#cannot stop thinking about how he yells friends and enemies names alike

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Hello there! Can I request a Legolas x reader oneshot where the reader suffers from an injury, and Legolas being the best friend takes care of them? Fluff pleasee. Thankyou <3

Safe With Me

---

It happened during the Battle at Helms Deep. 

There was death, pain, anguish, and sorrow everywhere. No matter where you turned or where you looked, someone somewhere was suffering (either from the pain of death, grief, or fear). 

You've always been confident in your fighting skills; you know that you're good and can hold your own in a fight, but 'holding your own' paired with protecting others never seems to end well. 

Those fools thought it better to put weapons in the hands of children rather than the shield maidens who hide down below in the caverns, and though it does make sense that they would be the last line of defense, surely they could still spare some women instead of forcing the children to pick up their slack?

Even so, it's because of this decision that you're in your current state of injury. 

After the wall had been blown to bits and everyone began their retreat to the inner levels of Helms Deep, you tried to gather everyone you possibly could. 

Being as you're a rather skilled fighter, having trained from a very young age within the confines of Mirkwood, you managed to save a good deal of men and slay an excellent number of orcs, but there is a limit to your victories.

With each stroke of your short swords do orcs fall; every slash and stab reaching a mark that leaves the orc army with one less ally. Try as they might to overwhelm you, you're just too quick for them, so their blows remain useless for the most part (though you do get the occasional cuts and slices that leave you hissing in pain). 

You're in the midst of battling those nasty orcs 4 on 1 when it happens. Having been doing all you possibly could to keep the numbers off of the unskilled and dying men and young boys, you begin to focus more attention ahead than behind you, and one of those foul creatures manages to run up on you and finally get in a proper hit. 

The initial blow is easy for you to dodge, for you feel its' presence lingering behind you, but you quick duck prevents you from escaping the lower blow dealt to your right leg.

As soon as the blade makes contact with your calf you know you're done for. 

The deep slash causes your leg to give out from underneath you and you collapse to one knee, left crying out in shock and pain as your arms grow weak. 

Very vaguely do you hear someone yell your name, your sharp elf ears enhancing your hearing so that it may reach you, but you can't turn to look. 

In your downed state the enemy begins to overwhelm you, so you push your pain away and drop back as another blade comes swiping above your head, an action that would've taken your head with it had you not moved in time. 

You jab your sword up and impale the closest creature, muscles shaking and aching as it goes lax and slumps over towards you. 

Your energy wanes quickly, and the heavy, dead orc only further drains what little fight you have left in you. 

There is no time for you to reclaim your blade from the body of the dead monstrosity, so you're forced to release your beloved short sword and strategically roll away from the other oncoming attacks, and while it does prove to serve you well, you're now left injured and with only one of your weapons. 

The imbalance caused by losing one of your short swords is an alien feeling, for you always have both to fight with, and on rare occasions, neither. 

Another one of those dastardly abominations comes for you in when it sees your hasty retreat and weakening form and tries to stab you, but you role low to the ground and knock it off of its' feet, jabbing your remaining sword down into his belly as soon as he's at your level. 

Fighting so low to the ground, unable to stand is no easy task, and very quickly are you overtaken again. 

A large armored foot comes up and hits you right in the face, and you go down with it having been unable to react in time.

You fall back and land none too gently on your aching spine, and in mere moments is your left shoulder run through and pinned to the ground.

The unnatural feeling of the intruding weapon in your shoulder draws a pained cry from between your parted lips, and you find that you can no longer move that arm (if it were any bigger of a blade, you would've lost the arm altogether), so you rely on the other weaponed arm to stop the killing blow. 

With the last of your strength, you jab your sword upwards and stab it through the chest, relishing in the telling squelch and screech as metal and flesh alike are ripped to nothing, and then the wriggling creature stills and slumps heavily atop you. 

It's heavy and knocks the wind out of you completely, an unwelcome and suffocating feeling, and you'll later learn that this saves your life. 

Moments later, your world fades to black.

---

You were so sure that it was all over. That, while you tried your hardest, you failed. 

The last thing you remember was the horrible pain blooming from your shoulder and the blade protruding from your broken and battered body, and then the newly dead orc falling on top of you followed by complete and utter darkness. 

The bodies of man and orc alike littered the very ground you once stood on and the enemy was gaining more ground than you had to spare, so when you did finally wake up to see color again, you thought yourself to be dead just like all those around you. 

Only, you didn't quite anticipate that the Halls of Mandos would allow you to feel the pain and anguish of your past life. 

A quick look around tells you that you are, in fact, not actually in Valinor, for one of the very first sights you see is that of a dim wooden ceiling and your body laid out of a bed of mans creation. 

Pain is the first thing you feel once the anesthetic of unconsciousness wears off, and it's quite the pain alright. 

A quiet, agonized groan puffs past your chapped lips and your teeth clench together in tandem with your soft whimpers.  

You try to sit up, slowly raising your upper body from the bed, when a fresh pang of pain shoots through your shoulder and pins you back down to the bed. 

Instead of trying to get up this time, you just angle your head down and analyze your shoulder wound.

It's at this moment that you realize that your outer layer has been removed (probably cut away), and you're left with nothing but the gauze wrapping your shoulder and a covering for your modesty.  

When you look further down you see that your cut up calf has been treated much the same, and the only missing layer is that single leg of your trousers. 

Your vision suddenly goes blurry and you're forced to squeeze your eyes shut again, but this time when they open, there is another presence in your line of sight. 

It takes a few seconds for you to recognize the person hovering above you, but as soon as you do a small smile up turns the corners of your lips.

"Legolas..." Uttering that single name takes quite a bit of energy from your already bone dry reservoir, but you don't regret it for even a moment. 

Those sparkling pools of blue shine with relief when your whispered speech reaches his ears, and as soon as he's there does he disappear from your immediate vision. 

"I thought you were never going to awaken." He breathes, leaning over you once again with a damp towel in hand this time. "Tell me, how is the pain?" 

The towel is most likely to keep you from overheating, though you can't feel any sort of cold or hot like other mortal beings, and you appreciate it greatly. 

Your voice is barely a whisper when you reply, and it makes his elven heart throb in his chest with many emotions. "Painful?" Truthfully, it's a rather intense suffering that makes it hard for you to even think straight, but you don't wish to worry him any more than you already have. "Nothing that I cannot handle, I believe."

"That look in your eyes betrays a different story." He counters softly, reaching down to graze your too-warm cheek gently. "I will have to change your dressings soon. But I'm not so sure you will want to be awake for that." 

An alluded to promise of pain much worse than what you currently suffer, something you seldom wish to experience, though it's not like you can just pass out on command. 

"I will have one of the healers prepare for you a sleeping elixir, should you agree to have it." 

"What of the others? Surely I am not the worst of the wounded. You should conserve what you can." The words leave you even though you don't necessarily want to abide by them, but you don't take it back either. If you could prevent pain from anyone else, then you would. There's no guarantee that you'll react promisingly to it any ways. 

"There is plenty to go around. Do not worry yourself over others for the time being and allow me to help you." Those words don't make you feel any better.

If there is an abundance, then that means there haven't been enough wounded to use it (and not from a lack of injury either). 

A moment of silence washes between the two of you, and then in that same delicate whisper of yours do you ask, "How many...?" 

Hesitation rears its' ugly head and morphs his pleasant stare into a sorrowful, crestfallen frown, and it promises you nothing good. 

"Too many. But we must worry about that later when you have regained your strength and replenished your health. Please, rest." His places his hand over yours, touch as soft and careful as a feather, and he says no more on the matter. "I shall-" 

"Please, don't leave." You plea before you can engage your filter, curling your fingers around the warmth of his own, "I cannot handle the solitude right now." 

He hesitates once more but does not require further prompting, for he takes the seat next to your bedside and sits down. "Then I will stay right here with you." 

Your head tilts to the side to look over at him and the smallest of smiles brightens your pale face, "Thank you, Legolas. You've always done well by me." 

"For you, my friend, I would do anything. This is nothing." 

You're in good hands being left in his charge, and this thought lulls you into a pleasant, painless sleep. 

[darnloveablecharacters]

Prove Me Wrong, Part Twenty-Eight: Come Back

Series Summary:  Caithwistë, born from the only known pairing of an elf and a dwarf has spent most of her life in hiding. When an old friend, (or a certain meddling wizard) finds her in the woods, everything changes. Now, she will have the chance to prove the world wrong about her value. A ‘The Hobbit’ fanfiction based off of the following imagines from @imaginexhobbit: This One is the basis of the story, and This One and This One will be added in later. If you recognize it, it belongs to Professor Tolkien or Peter Jackson. But, as usual, the story and all of the mistakes are my own!

Prove Me Wrong - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: Finally! We are at the gates of Erebor and gah.... again I’m super exited we’ve made it to this point!!!

Warnings for this Chapter: angst, mild cursing because....  Dáin :)

Tagged: @imaginesreblogged @chevycastiel1967 @rices4me93 @tschrist1​ If you want to be added just let me know!

Caithwistë couldn’t help but fidget as she stood next to Mithrandir amongst the Elven army before the barricade of Erebor. She glanced at the faces of the Company that stood armed at the top, looking smug as if they had already won the battle.

“How can they feel so confident?” She asked as Bard held up the Arkenstone to prove the key to their bargain.

“Thorin is unwell, but not to be underestimated. He will have a plan.” Mithrandir muttered grimly.

Caithwistë frowned and glanced at the top when Kili’s voice rang out. “Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!”

“The King may have it, with our good will.” Bard said, tucking the Arkenstone back into his pocket.

“Is there any chance of this ending peacefully?” She asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

“No, My Dear. I do not believe so.” He said, patting her gently on the shoulder.

Caithwistë felt sick, but felt even worse when she heard Thorin’s voice. “Throw him from the rampart!”

She could see the commotion on the top, and blanched when Thorin pushed Bilbo to the edge. Without a second thought, she pushed forward through the army to reach them. “Thorin, no! Please stop!” She yelled.

It seemed as if he did not hear her as he continued to try and push Bilbo over the edge. “Cursed be the wizard that forced you on this company!”

“If you don’t like my burglar, then please don’t damage him. Return him to me.” Mithrandir said from behind Caithwistë. His voice boomed loud enough to echo through the valley and the Mountain. “You’re not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain are you Thorin, son of Thrain?”

Thorin froze at the sound of Mithrandir’s voice and looked up, finally releasing his grip on Bilbo. He dropped his gaze from Mithrandir to Caithwistë and his mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of her.

Caithwistë glanced at Mithrandir, who nodded encouragingly, before taking a tentative step toward the barricade. “Thorin.” She called out. “I understand you have no reason to trust us, but please believe me when I say that no one here wants to see any more death. They only ask for what was promised, then what you desire most will be returned and we can all go home.” She pleaded.

Thorin regarded her silently for a moment before his face contorted with rage. “Us!?” He screamed. “You wish to gain my trust and yet you stand beside my enemies?”

“These people are not your enemies!” Caithwistë argued.

“Enough!” Thorin yelled. “Never again will I have dealings with wizards, or Shire rats, or filthy half-breeds!”

“Are we resolved?” Bard asked, distracting Thorin from his ranting. “The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised.”

Caithwistë caught the sight of Bilbo running toward them out of the corner of her eye and turned to him opening her arms. He ran into her embrace and sighed. “I kept my promise.” He said and Caithwistë chuckled.

“In a way.” She said releasing her grip on him as the sounds of marching reached her ears. “But I fear we are not safe from danger.” She added, turning as a new army approached.

Bilbo gave her a worried glance and she tugged him toward Mithrandir. As they ran, the elven army changed their position to meet the oncoming host, led by a stout Dwarf riding an armored boar.

“Who is that?” Bilbo asked Mithrandir when they reached him. “He doesn’t look very happy.”

Mithrandir grimaced. “It is Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills. Thorin’s cousin.”

“Are they alike?” Bilbo asked, trying to keep up with the wizard’s long strides.

Mithrandir stopped and regarded them, looking exhausted. “I’ve always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two.” He said grimly before moving toward the front of the Elves.

Bilbo gave Caithwistë a shocked look and she could only shrug, taking off after Mithrandir again as Dáin began to address them. “Good morning! How are we all? I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider… Just sodding off?!”

Caithwistë smiled, liking the Dwarf-Lord immediately.

“Come now, Lord Dáin.” Mithrandir said, stepping forward.

“Gandalf the Grey.” Dáin acknowledged and Mithrandir gave him a polite bow. “Tell this rabble to leave, or I’ll water the ground with their blood.”

The men surrounding them began to murmur in fear and Caithwistë tensed. “There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves.” Mithrandir said, loud enough for them all to hear. “A legion of Orcs march on the Mountain. Stand your army down.”

“I will not stand down before any Elf. Not least this faithless woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I’ll split his pretty head open! See if he’s still smirking then.” Dáin said proudly.

Caithwistë could not stop the grin from spreading across her face at the insult to Thranduil.

“He’s clearly mad, like his cousin.” Thranduil quipped as the Dwarves cheered.

“You hear that, lads? We’re on! Let’s give these bastards a good hammering!” Dáin cried, raising his Warhammer. He turned his armored boar toward his army and rode down the ranks, readying them for the attack.

The Elves readied themselves as well and Caithwistë blanched.

“Is this really happening?” Bilbo asked with a quavering voice.

Caithwistë glanced at him and grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Stay with me.” She urged him and he nodded, looking as sick as she felt.

Suddenly, a deep rumbling sound reached her ears and she turned in the direction it was coming from. “No.” She whispered.

“Were-worms!” Mithrandir exclaimed.

As if he had summoned them by speaking their names, the were-worms began to burst out of the rocky hills as if they were nothing more than strips of dusty parchment. Behind them, came streams of Orcs in numbers that Caithwistë could hardly believe was possible.

“The Hordes of Hell are upon us! To battle! To battle, sons of Durin!” Dáin called out, leading his army to the front to meet the Orcs.

“The Elves, will they not fight?” Bilbo asked as they watched Dáin’s army set up a defensive position, barricading themselves with their shields. The Elven army had not moved, and Thranduil was watching the action with wide eyes.

Caithwistë drew her sword and took a step to join the dwarves but was pulled back harshly. “No Caithwistë.” Mithrandir said forcefully.

Caithwistë gave him an incredulous look. “What are you doing Mithrandir? They need help.”

“Yes, they do.” Mithrandir said, giving her a searching look. “They cannot win this battle on their own. If the Elves will not join them, they will need Thorin.”

Caithwistë shook out of his grip and fixed him with a glare. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You have to convince him. I believe you are the only one he may hear now.” Mithrandir pleaded.

“He relieved me of my contract, Mithrandir. He hates me, why do you think he would listen to me now?” Caithwistë demanded.

“He loves you, Caithwistë.” Mithrandir said impatiently. She scoffed and turned back to the incoming battle. “Hate cannot grow without love.” He added softly, stopping her in her tracks.

Caithwistë watched Dáin’s army stand at the ready as the Orcs approached them. Her eyes glistened, taking in the sight of how they had placed themselves.

They were protecting the Mountain.

They were protecting the Humans.

They were even protecting the Elves.

All these lives, they protected with no guarantee that any of them would come to their aid. “I cannot let them fall.” She said softly.

“Then you know what you must do. Go to him. Go to Thorin and make him see.” Mithrandir urged.

Bilbo grabbed her arm. “There is a rope on the left side there.” He said pointing. You can use that to get in, the Company won’t stop you I know it.”

Caithwistë nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “Be brave, Bilbo, and stay alive.”

“I believe that is the most useful advice I have ever been given.” Bilbo said with a smirk.

Caithwistë grinned and gave him one more hug before she took off toward the barricade. She found the rope that Bilbo had mentioned quickly and scrambled up and over the wall, hopping onto the platform.

“Miss Caithwistë, what are you doing here?” Bofur asked, running to her.

“I need to speak with Thorin, now.” She said breathlessly.

“I do not think that is wise, Lass.” Balin said, sharing an uncomfortable look with his brother.

Caithwistë shook her head. “This is not an option, it will only go faster if you help me find him.”

Balin frowned. “You don’t understand…”

“I will take you to him.” Dwalin said, interrupting his brother.

“Dwalin, no.” Balin pleaded, grabbing Dwalin’s arm. “Do not put her through this.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Dwalin asked gruffly. “He is lost and she may be the only way to bring him back.”

Balin opened his mouth to protest but sighed in defeat. “Go then.” He said waving them off.

She walked quietly with Dwalin through the halls of Erebor, trying to figure out what she could say. They stopped in front of a doorway and Dwalin regarded her. “He will be in there.” He said with a wave at the door.

Caithwistë nodded and moved to enter the throne room but Dwalin stopped her with a fierce grip on her arm. “Be careful Lass. He is not the Thorin you know. The dragon-sickness has taken hold of him and I fear that if it crosses his mind, he will kill you. I won’t be far away. If you need me, call and I will be there.”

Caithwistë smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you Dwalin, for always protecting me. I must do this though, for our King and for your people.”

“Our people.” He said gruffly with a tight squeeze to her arm. He released his grip and backed away to guard the door.

Caithwistë took a deep breath and entered the room. It was massive, walls made from the greenest stone and lined with streaks of gold. It would have been beautiful to her, if it weren’t for the sight before her.

In the center of the room sat a large throne, and Thorin lounged on it lazily watching Caithwistë approach. He was wearing thick fur lined robes and sported a golden crown on his head, reveling in his fortune.

“Come to share in my riches, half-breed?” He said with a smirk as she reached the steps that led up to the throne. “Your contract is void; you have no claim here.” He finished, sneering.

Caithwistë took another deep breath and addressed him calmly. “I have no interest in gold. I come on behalf of your kin, Thorin.”

He leaned back in the throne and regarded her with disinterest. “And what business does a treacherous liar like you have speaking on behalf of my people?”

Caithwistë felt anger surge within her, but she pushed it down hoping that he would see reason. “The business of one who cares for them, like Thorin Oakenshield used to.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed with disgust. “You care for no one, only yourself. I will no longer listen to your filthy lies.” He said with a wave.

Caithwistë bristled, struggling to control her anger. “You speak to me of not caring?” She spat. “Your own family will die today without your help and yet you sit here on your throne, hiding like a coward.”

Thorin stood, towing over her menacingly. “I am the coward? How many times did you have a chance to tell me the truth of your birth? How many times did you choose to lie instead? You call me a coward, but you are far less than that.”

Caithwistë clenched her fists and met his glare. “Yes, I lied. But look what happened when you did find out the truth. You cast me away, just as I expected. At least I was always there to fight for those I love. I would never abandon my family at the time they need me the most.” She said with disdain.

Thorin growled. “Do not dare speak to me of love. How can you speak of something that you have never felt?”

Caithwistë opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. This wasn’t him; he wasn’t himself. As she watched him, she saw only hate and greed in his eyes and nothing of the one she loved. She shook her head before glancing at him with sadness. “I love Thorin Oakenshield.” She said softly, taking a tentative step toward the throne. “I cannot take back what I have done to him. But I would do anything to make it right.” Thorin froze as she climbed the steps toward him. His eyes darting between hers as she slowly approached with her hands raised.

When she reached him, Thorin glanced down at her injured hand and let out a surprised breath. He gently reached out and took it, turning it over and studied her wrapped palm silently. After a few moments, Caithwistë stood on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek and whisper in his ear. “If there is anything left of you, please remember that the ones you love need you now more than they ever have. Come back to us.” With that she turned and retreated back down the steps. “I am going to fight by Dáin’s side. Join us when you are ready.”

When she reached the bottom, she turned to look at him one last time. For a moment, it seemed as if he had heard her, but his expression quickly turned back to rage, and he stormed toward her with a new ferocity. “Go then, traitor!” He yelled, unsheathing his sword and swinging it wildly. “You have no place in my presence. Go!”

Caithwistë grimaced at his outburst. “Whatever resentment you harbor toward me, do not let it define you.” She concluded and turned on her heel to exit the room.

She greeted Dwalin at the door and he let out a sigh of relief. “What did he say? Will he come?”

“I do not know.” She said honestly.

Dwalin hung his head in grief and shot a glance back to the room. “Come on then, Lass. I will lead you back.”

“No Dwalin.” She said, stopping him in his tracks. “Thorin is still in there, I know it. There is nothing more that I can say but perhaps you can still reach him.”

Dwalin crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. “And what will you do?”

“I think you already know.” Caithwistë said, giving him a wink.

“Aye, I know.” Dwalin said with a nod. He gripped her shoulder tightly and added, “You take care of yourself now. We will see you soon.”

“I’ll try to leave you a few Orcs.” Caithwistë said with a laugh. She turned then and ran back to the barricade.

“My Uncle, is he coming to fight?” Kili asked as she ran up the steps to the platform.

“No Kili, not yet at least.” Caithwistë informed him and Kili’s face fell. “Do not worry, there is still hope.” She said as she moved toward the rope.

“Wait, where are you going?” Fili demanded.

Caithwistë turned and simply raised an eyebrow at him. “There are not many places to go from here are there?” She asked with a giggle.

“I’m coming with you.” Kili said, picking up his sword.

The rest of the Company cheered and began to gather their weapons but Caithwistë would not allow it. “Stop!” She commanded and they froze. “You will not follow me into battle. Thorin is your King and you swore an oath to him. You cannot abandon him now.”

“But what about you? You swore an oath to him as well!” Kili demanded.

“Yes, but I am no longer honor bound to follow his command.” The Company began to grumble at this and Caithwistë sighed. “Look, I know Thorin will come back and when he does, he will need every single one of you at his side. Please, do not give up on him.” She pleaded.

The Company glanced at each other, all taking in her words slowly. Finally, Balin spoke. “We will wait for him, Lass. But please do not get yourself killed out there.”

Caithwistë smiled, “The one goal I have had for my whole life is to stay alive.” With that, she gave them a quick bow and scrambled down the rope. She reached the ground again and moved forward, to battle. She was armed with her bow, her father’s dagger, Emel-o Orcrist and a fierce hope that her faith in Thorin was not misplaced.

Authors note: It was legitimately heartbreaking for me to make Caithwistë miss the moment when the Elves lept over the dwarves to lead the battle. I feel like it would have meant a lot to her, but this conversation needed to happen even more. *sigh* Also, idk if it makes a difference but I was listening to the song Gold Dust Woman from the Dishonored 2 soundtrack when I wrote this. Set a pretty good tone for it, especially when she enters Erebor!

[thebluelemontree]

I can't seem to recall very well...but I believe that, after the beheading of her father, Sansa has been thinking more of the Hound than of Arya, her own sister who dissappeared at the same time. I mean, as her sister, it would be normal to be thinking more often about Arya's whereabouts and wellbeing but, as time goes on, she thinks less or not at all of her. But on the other hand she thinks a lot about Sandor, before and after the BoB.

Since the moment Sandor tells Sansa his secret, they don’t speak to each other again until the day Joffrey comes to get her out bed and show her the heads of her father and Septa Mordane.  Their relationship starts to develop more from that point forward, but its still in its budding stages.  So yes, she does think of him a lot; however, we have to remember she is alone and he’s her only tether to an authentic human interaction in the wake of her father’s beheading.  Sansa cannot be honest about her feelings and frustrations with her enemies.  Her maids are spies, and most of the people at court want nothing to do with a traitor’s daughter anyway.  She must wear her lady’s armor and pretend to be loyal and obedient.  Sandor is her outlet to an extent, and he helps her survive.  Then after he’s gone, she wishes she had his counsel before she goes to meet the Tyrells.  Sansa has no choice at that point but to navigate these decisions entirely on her own, but his memory has come to represent shrewd judgment in a gauntlet of liars with their own agendas.  Of course, there’s the whole other layer of Sansa’s sexual maturation process and the development of her feelings for him which become more relevant as she’s having more adult experiences and interactions.    

We also have to remember that Sansa thinks she already knows what happened to Arya before Ned’s execution:

“And at the end, near last, came the names Sansa had been dreading. Lady Catelyn Stark. Robb Stark. Brandon Stark, Rickon Stark, Arya Stark. Sansa stifled a gasp. Arya. They wanted Arya to present herself and swear an oath … it must mean her sister had fled on the galley, she must be safe at Winterfell by now … “ -- Sansa V, AGOT.

If they obviously do not have Arya and they want her to swear an oath, it has to mean she is alive and escaped on the ship her father had procured.  Sansa then imagines Arya made it to Winterfell.  Something she will think about later in Clash:

She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend. The septa had lost her head with the rest, for the crime of serving House Stark. Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears. Once in a while, Sansa even missed her sister. By now Arya was safe back in Winterfell, dancing and sewing, playing with Bran and baby Rickon, even riding through the winter town if she liked. Sansa was allowed to go riding too, but only in the bailey, and it got boring going round in a circle all day. -- Sansa II, ACOK

This is a belief that keeps Sansa going and gives her some solace after Ned’s execution.  Arya is okay.  She’s safe and home.  Admittedly, it’s a very Sansa-colored fantasy for Arya, but Sansa imagines her sister living a normal, idyllic life before everything went to hell.  And she’s free.  She can ride anywhere she wants to, unlike herself, but she’s heartened by that.  It’s also tinged with sorrow and regret for disobeying her father and not getting on that galley because it recalls the last thing Arya said to her before Sansa lashed out in anger and before she understood who the real bad guys are:

"Stop that weeping, child," Septa Mordane said sternly. "I am certain your lord father knows what is best for you."

"It won't be so bad, Sansa," Arya said. "We're going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure, and then we'll be with Bran and Robb again, and Old Nan and Hodor and the rest." She touched her on the arm.

"Hodor!" Sansa yelled. "You ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!" She wrenched away from her sister's hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her.  -- Sansa III, AGOT.

The aforementioned Clash passage also gives us a window into Sansa’s coping strategy.  The fact that Sansa cannot afford to crack and lose that self-control is one reason why she doesn’t allow herself to think of her family (and Jeyne Poole) as much as we might think she ought to.  It hurts too damn much.  Sansa was in a suicidal depression in the days immediately following Ned’s execution.  She was staying in bed, not eating, being plagued by nightmares and praying for dead, dreamless sleep.  That chapter of raw vulnerability is when the mask came off, and she told Joffrey she hated him to his face, told him she hoped Robb would bring her his head, and thought about murdering him herself.  As profound as that moment was for her own character arc's conclusion in AGOT (and Sandor seeing her mettle), it’s not going to be the way she endures, maintains her sanity, and eventually escapes.  

It will continue into her period as Alayne Stone; however, despite her efforts to suppress her Stark identity and the pain associated with it, Sansa cannot help it.  She does think of her loved ones often, including Arya, and many times it’s positive rather than negative before and after the BotBW.  What Sansa says and thinks she is doing and what she actually does can be two different things.  Remember she said “that day was done and so was Sansa” in regards to Sandor and the unkiss... then proceeded to think about Sandor a few more times in the same chapter.  Rest assured with your concerns.  She thinks of Arya and all the people she cares about even though she says she shouldn’t or won’t allow herself to do that.  But let me lay out all the positives before discussing the negatives.  Lots of quotes under the cut.

He'd owned a sword named Lion's Tooth once, Sansa remembered. Arya had taken it from him and thrown it in a river. I hope Stannis does the same with this one. "It is beautifully wrought, Your Grace."  -- Sansa V, ACOK

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. -- Sansa V, ACOK

Margaery's kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything. Her ladies welcomed Sansa as well. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. Lady Leonette gave her lessons on the high harp, and Lady Janna shared all the choice gossip. Merry Crane always had an amusing story, and little Lady Bulwer reminded her of Arya, though not so fierce. -- Sansa II, ASOS.

In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya. -- Sansa II, ASOS.  

That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so . . . She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now. -- Sansa IV, ASOS. [Sansa’s inclusion of Arya here suggests she assumes she must have suffered the same fate as Bran and Rickon]

She had dreamt that she was little, still sharing a bedchamber with her sister Arya. But it was her maid she heard tossing in sleep, not her sister, and this was not Winterfell, but the Eyrie. -- Sansa VII, ASOS.

She had last seen snow the day she'd left Winterfell. That was a lighter fall than this, she remembered. Robb had melting flakes in his hair when he hugged me, and the snowball Arya tried to make kept coming apart in her hands. It hurt to remember how happy she had been that morning. -- Sansa VII, ASOS.

She remembered a summer's snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They'd each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she'd had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she'd slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn't, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing. -- Sansa VII, ASOS.

They made a race of it, dashing headlong across the yard and past the stables, skirts flapping, whilst knights and serving men alike looked on, and pigs and chickens scattered before them. It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forgot who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. -- Alayne I, TWOW.

I think there is an overall progression of Sansa reconnecting with Arya through her childhood memories of her and appreciating the sisterhood they had before septas, queens, and princes came into their lives.  The sisterhood she’s finding again in the Vale with Myranda and Mya.  The kind of sisterhood she hoped for from the fair-weather Tyrells, who did not reciprocate:

Sister. Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world's graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went. How can I let my sister marry Joffrey? she thought, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. -- Sansa II, ASOS.

A while back, I once had some trouble with this passage.  It felt like such a low and completely unnecessary blow for George to write this line for Sansa to think about Arya.  I suggest you look at my ask to @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly dealing with this specific quote.  We have to remember sometimes that while characters can be on positive change arcs, sometimes they have bumps in the road and mini-regressions.  Change is hard, ya know?  

And what will they do to me? Sansa found herself thinking of Lady again. She could smell out falsehood, she could, but she was dead, Father had killed her, on account of Arya. She drew the knife and held it before her with both hands. --  Sansa II, ACOK.

Yeah, that’s not a good look either.  Sansa’s meeting Dontos for the first time, she’s freaking out that this might be a trap or she might get caught.  She desperately wants her wolf by her side, but damn it, because of Ned and Arya’s actions, she’s now left high and dry to sort this out alone.  Remember she thinks Arya made it out and escaped to Winterfell.  She was legitimately grateful for that, but Sansa is also under stress here and sometimes people, because they are people, unfairly blame others when they are actually mad at themselves.  If Sansa had got on the galley back then, she wouldn’t have to take her chances with a drunken slob.  Lady’s death and who is responsible for that has nothing to do with the situation at hand.    

These don’t point any actual malice toward Arya, but all too common human frailty.  The fact that she believes Arya is alive and well, from her perspective, affords her that same latitude to make a few uncharitable digs at her sibling, as siblings sometimes do.  No one wants to admit they had poor judgment or fucked up in hindsight.  Especially having to admit your little sister was right about your ex-boyfriend from day one and she, the oh-so-much-wiser-and-mature big sister never saw the red flags.  But hey, Sansa got over that.  Later in Clash, when she thinks about that day on the Trident, she remembers Arya throwing Joffrey’s dumb, pretentious sword in the river.  That becomes her prevailing memory.  Not the resulting death of Lady.  Suddenly Arya’s behavior isn’t wild and unruly anymore, but an appropriate response to a true villain.  And through her experience with the Tyrells, she learns that sisterhood is about who has your back, not the pretty packaging.  Then when Sansa believes herself the only remaining Stark, save Jon to an extent, her thoughts are not critical of Arya at all.  It's bittersweet for Sansa to recall her family, but an emphasis is on the sweet.  She draws strength from their memory.  That TWOW quote is one of my favorites and IMO makes a strong statement about the future when the sisters reunite.  I don’t think you need to worry.          

[writingfireandblood-blog]

Hands Of Gold Part 2

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Reader

Request:  wow, I love Hands Of Gold, can you make a second part please ?

A/N: So this takes place during both 6x07. I’m splitting the scenes up so I can give each of them the development they deserve, I know that there’s not much reader Jaime interaction in this, because it’s mainly just setting up the next part, but part three is going to have a lot more in it.

Wordcount: 1556

Part One

You arrived home to no fanfare, there was no one there to embrace you after all the time you had spent away. It was a long ride from Kingslanding to Riverrun. The first time you had traveled the distance most of it had been done in a carriage with your two siblings it tow, it seemed different on horseback somehow. Still the feeling of fear was ever your companion though admittedly for a different reason, once it had simply been the Kingslayer on your mind, now Jaime was the one certainty that you could count on. Edmure and the Blackfish had not seen you in such a long time who knew what they would think of you. You had to remind yourself that you belonged to House Tully no longer, you were a lion now not a fish. 

You stayed quiet as Jaime and Bronn spoke, far too distracted by the sight of such a familiar castle in front of you. When you married Jaime you weren't sure you would ever see the red bricked castle or the river again, and yet here they were as if you'd never left. It took everything you had not to ride straight up to the castle there and then, but you didn't. 

Instead you stayed by your husband's side knowing that he had to make an important impression of the Fray forces that were currently doing such a poor job of laying siege to the castle, and a disobedient wife who belonged to the enemy family would probably not have helped.

Still it was an odd experience seeing the fields you used to play in as a child, the ones you would laugh in as a child as you giggled and dipped your toes into the river, now dug with trenches, home to pigs and Fray men alike, though it was hard for you to see the difference. They may have been Lannister allies but that didn’t mean you had to like them. The Fray’s had imprisoned your brother and murdered your sister and your nephew, they were no friends of yours.

There was mud everywhere in the camp, you couldn’t help but notice as the three of you moved through the camp. You were grateful for the riding boots you had thought to wear but the hem of your skirts were now ruined. It was a shame, you were starting to like this dress, you could hear your husband in your mind telling you that you had the money to buy dresses three times over if that was what you wanted. Even then it was easier to keep your eyes on the mud rather than see the the same shocked look on a man's face over and over again at the sight of the Lannister lion.

When you reached the other side of camp you attention was drawn by two soldiers who were stood on what looked like makeshift gallows.

“Come out and face us Blackfish!” they cried. “We have Lord Edmure. Yeild this castle or we’ll hang him!”

You immediately felt your whole body tense, as well as Jaime’s gaze on you. That was your older brother, the one who used to play with you and read to you as you fell asleep stood up there with a rope around his neck. You felt your husband reach out, and place his hand to your middle, in between you and the castle, half as act of comfort, half to prevent you doing something stupid.

“This is your last warning!” They yelled as your uncle became clear on the ramparts. Much to the confusion of the men, your Uncle said nothing. Then in a move you didn’t expect, they pulled the rope from around Edmure’s neck and replaced it with a knife. 

“You think I won’t do it old man,” the one threatened. “I sliced your niece’s throat from ear to ear, and where were you, running and hiding like a fucking coward!”

It was those words that had you moving passed Jaime up to where the soldiers were standing though they payed little attention to a woman like yourself. You had no idea whether they really would kill your brother, but it was not something you wanted to risk after finally being so close to him after all this time.

"Go on then," you heard your Uncle speak for the first time in years "Slit his throat,"

It was that that gave you the extra drive you needed and you soon found yourself stood on the grass in clear view of the man who had murdered your sister and the brother he was now clutching all too tight.

"Stop!" You yelled surprised at your own composure. "I Lady Y/n of house Lanister and Casterlyrock command you to remove that knife from lord Edmure,"

"What?" the man replied "why should I listen to you?"

You were about to give him what was admittedly not the best reason, before Jaime took his place standing beside you, a visual show of support in front of men who were far more likely to listen to him anyway.

"Lothar is it?" He asked calmly.

The man nodded, seemingly shocked that such a highborn man could know his name, as if he had forgotten that he was the commander in charge of the very operation.

"Come down here, I want a word. This siege is now under my control,"

You didn't busy yourself with anything that was said after that, you simply made your way up the stairs so that you could pull Edmure into an embrace as they let him go.

"Y/n?" you hear him choke out as you wrap your arms around his middle wishing for once that you weren't so much smaller than him.

"Hush," you quieten. "It's alright brother, I'm here,"

The two of you move back towards Jaime and Bronn, in time to hear your husband bickering with the two Fray men about how it was your brother was going to be treated. They were fools for even attempting to disagree with him you noted, he could have had them killed in an instant and the world would not have missed them. The sound of an insult aimed at you catches your ear then, you should have expected it you supposed, but Jaime backhand's the man quickly reaffirming who it is that is in control. It was funny, that Jaime could care so little for his own honor but then be so be careful with yours.

You do not hear whatever it is that is said next, as with one last look over your shoulder to your husband, you lead Edmure to a place you knew he could at least be comfortable for a while.

The tent that you and Jaime shared was nothing if not lavish with bright red walls, a real bed and extra furs for you to keep you warm at night, you knew it was a lot nicer than what most of the soldiers had. A statement of power, you could almost hear the lion telling you. Still there was one item of particular importance to you in that moment, the tin bath. You gathered up what hot water you could and poured it in, all the while keeping an eye on your brother who was being rather quiet though you supposed it was understandable in the circumstances. There was soldiers posted outside the tent, in case he tried to escape, but you tried not to think about it.

"I write to Roslin," You tell him as your pour in the last of the water, your back to him so that you cannot see his reaction. "she says that your son is well, and that she finds herself missing you,"

There are a few more beats of silence as you put down the bucket to turn back to face him.

"The Kingslayer is treating you well then," Your brother comments with enough bitterness to make you cower.

"Jaime treats me as well as he is able," you respond gently

"That's good, considering the part he played in murdering the rest of our family,"

"We were married before Robb ever rowed south you know that," you replied "I would not be alive today if it weren't for my husband, so I suggest you show him the respect he deserves, at least in that regard," You can understand your brother's anger of course, you were certain that if it was the other way around you probably would have had the same amount of distaste for all the Lannisters, but at the same time your brother was a prisoner and for that reason alone he should have known to be careful with his word choice. You were not interested in the idea of having to defend Jaime yet again even to your brother, so instead you turn your back to him and begin to make your way into one of the other rooms of the tent, before speaking to him once more over your shoulder. "Enjoy that, I'll be back in a while with some clean clothes and some food,"

You step through the rest of the tent not bothering to stay within it and move outside just in time to see Bronn dashing towards you.

"What is it?" You ask already bracing yourself for what was most likely going to be bad news.

"His highness says if you want to speak to the Blackfish then you have to come now,"

Tagging: @elenawrit @poruchik-logy @not-alexachung

[sunlitroom]

Gotham 3.20 How The Riddler Got His Name

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham.

The Court of Owls plotline helpfully condensed in 5 seconds. Fake Bruce – and how can he save Gotham.  He‘s apparently only part of the plan - with Jim the other part. Katherine asks if Frank knows what happens if Jim fails.  Bruce and Selina seem pretty over due to Bruce not telling Selina about her mother’s plan.  The pier. Ed doesn't love Oswald.  He loved Isabella.  Bang. Splash

As always, long post will be long - reaaally long.  There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot may appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)).  There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism.  Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

 We see a scientist enter a raised glass lab in which Ed is lurking with a gun

Greetings, professor

The professor wisely calls for help, but Ed assures him that no-one is coming.

Ed’s appearance is very clean and clinical – not a hair out of place.  Sterile.

Who are you – asks the professor.  Ed smiles.

Excellent question

Ed offers a riddle, but the professor gets it wrong.  Ed is infuriated by this – control totally lost.  He seems to catch how extreme his response is.

I apologise - I'm not myself these days

Ed ties him up and tries another riddle, which he again gets wrong.  Ed is furious again, and says he expected more.  I’m not really sure why he expects the head of chemistry to be good at wordplay – but whatever.  Ed says that none of the others did well either.  We see the penny drop for the professor that he might not make it out of this.

Others?

A writer, artist, philosopher.  Intellectual and artistic stars

Ed killed them all, apparently.  He continues.

My best friend recently said there was no me without him.  I shot him and dumped him in the river.

The professor cringes – because if this man murdered his best friend, he knows there’s no hope for him. Ed goes on.

He was a sort of guide to me on my journey…..

(an aside – this is a theme for Ed in this episode.  Oswald the person is reduced to only what is useful for Ed, in memory and in hallucination. In a way, it’s as much an assertion of control and ownership as painting a question mark over Oswald’s portrait, or holding on to trophies like Dougherty’s badge, or Kristin’s glasses.)

…I know who I am professor.  It’s how to be him that is eluding me.  Ed is visibly agitated and frustrated.  He offers another riddle – which the professor can’t answer.

Too bad, says Ed.  He opens gas canisters and leaves, blowing the building up behind him as he goes.

Ed really is a selfish asshole.  Artists and academics all squandered because they couldn’t answer his riddles.  It’s maybe interesting to consider whether Ed – whose role was perhaps not reflective of his intellect – is likely to have resented figures who were recognised for their abilities.

Bruce recounting night of his parents’ death - except it's not Bruce, it's fake Bruce, who's been well rehearsed.  Katherine is pleased.

Excellent, my dear - you truly are Bruce Wayne.

She phones Uncle Frank, and says that they are ready, adding.

I hope your nephew is amenable.  Should he refuse - you know the rules.  

Frank reassures her. She tells Bruce they are to proceed, and fills a biiig syringe.

Ed is reading a newspaper - Oswald missing, worst feared – a report on the murder of the chemistry professor.

Ed rubs his temples (we can assume running the city single-handed and going on a killing spree is pretty tiring) and pops a pill.  His eyes go weird, and he turns to the sofa to see a hallucination of Oswald in a sodden suit.  He snarls at him

What did I tell you about dripping on the couch?

It’s Oswald’s house, Ed. So belt up.

Os needles Ed over his hypocrisy, asking him how long he’ll present the public face of grief, when he actually killed his best friend.  Ed is rattled – which suggests that although Ed might be using the hallucination of Oswald to serve his own needs, we’re still seeing some of the same stuff we saw eack when it was BadEd in the mirror – needling, provoking, mocking.

Oswald walks into the room and asks Ed about his extra-curricular activities, looking at a noticeboard with pictures of Ed’s recent victims.

HallucinationOswald mirrors Ed’s gestures as they look, because he's essentially just a projection of Ed.

Oswald recommends that Ed ditch the riddles.  Ed reacts strongly.  This is not an option

A good riddle reveals the asker – so someone who can answer can help him

He wants to find a guide to help him – because knowing who he is and how to be that person are two different things.  Halluc-Os sneers.

I made myself Penguin when I killed Fish

He claims he didn’t need anyone’s help – and had no teacher.  

(An aside- This also flags up areas where Ed’s understanding or knowledge of Oswald is flawed or incomplete. Fish told Oswald she created him when they met again – and Oswald did not dispute that.  Either Oswald did not share that information, or Ed didn’t listen. I’d go for (A), since Ed paid attention to everything that helped him to read and manipulate Oswald)

Ed clicks his fingers. Maybe it’s not a teacher that he needs – but an enemy.  Villains are defined by the men who seek to stop them, and he knows the perfect man (Freudian slip there from Ed – as discussed elsewhere with insights from @rhavewellyarnbag and @millicentcordelia  - Jim is indeed the golden boy in Ed’s eyes)

Halluc-Os snaps to attention and steps in front of Ed as if to stop him

Please - do not say Jim Gordon

Jim says Jim’s name at the same time – and smiles maliciously at Oswald’s pained expression.  Again – discussed elsewhere with @millicentcordelia and @rhavewellyarnbag – Ed knows that Oswald cares about Jim and tries to protect him, and so his hallucination of Oswald behaves accordingly.  Mentally tormenting a hallucination of Oswald after he’s already messed horribly with his head and shot him is…. something else.  Ed really does enjoy hurting people.

At GCPD, Lucius is talking over the recent string of murders with Harvey, who still appears to be acting captain.  Harvey is dismissive, but Lucius is insistent.

And professor of mine died in that lab fire

Harvey pulls a face.

Bored down in the lab, Lucius?

Lucius visibly reigns in his frustration

Yes – but that’s not why you should look at this

Harvey says they cannot allocate resources to this (6 murders, Harvey – really?)

Lucius wants to call Jim, but Harvey refuses and says Jim needs rest.

A singing telegram arrives downstairs for Jim with a murder riddle from Ed.  It’s a chess strategy, from which Lucius deduces he is going to kill again.  I get a depressing flashback to season 2 of Twin Peaks and Windom Earle’s shenanigans.

 A competitive chess game. Ed watches from a balcony.  He’s tired and headachey – slapping his face to stay awake.  They should have left the scene explaining Ed's exhaustion and drug use to combat it in – I think.  The idea that Ed was not enjoying running the city anymore and was suffering physically adds more fuel to his decision to find his own way.  Oswald appears again when he pops his pill.  What the hell is he taking?  Ed thank Oswald for coming.  Oswald is sour.

Like I had a choice

Ed promises that it will be electrifying.

Oswald eats popcorn while Ed obnoxiously interrupts games by yelling suggestions from the balcony. Oswald tires of this.

Can we discuss why you're doing this?

Ed doesn’t like being questioned.  Oswald smiles.

The problem with talking to projections of your psyche – and you of all people should know this – is that they know everything you know. Gordon can't help you (a slip by Ed– I don’t think Os ever refers to Jim by surname only). No-one can.  You need to face the truth. (Again, this is pretty much BadEd territory – undermining, insulting)

Ed is distracted by the arrival of GCPD.

No Jim Gordon? Well then, who?  

He smiles when he sees who - Harvey and Lucius

Oh - how interesting.

Ed flips the first switch, shocking a player – and enjoys the chaos that ensues – the hallucination forgotten.

Country Cabin That Looks Suspiciously Like The Place Maroni took Oswald

Jim wants to know why he's here.  Is Uncle Frank going to explain disappearing when he was a kid?  Or what happened between him and his dad?

Frank asks for trust. Jim knocks back a drink before answering.

You’re family - of course I trust you.  

Somewhere, Selina feels the urge to smack Jim on the side of his head and give him a talking-to.  

Frank asks Jim if he’s ever done something he thought was right at time, but would give his life to do over.  Jim internally reviews every life event to date, up to and including his breakfast choices this morning.

Frank says that was what happened with Jim’s father.  He loved his brother and Jim is his son. He wants to make things right.

Wayne Manor, where knife throwing lessons are in progress.

Alfred deliberately annoys Bruce as he throws to test his concentration.  He thinks Bruce has something on his mind.

Miss Kyle, perhaps

Apparently, Selina let a note for him – asking for a meeting.  Bruce refuses - Selina's avoided him for weeks, and it’ll take more than a note to have him running.  I suppose Bruce is a child – so his lack of understanding is plausible – but Selina did have her mother, who abandoned her, come back into her life and immediately cynically try to scam her. I think she’s allowed to have some problems right now.

GCPD, where Lucius reviews evidence. There’s numbers on bottom of the chess pieces.  They call the number they give them, and reach Ed, trying out a new gravelly voice.  He tells Lucius it’s bad manners to intercept other people’s mail.  Lucius asks why he killed all those people

I had no choice - they failed my test

He invites Lucius to solve clue – the next target is in the belly of beast.  If he can solve the clue, then he’s one step closer to finding him.

We can see, in the background, that Ed has painted a question mark over Oswald's portrait

Out in the countryside, Jim and Uncle Frank are hunting.  Jim misses. Frank commiserates – but Jim tells him it was deliberate, in order to test his gun.  Frank makes disappointed noises, but Jim’s having none of it.

You tell me you’ve done terrible things, and then you bring me out here (Good instincts, Jim.  Isolated cabins are murdery)

Franks asks if Jim’s heard old Gotham tales about the Court of Owls.  Jim responds,

Pretend I haven't

Frank elaborates. They’re a secret society started by elite to maintain balance. (elites aren’t interested in balance, Frank – they’re interested in maintaining an unbalanced status-quo which perpetuates their power, but anyway).

However, time and power has corrupted the organisation, of which Jim’s father was, and Frank is, a member.

Jim handles his gun meaningfully.

Frank reassures him. The Court doesn't mean him harm.  It has the highest regard for him, and wants him to become a member.  Jim looks generally unhappy.

 GCPD – where Lucius and Harvey interrogating a man.  Harvey tells Lucius to rough him up, but Lucius doesn’t play that way – and says that ‘no-one is hitting anyone’.  

Long story short – the man’s boss is called Mr Thirio – Greek for beast – so they can find the next clue.

 Wayne Manor, in the kitchens.

Bruce asks Alfred what he’s making.  It’s shepherd’s pie.  Fuck – flee to the city, Bruce.  Get in a fight.  Get abducted. Visit Jeri.  Visit Jerome.  Shepherd’s pie tastes of precisely fuck all and never seems to come to an end.

Alfred tells how the recipe was given to him by an old ‘lady friend’ with whom he had a fling, but broke up over something silly.  Bruce scoffs at the attempt to get his to see Selina.  Alfred elaborates, though, and says that at least he and his ex got closure. Bruce should see Selina – if only for that.  Bruce agrees, and Alfred says he’ll keep some pie warm.  Even better. Dry shepherd’s pie.

 GCPD.

Lucius tells Harvey that Thirio was not in his apartment.  Harvey is not really listening, admiring himself in the mirror.  He’s going to the academy graduations.

How do I look?

Is this what Gordon deals with?

Harvey thanks him, and then asks if he’s seen his badge

Oswald’s mansion, where Ed is being berated by his own psyche.  Oswald rants at him.  He showed him how to be Ed Nygma.  He showed him how to run the underworld, hidden in plain sight.

(An aside.  Ed fundamentally doesn't want that.  He doesn’t want to be concealed in any way.  He needs to be recognised – which is why his situation with Oswald was only ever temporary)

Oswald works on him some more.  He says that Ed isn't sleeping, that he’s taking drugs and talking to his own hallucination. He’s screaming now, trying to undermine him.

You’re lost without me.

Ed tries to leave. However, his vision blurs and turns red, and suddenly hallucination Oswald is singing a torch song.  This seems to enrage Ed.  He doesn’t want a reminder of this aspect of Oswald.  His hallucination is there to serve a specific purpose, and Ed – ultimately – had no use for this part of Oswald.  Maybe – too – seeing a reminder of the fact that Oswald was an actual person with his own motivations and feelings kindles some guilt, because Ed hits the table and yells:

I admit that killing you killed part of me – but I will find a way forward and be reborn!

The hallucination yells after him, but is breaking down now, more obviously just a projection of Ed’s insecurities – talking about Oswald in the third person

Penguin saw you Ed - he made you.  There’s no Ed Nygma without Penguin!

Maybe try taking just half of one of those pills, Ed?

GCPD – where Lee is examining the corpse.  Lucius points out that Lee worked at Arkham, and asks for her insight – why would a killer do this?  Lee replies that we all want answers to the same big questions.  Who am I?  Will anyone ever love me?  Some people seek answers in a logical way….

While others stuff Harvey Bullock’s badge inside a dead body.

Lucius courteously thanks Lee before leaving, using her professional title.

At the academy, Harvey rehearses a bad speech.  Ed sidles up to him.  Harvey asks what the hell he’s doing there.  Ed comments that – as GCPD seemingly can’t locate the mayor – he’s here to address the cadets on his behalf.  Harvey bridles at the suggestion of Ed – a cop killer – addressing the cadets. Ed is irritated by this:

How is the view from the moral high ground, Harvey?

Harvey’s phone rings. It’s Lucius.  Ed grins...

Must be about me

…and lurches forward to grab Harvey and – presumably – chloroform him.

Sitting on some stairs in the city, Bruce reads Selina’s note.  He hears a fight and goes to see what’s happening.

I remember you - Bruce Wayne

It’s Sonny Gilzean, who asks if he has money, and makes to mug him.

Selina appears and tells him to back off

Bruce says he’s here to talk.  Selina isn’t – she’s looking for Sonny – with whom she’s got business.  Bruce proceeds to put his foot in it.

He’s a thief - you can't trust him.

Selina icily responds that she’s a thief too.  Bruce tries to apologise.

Sorry – I should have told you I suspected your mother

Selina doesn’t want to hear it – but can’t quite manage to restrain a backhanded attempt to protect him.

Go home – you don't belong here

Bruce asks why she asked him here at all. Selina says she didn’t – and tells him not to come looking for her again.  

Sonny says it’s too bad his girlfriend left.

I don't think she's my girlfriend

Me neither

Bruce takes more of a beating before rallying.

 Graduation ceremony. Ed takes the stage and banters a little. Harvey’s all tied up.  They all look dandy.

How do I look?

He riddles at them

Light as a feather- but no man can hold it long.  What am I?

The audience of cadets mutters, and wonders if they can legally shoot him now or have to wait until after the ceremony.

Ed loses his temper and delivers the answer while rolling out gas canisters.

Your breath

He laughs, and leaves.

Meantime Lucius arrives and encounters another telegram.  He talks to Ed on the phone

Foxy?  How’d you know it was me?

Only one person refers to me as Foxy

(Oh dear – a special nickname.  That sound in the distance is someone, somewhere, launching a ship.  Ed helps the launch along by demanding Lucius’ undivided attention)

Come upstairs and play a game with me for the antidote.  Come along, or Harvey and the cadets all die.

Lucius runs upstairs to find Harvey tied to a chair and perched on the banister.  He asks if he’s OK.  Ed removes Harvey’s gag to let him answer.  Harvey tells him not to try to outsmart ‘this lunatic’ - cadets lives at stake.

Lucius ignores him.

Let’s begin.

Ed smiles widely.

Wonderful.

If Lucius can get just one, everyone lives.  Lose – and they all die.

(To save my wrists, and because the riddles are giffed elsewhere – I’m not typing them all out in full)

Ed offers the first riddle. Lucius answers ‘love’ – but the answer was ‘loneliness’.  Ed is enraged.

How do you not know that?  

He cuts a rope. Harvey panics and pleads.

No – Nygma, no.

Another.

I’m a member of a group – but can never blend in

Lucius answers ‘snowflake’

Ed screams in rage

‘Individual’

Lucius remonstrates.

Snowflake is also a suitable answer.

Ed wants his answer – though.  He becomes very agitated, and cuts another rope.  Harvey is frightened, and pleads again.

I'm sorry - oh god

Ed is arguing with himself now.  Oswald was right -he's was the only one.  He wheels suddenly to point confront Lucius.  No!  It's just you - you aren’t a good enough enemy

Lucius stays calm, and listens to what Ed says – so when Ed starts his next riddle….

I feel your every move.  I’m with you through birth, and I’ll see you rot

He’s able to interrupt, unsettling Ed.  He keeps his tone controlled and soft. Curious, more than anything

What did you do Ed, what happened to Penguin?

Ed falters.

Did you kill him?  You did, didn’t you?

Ed is repeating the riddle compulsively now – almost like it will calm him.

Lucius answers:

A reflection

Ed’s smile contains genuine joy

Correct

Ed walks away without enacting any of his revenge.  He wants to be understood more than to kill

Unfortunately, the rope frays anyway – and Harvey is caught by Lucius before he can topple down the stairs.

Back in the city,  Bruce's nose is bleeding. He stops at a convenient mirror in an alley – only to see his double appear behind him, which is still less scary than BOB.

You

Good to see you too

Bruce says his double sent the note – and notices that he’s dressed identically to him.

Yes - like looking into a mirror.

Bruce 2 lunges forward and plunges the syringe into Bruce’s neck

This is what I was made for - to be Bruce Wayne.

Back at the hunting lodge. Jim doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing.

How could my father have been part of this?

Frank protests.  At the time, they were proud to join - thought we were going to do good.  He claims now, though, to be disenchanted.  He despises them.  Jim’s father saw through their lies earlier – but Frank didn’t listen until it was too late. The Court killed him.

Jim can’t hear this. He denies it  - adamant.  He was there. It was an accident. A drink driver.

I was in the wreck.  I watched him die.

Oh Jim.

Frank says staging a crash is simple business for the Court.

Why now, Jim wants to know – 20 years later?  Where have you been?  Where were you when my mom and I needed you?

Franks said the Court sent him abroad to prove loyalty.  Jim asks why he would prove loyalty to group that murdered his brother?  Frank says he chose to live.  Now, though - they want Jim to join.  He wants Jim to help him succeed where others have failed.  He wants to bring the Court down and return the rule of democracy and law to Gotham. Jim asks why he should believe him.

You have to believe in something

Wayne Manor kitchens. Alfred listens to a radio report of Ed’s exploits which tells people to look out for a man in a green suit. Should probably also mention cheekbones. Look out for a guy wearing a green suit, with cheekbones that could cut glass, probably having a conversation with himself.

Bruce 2 enters. Alfred asks how Selina was.  Bruce 2 smarmily responds.

Selina Selina

Alfred smiles, and offers shepherd’s pie.  Bruce says that sounds delicious. Alfred looks momentarily suspicious – because shepherd’s pie plainly isn’t delicious – and claiming it is means you’re definitely an evil doppelganger.  

He masks his uncertainty quickly

Jolly good - won't be a mo.

 A swat team invades Van Dahl mansion.  Ed’s gone, though.  We see the portrait again.

 In the street.   Lucius gets into his car.  Ed pops up from the back seat.

Hello Foxy

Lucius seems unruffled. So - the antidote turned out to be grape juice, and the deadly toxin was knock-out gas.

Ed says the whole point was to play a game, not kill people.  Lucius points out,

But you killed Penguin and Prof Dyson.

Ed frowns.

Have you always been Foxy?

Lucius says he’s not sure what he means.  Ed elaborates.

All my life - I felt like someone was inside of me.  Someone stronger and smarter, that people would fear.  No one else saw that.

Lucius interrupts,

Except Penguin

Ed agrees – a moment of sadness on his face

Except Oswald.

But he killed Oswald because Oswald killed the woman he loved

Lucius asks if that’s what Ed thinks he’ll do now Oswald’s gone - fill that role - to be a reflection (‘a friend is, as it were, a second self’). Ed says no – though.

I know who I am.   I know how to be him.

He smiles as he puts a gun to Lucius’ head – and thanks him for the part he played in that.

Lucius points out how reckless Ed’s actions are.   He’s honestly worried and pitying, and tells Ed that any part of him that isn’t insane needs to listen to him.

You need help.  Turn yourself in.

Ed’s smile fades.  

My actions seem mad to you

Lucius nods.

To anyone

Ed swallows.

I - I killed the best friend I’ve ever had.  My search for a teacher or enemy…that was just me trying to hold on to him for a little bit longer. (Interesting that Ed is able to reflect honestly when confronted with genuine, calm concern)

But now I know who am without him

So who are you now?

Come on, Foxy.  I’m The Riddler.

He wallops Lucius on the head with his gun, and then leans back, laughing to himself.

Ed is at the pier with Oswald.  Ed tells the hallucination that his friendship meant something to him.  He cared about Oswald, and he misses him.

Oswald is sour

Gee.  That almost makes up for being dead.

(An aside - Ed’s admission isn’t exactly surprising.  I've said before that while Ed was extremely manipulative, and fostered dependency from Oswald - I honestly think that Ed - being utterly convinced of his own judgment above anyone else's - felt that this was fine, because he was acting in Oswald's own best interests.  Oswald is the only friend Ed ever had, and that was meaningful to him.  

As Oswald points out though - while it's nice that Ed gets his emotional closure, it doesn't make Oswald any less shot.  In the same way, Ed’s retconning of Kristin's death into his 'becoming' doesn't make her any less strangled.  In a way, it serves to make Ed more frightening.  He can feel genuine love or friendship for someone, but he equally has the capacity to knowingly hurt that person, to frighten them, and to take their life from them.  That he can then package it neatly into something that suits him psychologically just feels like one last violation, someone's personhood taken away, and their life considered only in terms of how it served Ed's needs.)

The hallucination points out that all GCPD is hunting him, and no one is going to be afraid of The Riddler.

Ed smiles.  They will be.  Kneeling at the edge, he tips the pills into the water.  Looking round, he sees he is alone, and smiles.  He bids Oswald goodbye before donning a bowler hat and striding away.

Ivy is misting lots of pot plants in a room which also contains a bed, which also contains one Oswald Cobblepot.  Oswald is waking up

Well - looks who's alive.

Oswald asks who she is.

Ivy Pepper, stupid.

Confused, Oswald asks if they know each other.  Ivy tells him she pulled him out of the river – and has been nursing him for weeks. It’s pretty boring – he sleeps a lot. She then frowns, noticing that Oswald looks strange.  Like he’s going to puke.  She asks if he’s OK.  Oswald’s possibly confused at being rescued and nursed out of simple altruism for once, as opposed to being shot full of drugs and relentlessly manipulated.

Oswald smiles, and his jangly signature music kicks in.

I just remembered – there’s someone I need to kill

You go, sweetie.

At the miserable cabin. Jim brings back wood for the fire. He calls for his uncle, but he’s gone, leaving a family photograph with a message written on the back:

Help me honour his memory.

At the Court, Katherine is enquiring how things went.  Frank says Jim’s interest is piqued, but convincing him will take time.  Katherine says they don’t have time, and that the clone is in place.  Bruce Wayne is waking up as they speak.

 And he is.  Bruce sees bright lights and wakes up in a cell, in weird woollen pyjamas.  Going to the window, he looks out to an arctic looking landscape.

 I apologise - I’m not myself these days.

This has always been the problem for Ed, who has struggled for as long as we’ve known him to have a coherent sense of self.  Shot through with self-hatred, parts of his psyche splinter off and manifest as other people – usually berating him, mocking him for his failure to be a better self – this other, buried person he feels he’s supposed to be – that he sometimes glimpses in other people, like Lucius, or Jim.

Unsure of how to embody this better self – Ed looked for a guide.  He thought that was Oswald, but Oswald failed him, and was mercilessly discarded.  He thinks defining himself against an enemy might help – and who better than Jim Gordon? But Jim, hilariously, manages to thwart Ed simply by being absent.  

So Ed’s left with Lucius – which is fortunate for him – because Jim’s approach would have involved much less in the way of warm, calm compassion, and more in the way of punching. Lucius is perhaps the first person to express genuine, disinterested concern for Ed.  He listens, and doesn’t mock. Ed, in turn, credits Lucius with helping him see who he is.  As we leave him this episode, he has a renewed purpose and sense of who he is. 

Jim’s dead father has always loomed large, and many of Jim’s interactions with authority figures are informed by that relationship – with Jim seeking out father figures, but then almost immediately being disappointed by them, and acting out in response.  I wonder whether – on some level – Jim had an inkling of something being not quite right?  

Whether he did or not, the revelations about his father will shake Jim’s sense of identity, and force him to question himself and his ideas.   Already there’s a fundamental shift.  He’s no longer the boy who witnessed his father’s accidental death.  He’s now the boy who saw him murdered.

Bruce isn’t himself right now because he’s at odds with Selina – who acts as a counterbalance to him in many ways.  Whether he can retain his sense of self in the face of whatever training he seems to have been forcibly sent on remains to be seen.

Bruce 2, meanwhile, is exultant.  A lifetime of experimentation and prodding, and he finally gets to ‘be’ Bruce.

Oswald wasn’t Oswald for much of the episode, because what we saw was a fake – a projection of Ed’s insecurities, conjured up to help him cope with sadness at the loss of a friend. However, the Oswald we saw at the end – grinning and out for revenge – seems to have regained a more firm grip on his sense of self.

General Observations

All-round enjoyable episode, I thought.  Lucius is warm, thoughtful, curious, respectful, and intelligent – and great to watch.  His interactions with Harvey and Lee offer something a little different.  His scenes with Ed, though, were really the highlight. There’s a genuine connection there that will hopefully be developed more.

Butch, Barbara and Tabitha were conspicuous by their absence.  All we can take from this is that Barbara has not made good on her promise to kill Ed – despite some weeks having passed – and that this is likely having an effect on that relationship.

Jim’s in a pretty vulnerable place right now.  Still smarting – we assume – from the aftermath of the triangle of tedium, he’s now on very treacherous ground, being either guided or manipulated by an Uncle whom he resents for abandoning him after his father’s death.  

Also dealing with parental abandonment twice over is Selina.  She seems hard and uncaring right now – trying to go back to her old life like Bruce never existed – trying to protect herself.

An Ivy/Oswald friendship would be great.  They’re both – as discussed elsewhere – perceived as odd outsiders, both (for different reasons) childlike adults.  Oswald never forgets slights, but he never forgets a good turn either – and Ivy selflessly cared for him for weeks.

First confirmed non-sighting of Victor.  I’m watching you, show.

Thoughts?