Freys are going to be demolished by Stannis, and it will be the height of his battlefield prowess. We should also note that Stannis has considered that the Karstark soldiers most likely did not know about Arnolf’s planned betrayal, and thus could be useful in the upcoming battle. Ramsay expects the Karstarks to be his big key to destroying Stannis, but he will need to change his tactics once he learns the truth about the Karstarks.

After the Freys come, we have the Manderlys. Given the Manderlys are willing to betray Roose, it will be interesting to see what they will do here. Wyman is working with Robett Glover and sends Davos to Skagos to retrieve Rickon. If they have Rickon, they will officially declare for Stannis. I don’t expect Davos to have retrieved Rickon yet (we are going to see Skagos and I don’t see us skipping over that important part so early), so I don’t think the Manderlys will 100% betray Roose and join Stannis. Even then, Stannis thinks the Manderlys killed Davos and does not like them. Instead, I think the Manderlys are going to pull a bit of a Roose.

In order to hedge their bets, not totally declaring for Stannis, and not totally keeping loyal to the Boltons, they will attack Stannis’s camp, but try to lose on purpose. Do the least amount of damage to both themselves and Stannis as possible. That way if they do eventually turn to Stannis’s side, they can point to that as a reason to try to trust them. However, I still think there could be a possibility that the Manderlys won’t do anything. For one, Lord Wyman is severely wounded (three of his four chins were cut), and too fat to sit a horse besides to lead his own men into battle. How much do his own men know about his plans? Is it like the Karstarks where only the noble commanders know the plan and the common soldiers are unaware? Or are the common soldiers in on the plan too? Regardless, only 300 Manderlys won’t do a lot of damage to Stannis.

The pink letter

No discussion of the battle of ice is complete without the pink letter. Yes, I purposefully didn’t touch upon what I think will happen with Ramsay, because it is tied to this.

Your false king is dead, bastard. He and all his host were smashed in seven days of battle. I have his magic sword. Tell his red whore. Your false king's friends are dead. Their heads upon the walls of Winterfell. Come see them, bastard. Your false king lied, and so did you. You told the world you burned the King-Beyond-the-Wall. Instead you sent him to Winterfell to steal my bride from me. I will have my bride back. If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell. I want my bride back. I want the false king's queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want his wildling princess. I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it. It was signed, Ramsay Bolton, Trueborn Lord of Winterfell.

The pink letter is a very hotly debated fandom topic, with many questioning its authorship, contents, and overall validity. It definitely did come as a shock to those who first read ADWD, when we have set up for a battle to come, and then not only do we not see the battle, but we then get a letter saying “yeah, Stannis is dead, I defeated him, I have proof of your lies, follow my demands or you will be next”. However, I already explained in the beginning why I think it is that way, and it has less to do with the letter being a full fraud than the editing issues for ADWD. That said, I think we are supposed to question some of it, but most of it is still likely to be true.

To get this out of the way, I 100% the letter was written by Ramsay. The letter is written exactly how I imagine an enraged Ramsay would write it, I don’t find the lack of skin or blood ink incriminating (not all the letters he sent have skin or blood attached to them), nor the smeared pink wax (possibly opened and closed back up poorly, or Ramsay was in a hurry). I’m going to go through each claim the letter makes and analyze it myself.

Stannis is dead: No. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised, but given we know Stannis will burn Shireen, that implies he survives, so I think this is the biggest lie in the letter, and probably the only real lie. The point of everything but this being a lie is that it is enough for Jon to be driven to break his vows and march south. You don’t need to fake everything else about the letter, just this, because if Stannis is dead, then Jon feels more obligation to march against Ramsay, not only because he wants to, but because he believes he is the only one who is doing so. So I rank this part as false.

Stannis’s host was defeated in seven days of battle: I think this holds up, actually. Now of course, people can’t fight for seven days straight with no rest, but what can happen is on and off fighting for seven days. How exactly we get to seven days I’m not entirely sure of, but think of it this way; Stannis is at the village, he expects three attacks from three enemies. We also have Crowfood Umber outside Winterfell. I don’t see Crowfood lasting longer than two days, so there you have two days of fighting. Then you get the Freys attack on the village, then the Manderlys, and then Ramsay’s, so now you have five days. It takes three days to march to the village from Winterfell, so perhaps if we include the two days of marching (the third would include battle) we make it up to seven. That is if you add the marching, however. It’s not unlikely that Stannis might send more eager men ahead to slow the Freys march, so I think it could easily lead to seven days of battle. Regardless, we don’t have any of the main battle before us to say for certain, so I’m not entirely confident on this. Nonetheless, I still categorize this as plausible.

Ramsay has Lightbringer: Unfortunately, I think he does have Lightbringer. More later but I’m going to say this is true.

Mance Rayder has been caught and sits in a cage in the open wearing the flayed skins of the spearwives: This is by far the most likely to be true part of the letter, honestly. Last we saw of the rescue mission it was going very badly. The Bolton men were openly fighting the spearwives, several of the spearwives were killed, and the Boltons were firing crossbow bolts at and rushing towards Theon and Jeyne when they jumped by themselves. The spearwives were disguised as washerwomen who joined Mance, disguised as the bard Abel. It doesn’t take long to figure out Abel’s association with the washerwomen, and for him to be taken to be tortured for information. All the surprising info, from Mance being alive, to information of Jon’s activities at the Wall and even the use of “black crows” (although I think this is still derogatory northern slang in general for the Night’s Watch), probably came from Mance. It sucks because Mance is one of my favourite characters, but I really think that he’s 100% in the cage. So this is most likely true.

Asking for Selyse, Shireen, Melisandre, Val, and Mance’s child: And threatening to march on the Wall. I think this is a very serious demand. Ramsay just defeated Stannis, now he wants to crush any possible remnant of Stannis and his allies remaining. Asking for the Night’s Watch to give them to him is probably a move that he might expect to yield fruitful results. If Jon Snow wanted to preserve the Night’s Watch and ensure they aren’t destroyed, he’d heed to Ramsay’s demands. However, Jon hates Ramsay, and instead decided to desert and retake Winterfell himself. On the other hand, Ramsay might kill Jon and the Night’s Watch anyways. They let the wildlings through the Wall with Stannis, and the North is not going to be happy about that. In order to satisfy his anger, his sadism, and the northern lords who hate the free folk, he might just kill Jon and the wildlings anyways. So I think this is plausible.

Asking for “Arya” and Reek: Arya is straightforward. Stannis sent Jeyne to the Wall as a gift to Jon, so of course Ramsay won’t find her. Asking for Reek is a different matter, and definitely notable because if Ramsay defeated and actually killed Stannis, wouldn’t he have gotten Theon back? I think this is hinting towards something happening during the battle we don’t expect or don’t really know much as of yet. As for how Ramsay thinks Jon has Theon, it might be that he tortured some people to learn that “Arya” was on her way to Castle Black, and since Theon is also gone, he too much be on his way to the Wall. Still, it is curious, and we don’t have the battle in front of us, so I’m gonna say this is undetermined.

Now you may notice that I talked an awful lot about Stannis having been defeated by Ramsay. That’s because I think that is the most likely outcome, sadly. I think Stannis gave a good fight, lasted longer than he by rights should’ve, before Ramsay defeated him. In all theories that include trying to explain how Stannis could win the battle and take Winterfell, I find there are an awful lot of assumptions that sometimes stretch believability or conveniently ignore some factors.

For instance, the trojan horse idea that Stannis dresses his own troops as Frey men, and uses Manderly and Karstark troops to bring Lightbringer as evidence of Stannis’s defeat, and that’s why Ramsay wrote what he wrote. That conveniently ignores that Roose doesn’t trust any of them and being a cunning perceptive person, would not let them back in, even if he believed Stannis was dead. Perhaps maybe Ramsay killed him and Ramsay let them in, but if that was the case, why did Ramsay not call himself Warden of the North? He would be warden after Roose dies, and Lord of the Dreadfort. A narcissist like him would take advantage of that.

Ultimately, the simplest explanation is that Stannis made some sort of tactical error, which would be upsetting but not unheard of, or got goaded into a trap by Ramsay. Without knowing what Stannis’s ultimate plan is at the village, it’s impossible to say how this could happen, same way as it’s impossible to truly say how Stannis defeats the Freys. Yes, he have spent all of ADWD leading to this battle, but narratively, it really does back the most sense for Stannis to lose.

For one, he’s very stubborn and on his march to Winterfell, he shows no signs of stopping, and even says they will free Winterfell or die in the attempt. He even admits to Justin Massey that he might be dead and that it might be true. I don’t think he has a long term plan to fake his death, but will ultimately be forced to. If the Manderlys want to still appear loyal to the Boltons while helping Stannis, they could easily rescue him and maybe fake his death for him. Everything we have in front of us is set up for Stannis to win. He’s lost before, he’s fighting against all odds, he’s a brilliant commander, he’s confident. This is the moment of the story where the hero finally pulls an upset and wins.

However, life is not a song, and a lot of people even in Stannis’s camp ignore the issues they are dealing with, convinced that they are about to win a major, major victory. If Stannis does lose, that doesn’t mean the war for the North is over, far from it. We have the Manderlys who are plotting in secret with the Glovers to betray the Boltons. We have the crannogmen who have yet to make a major appearance. And we have Rickon on Skagos, where men ride unicorns and are rumoured to be cannibals. While we see Stannis on campaign, we are setting up for the war of the North to continue subtly, with different players.

But the most convincing argument that Stannis loses has to do with the Starks. Stannis already offered to give Winterfell to Jon, and Jon refused. When Stannis is rumoured to be dead, Jon decides to take matters into his own hands and take Winterfell back. Winterfell isn’t the home of Stannis, it’s the home of Jon, Arya, Sansa, Rickon, and Bran. The Starks have been beat down repeatedly, but they are about to make a come back. They lost their home, and they will retake it. The Boltons are the ancient enemy of the Starks, and their rivalry will end as it began; with Stark vs. Bolton.

In part 2, I will talk about how the North will return to the Starks in TWOW and how things are going to get worse for a lot of people before they get better. I hope you enjoyed this essay, it was very fun to write!

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #stannis #jon snow #ramsay bolton #winterfell #the winds of winter #the winds of winter predictions #roose bolton

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