#dany knew him best and she said the last kindness left him when he sold their mother's crown

[hylialeia]

you don't get it. she loved him once. she didn't have a maester, she had a brother. he sold their mother's crown to keep them fed. he said Dany, please. she loved him, once.

[thiswasinevitableid]

sea monster indruck nsfw? maybe including one of them masturbating while fantasizing about the other one and confessing all their dirty thoughts as they're actually having sex? scary protective monster is also always hot if you're down for that

Here you go! I wasn’t able to fit in everything, but this one was fun!

This is all the hangman's fault. 

Indrid could be pleasantly dead right now, not trapped in a gibbet on a clifftop, if the man had bothered to check his ropes ahead of time. But no, instead he failed to see the rats had been gnawing on them and the blasted noose snapped clean off the instant it took Indrids weight. To the villagers, this was a sign that Indrid was indeed a witch (and the son of a demon, a rare charge that drags his poor, deceased mother into this mess). To Indrid, it meant a new set of bruises and the worst possible death. 

They locked him in the gibbet, the Atlantic crashing in angry, grey waves far below them. The man on his right is dead, eyeballs already plucked out by an enterprising bird, and the man on his left is getting there. If his visions are accurate, Indrid has a good five days of suffering the elements, the wild-life, and his own hunger and thirst before he joins them. 

A lifetime of visions breeds resignation in the face of fate, so he closes his eyes, follows the futures of luckier men as a temporary escape. The screams of his neighbor rouse him with a start. Their source is wholly unexpected. 

Looming at the edge of the cliff is an immense monster. From his vantage point, Indrid spies the creatures’ lower body still submerged in the sea, making it well over a hundred feet tall. It’s skin is green, it’s fingers webbed, and it’s crowned by a frill of wave-shaped spikes. The face is humanoid, with green eyes and hair of black water and a squid-beak where a mouth should be. Strange tentacles appear and disappear along its torso, as if they have not made up their mind as to whether they wish to exist. 

The monster sighs, “Fuckin hate it when they leave their dead like this. Unsightly, and I ain’t sure it’s good for the seagulls to be eatin humans.”

“The dead and, ah, almost dead do not enjoy it much either.” 

Upon hearing Indrids voice, the creature peers into his cage, “Huh, guess you ain’t dead. Either of you.” He turns his eyes on the other condemned man, who starts screaming again, “why’d they stick you here?”

“Witchcraft, specifically foresight and dabbling in ‘black magic.’ Well, that and a failed hanging” He tilts his head to show the visitor the rope mark. 

“Damn, that looks like it hurts. Wonder if I can..” the tip of an immense claw extends towards him. There’s a crackle of power that makes his ears pop, and the monster pulls his hand back, “nope, fuck, was hopin it’d be a small enough thing to do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The monster sighs, “Long story short, my kind ain’t able to interact in an, uh, altruistic fashion with humans unless they’re acolytes. Can’t even open that damn cage without gettin zapped. Never mind that some of us don’t even wanna be old gods or whatever the fuck, still ain’t allowed to help. Maybe if I get a real big stick..”

“How does one become an acolyte?” Indrid presses his face to the front of the cage.

“Uh, you gotta swear loyalty and servitude to me, specifically, and the ‘old gods’ in general, live in a place I set up for you, and do stuff when I need you to.”

“Very well, are there specific words of the oath or…”

“Whoah, hold up now” the creature raises his hands, “this shit is real bindin’, rather you not rush into it.”

“Given the alternative is death, a rush is rather necessary.”

“All I’m sayin is you might wanna think for more than two seconds before you agree! And there might be other ways for me to get you out.”

“Do..do you not want an acolyte?” Being rejected by a sea monster feels like a fitting end to his life. 

“Not really. It ain’t personal or anythin; I’m just now leanin into the whole god thing and I still ain’t all that comfortable with parts if it. Last thing I want is an acolyte who saw me as ‘not as bad as death.”

“And the last thing I want is to die of exposure, so we are at an impasse.”

The monster clicks his beak once, “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. You take until sunset to think over whether you wanna be stuck servin’ this” he gestures to himself, “for a long-ass time, and we’ll go from there.”

“Very well.” Indrid resigns himself to several more hours of misery as the creature sinks from view. He glances at the other prisoner, “what do you think? He seems very considerate for a sea monster and I for one would like to keep living.”

The man stares, babbles incoherently for a moment before shouting, “You, you conversed with a devil! You are a witch, just as they say!”

“He spoke to both of us.” Indrid blinks, puzzled. 

“I closed my ears to his lies, you offered yourself to his wickedness! Speak no more to me from your black tongue.”

“Hmmph” Indrid does his best to ignore the ongoing beration. He’s not sure the creature is a god, but then again the creature seems uncertain on the matter himself. Serving a maybe-god seems no worse than serving the king, a life among the depths no less tolerable than his small home in a town torn to pieces by accusations of witchcraft. 

After a time, the storm clouds fulfill their purpose, a downpour battering him from all angles. Then a shadow falls over his shut eyes, and no more rain touches him. 

“Seemed awful rude to leave you stuck in the rain while you thought things over.” The god explains, one massive hand shielding the human. 

“Many thanks. Ah, I do have one concern about being your acolyte. Would...would I have to hurt anyone?”

“Don’t think so. I ain’t fond of hurtin folks, and if someone did need to be hurt, seems real strange to make the tiny human do it.”

Indrid puts on his most hopeful, charming smile, “I am very cold, very hungry, and my whole being feels as though it’s been stomped on by a team of horses. Perhaps I could give my answer early?”

A chuckle, like bubbles in deep water, “Hard to say no to that face. Okay, you got a deal. I checked with Joe while I was gone, to make sure I knew the right thing to do if you said yes. I’m gonna say the oath, and you’re gonna repeat it.”

Indrid nods, makes his way laboriously through the incantation in a gurgling language he does not know. The god patiently guides him along, cracks open the cage when the last word is spoken. 

“Do I get to know your name? If it was one of those words, it will take me some time to master it.”

The monsters’ cheeks rise, suggesting a smile, “You can call me Duck. It’s a nickname. C’mon” he holds out his hand, “let’s get you outta the rain.”

“One moment.” Indrid moves to the other gibbet, undoing the lock, “you can get free if you wish. If anyone asks how, tell them it was the witch.” With that, he settles in Duck’s cupped palms, the skin smooth and cool to the touch. 

“Down we go.” Duck sinks. 

“Wait, how will I bre-” water fills his mouth, but only for a moment. A clear bubble forms around him, let’s him gulp in air as Duck dives further into the sea. More jarring than the spell is the sight of the monster unfurling behind him. He assumed Duck had legs, but instead his lower body is that of a sea-serpent, green with bronze rings and undulating in the dark waves. 

“Like what you see?”

“Yes” he wonders what touching that tail is like.

“Yeah, this is a real beautiful part of the sea. If you want, some time I can take you further out; some spectacular lookin creatures out there. Here we go, home sweet home.” They surface at the base of a much shorter cliff, Indrid woozy from the change in depth. Three cottages--one red, one gold, and one blue-- stare back at them from a grassy hill. 

“Let’s see if I can do this” Duck sets Indrid on the ground, closes his eyes, and hums. The world shudders and splits, and then a fourth, emerald green cottage sits alongside the others. 

“Ha! Pretty damn good for a first effort.” His frill flickers with silver light.

“It’s wonderful.”

“All yours. You get yourself settled, I'm gonna go find out from the others what else needs doin’ now that I got an acolyte.” He lowers himself so the two of them are roughly face to face, “see you soon, Indrid.”

--------------------------------------

The cottage holds more possessions than Indrid’s ever had in his life, including a large feather bed that he stretches his aching body across before falling asleep and dreaming of seaweed twining up his legs. 

Voices from the window rouse him some hours later. At the side of the red cottage sit three other humans, two of whom are at work in a vegetable garden. Indrid ventures down to introduce himself. 

“Hi!” One, a woman with golden hair, waves to him, “you must be Indrid. I’m Dani, this is Barclay” she points to the bearded man harvesting potatoes, then to a tattooed man polishing a pile of gold and silver jewelry, “and that’s Boyd.” 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are all acolytes as well?” His stomach rumbles and Barclay pauses his digging to slide him a basket containing bread and cheese.

“Help yourself, those are leftover from lunch. And yeah, we are. Or were, in Dani’s case.”

Even with foresight, Indrid is surprised when the woman says jokingly, “Got promoted to ‘wife’ a few months.”

“Congratulations.” It seems the appropriate thing to say, given her smile, “ah, what exactly do you all do for your gods? Duck is rather unclear on the details.”

“Some of it is spellwork. Beings like Duck have some innate power, but they can get more of it from an acolyte doing rituals or making offerings. Joseph, that’s my monster, Duck, and a few others aren’t sold on the idea that they’re meant to destroy humans, so they spend a lot of time keeping other monsters from doing just that. Our spellwork gives them an edge. Other than that, it really depends on who you’re working for; I spent a lot of my first month helping Joseph understand that hauling himself up onto a random dock to ask questions is not the best way to learn about humans. Boyd spends a lot of time maintaining Ned’s treasure.”

“Only because he bloody tricked me into workin for him. Just bidin my time until the deal runs out. You hear that Chicane!” Boyd yells towards the water, “don’t care how much you steal, I’ll get my share and run one of these days.”

To Indrid’s ear, the sea laughs in reply. Boyd grumbles and returns to his work. 

“He’s just annoyed because he and Ned thought they could outwit each other; Boyd was on a prison ship bound for Jamaica and Ned offered him an out. Apparently they spent hours haggling over the terms.” Dani leans closer, whispers, “Boyds left twice, comes back every time saying he’s bored without someone to challenge him.”

They talk a while longer, Dani promising to bring Indrid some hens and a goat from town, Boyd giving him some firewood, and Barclay explaining the network of sea caves in the surrounding hills. When there’s a knock at the door, he opens it expecting another human and jumps when this is not the case. 

“Evenin’” Duck smiles as he slithers into the house, “brought you a few more things.”

“You got smaller.” 

“Can change my size some, though this is about as small as I can get.” He’s still two heads taller than Indrid, who notes that the ceilings are just high enough to accommodate him, as if the god built the cottage with visits in mind. 

Duck sets a bucket of fresh oysters in the kitchen along with a large slab of butter, some milk, and some sugar, “Had one of my human friends bring me these. And, uh, I made you this” he holds up a cloak in the same colors as his tail. It fits Indrid snugly, shutting out the chilly air and making him feel rather grand indeed. 

“C’mere” Duck pats a kitchen chair, “lemme take care of your neck.”

Indrid sits, shudders when webbing and claws rub sticky balm into his skin. The gods hands easily encircle his neck, a realization that stirs heat deep in his stomach. Duck talks as he works, a meandering story about a shipwreck, and Indrid finds he enjoys his manner of speech. The initial discomfort of the touches subside, the balm washing the pain in his neck away like a wave erasing a message in the sand. Cool hands wrapped around his throat turn as comforting as the fire crackling in the stove. 

“That looks like it healed. Good” Duck’s beak fondly nips his ear, “gotta make sure my servant is in good condition.”

“Mmmm” Indrid bumps his chest with his head, hoping for more; tomorrow he’ll ask the others if it’s commonplace for an acolyte to lounge in the coils of their gods lap like a housecat. 

The beak touches his ear once more, biting it lightly with little kissing sounds.

“Huh'' two tentacles catch Indrid as he tips sideways, his body deciding that the earlier nap was not enough rest, “didn’t think you’d find that soothin. Did it by accident, it’s how my kind show affection.”

“S’very nice” Indrid mumbles, dimly aware of being carried. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Y’know, in case I need to reward you for somethin.” Duck lays him in bed, pulls a thick blanket over him, and bids him goodnight. Indrid is sound asleep before the door closes. 

------------------------------------

“Ngahka miskato--ah! Give that back” Indrid wrenches his spectacles free from hold of a far too inquisitive octopus. The creature squirts him with water, then disappears back into its pool. 

Each of the gods has a sea cave in which their acolytes perform their rituals. Since the processes involves ancient, dark magic, all manner of strange sea life makes its way to the caves. Some, like the octopus or the seals that bob in the distance or flop on the rocks to nap, are known to him. Others might be classified as indescribable horrors from the deep, though Indrid thinks they look like crustaceans with a few too many limbs or the offspring of an eel and devil fish. 

His oath to Duck allows him to read the spells, and his pronunciation is improving. Duck’s requests center on defense; letting himself take greater damage from an enemy, be better able to protect his friends, that sort of thing. Indrid even found a ritual that gives the god new cloaking abilities, which he’s used to make the cottages disappear on the hillside and thus keep curious townsfolk away.  He also found one that allows Duck to remain out of water for well over a day.

The Duck who visits him in the cave and the one who stops by his home may be radically different sizes, but his disposition is constant. He talks about the kelp forests and the animals, about his annoyance with his supposed destiny as “destroyer of all man.” He conjures fine clothes from seaweed, furniture from driftwood, and brings Indrid newly made grins embedded with fresh pearls. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one serving you?” Indrid will tease.

“Way I see it, we serve each other. Don’t care what that fuckin oath said.”

Indrid is feeding his hens one evening when his luck catches up with him; his human friends are all standing at the edge of Dani’s house, peering anxiously around it’s corner and down the hill. Joining them, he sees a crowd marching with torches and an assortment of lethal farm equipment. 

“What the fuck are they doing? You were just in town today and everything was fine” Barclay glances at Dani, who shrugs, worried.

“My visions tell me that as they get closer we will hear them yelling about witches and that I will recognize many of them. I suspect my fellow gibbet-occupant told them about Duck.” He sighs, “I’ll try to lead them on a chase, get them away from all of you.” 

Indrid runs into the evening before the others, or his own common sense, can stop him. Keeping to the cliffside, he lets them glimpse his hair and his red glasses, both used at the trial as proof of his wicked nature. His plan is to take a secret tunnel down into the caves, but his visions alert him a moment too late to the fact there are two, not one, groups of villagers. He’s outflanked on the cliff, holds up his hands to show he means no harm.

“I understand my continued existence alarms and confuses you, but that is no reason to go running about with weapons. Would you kindly leave me alone?”

“No, witch, we will not.” The head of the party shouts over the wind. 

“I have a name, you know.” He grumbles, looking behind him and wondering if his status as an acolyte grants him immunity from death by falling in the water. 

“You have already confessed to your black work, and we have on good authority you have made a pact with the devil. There is nowhere to run, and if you come quietly I promise we will hang you properly this time.”

“And if I do not?”

“We shall see to it that your body is scattered about this cliffside before the night is out.” The mob moves forward and Indrid stumbles back, the earth giving out beneath his feet. 

He lands with a yelp in a smooth, large hand. As Duck rises more fully from the waves, the crowd freezes, struck dumb with fear. 

“Y’all ain’t gonna touch him, y’hear? Indrid’s under my protection and in case it ain’t obvious, I could smoosh the whole damn bunch of you without breakin a sweat. So, what you’re gonna do is turn around and go back to your village, and I’ll forget this ever happened. If you come after him again, I’m gonna start taking out ships in your harbor. We clear?”

The panicked flight of the mod downhill suggests he’s made his point. 

Duck carries Indrid home, joining him in the cottage once he can fit through the door. The monster follows him upstairs, pulling him into his arms.

“Thought I was gonna lose you.”

“That makes two of us.” 

Duck nuzzles the top of his head, “You mind if I stay here tonight? Little worried some of them might get it into their heads to come back and hurt you.”

No futures show this, but Indrid nods all the same. Duck curls up near the bed, not leaving until the morning sun shines through the window. He does the same the next night, and the night after that, and soon it’s been two weeks of the god talking softly with Indrid as the human falls asleep. 

When Indrid shyly asks if Duck will join him, his monster lays as comfortably as he can on the right side of the bed. Indrid is now used to waking up with a tail looped around his leg or a tentacle clinging to his arm. 

------------------------------------

Indrid is just drifting off when the covers slide aside and weight slithers up the bed. He opens his eyes; Duck is on his side, facing him, annoyed. 

“What troubles you, my dark excellency?” Indrid nudges Ducks’ lower belly with his toes. He’s taken to calling Duck increasingly absurd things, and the monster calls him “faithful servant” or “esteemed attendant” in reply. 

Tonight, Duck just sighs, “Y’know how I was supposed to do somethin important tonight, bein’ that it’s the second full moon in the month? Turns out that somethin was, ‘spread my seed among the beds of men’ so our kind will gradually overrun the surface.” He clicks his beak with a snort, “don’t that sound fun?”

“No.”

“Smart little thing, ain’t you?” Duck teases, cups Indrid’s chin, “Yeah, I said no. Problem is, apparently a second full moon makes my whole body wanna fuck, which is why that prophecy was supposed to happen tonight.”

Indrid looks down, sees something rippling under the skin at the upper part of Duck’s tail. 

“I’m gonna try sleepin it off.”

His visions give him courage; Duck turns him down in most futures, but none of them end in death or bodily harm, which at his point in his life is all he asks. 

“Or you could, ah, allow me to help you.”

Green eyes blink, slow and calculating, “‘Drid, that ain’t part of your job.”

“No…” Indrid scoots across the sheets, tentatively runs his fingers up Duck’s side, “but that is not why I’m offering.”

“No?” The rest of his tail joins them on the bed, curving so it traps Indrid against him, “Then why are you offerin, sweet human of mine?”

“Because I, ah, I want, that is I would very much like to know you in that way, and I thought it was allowed based on the others, I apologize if it’s not, I did not mean to-” He freezes as Duck cups his face, nipping his ear and throat with a kissing noise.

“‘Drid?”

“Y-yes, my lord of the depths?” He’s breathless, drowning in Duck’s gaze. 

“Stop apologizin and take off your clothes.”

Indrid flails until nothing is between him and his monster. 

“Thats better” Duck’s voice deepens, washing over him like rough waves, “now, come serve your god.” He pats what Indrid thinks of as his waist, the point where his human qualities disappear entirely. 

“As you wish” Indrid tries for a coquettish smile as he straddles him, but it gives way to surprise as the slit in Ducks skin parts. 

“I was not expecting tentacles. Which, given the rest of you, was naive.”

“Not usin that future vision of yours to see what’s comin’?” The webbing of Duck’s fingers is like velvet as it caresses Indrid’s chest.

“It is difficult to focus on such things when you are here. You command my attention. You always have.”

Duck flicks his tongue across Indrid’s lower lip, “Now that kind of devotion I could get used to.”

“It is yours whenever you want it.”

A tentacle emerges from his side, petting Indrid’s face, “My Indrid. You been so good for me, so faithful and true. Letting me babble about seaweed and when my claws through that pretty hair. And you just keep gettin better.” 

“Please” Indrid rests his head against Duck’s chest, hugging him as best as his size will allow, “please teach me how to serve you this way too.”

“I can do that. You don’t gotta lift a finger.” Several of the tendrils that comprise his cock twine together to form a single appendage. The tentacle on his face gains a twin and the pair slide down to his ass, parting it.

Indrid’s thighs are uncooperative, struggle to get and keep him in the right position to sink down. He curses, reaches down to adjust only for a thicker tentacles to bind both wrists and yank them up above his head. 

“Uh uh, I said no finger-liftin and I meant it.”

Indrid moans, his cock filling as he discovers there’s no way to free himself. He expects Duck to guide him into place with his hands. The end of his tail encircles Indrid’s hips while his claws trace arcane shapes on his skin. 

“I, I did not know it was quite so dextrousOH, oh god.” The tip of that strange cock pushes in, pulsing little by little to stretch him open without pain. 

“Right here.” Duck nibbles his hair with that same kissing sound, “I got you. Take such good care of my faithful human.”

“Oh god” Indrid can’t come up with anything else to express the sensation of Duck sinking deeper into his body, of how safe he feels stretched out and stretched open in the monsters hold. He tips his head back with a cry as Duck bottoms out and his cock moves fluid and disjointed all at once. It’s pulsing, thrusting him full on each inward push, yet it’s individual tendrils curve and curl within him independent of the whole. 

“More, oh god, please, please never ever ever stop.”

 A fond chuckle, “That good huh? Maybe that prophecy was wrong. Maybe what I’m supposed to do is fuck you full and then drop you in town so you can spread the word of how good my dick is. Be my consort and prophet all in one. Get everyone clamorin for the chance for me to fuck them.”

“No” Indrid squirms, petulant, “you’re my master. Not theirs.”

A louder laugh this time, “You gonna take the amount of fuckin I was supposed to do to a whole town yourself?” A tendril curls around Indrid’s aching cock. 

“Yes” He wails, rolls his hips “you may have me as often as you please, I want you too, I’ll, I’ll be your faithful servant always.”

“You’re already somethin better; you’re my ‘Drid.” Duck twists the tendril and Indrid’s lost, his orgasm knocking breath from his chest and tears from his eyes as white spatters the green of Duck’s abdomen. 

“That’s it darlin, lookit you bein so good, cummin for your master. Think it’s time for you to make good on your promise to take whatever I give you.” The tail lifts Indrid up and down as Duck cums, the monster not so much as pausing before thrusting his hips harder, “fuuuck that’s good, my perfect servant, my ‘Drid, takin me so well.”

Indrid sobs as another burst of cum enters him and a strange feeling fills his chest; he’s buzzing with blindingly bright power. It’s coming from Duck, he knows this, and in the haze of his submissive state he understands the depth of his divinity.

“Duck” he whimpers as more tentacles twist around his limbs, the god losing himself in his pursuit of pleasure, filling Indrid until his belly twinges and his eyes fight to remain open. When the god groans out the humans name a final time, Indrid is so enveloped by him he wonders if they’ll ever fully disentangle. 

The monster carries him to the washroom, Indrid still squirming on his cock, and gently pulls him free to set him in the tub. A flick of his hand fills it with warm seawater.

“You okay?”

“I doubt I will be able to walk tomorrow.” Indrid smiles to show he relishes this fact.

“Guess I’ll be spendin tomorrow waitin on you.” Duck joins him in the tub, coiling protectively around him as he washes his chest and thighs.

“I thought I was the servant here?” Indrid cuddles closer, kissing Duck on the tip of his beak.

“Nah. Far as I’m concerned, we take care of each other.”

[mikasaessucasaa]

Title: Flatlanders

Summary: After being forced to retire from singing, Sansa returns to Winterfell Ranch, a place she hasn’t called home in over ten years, and finds the man that she left behind all those years ago.

Part 1 ....

1991

Los Angeles

“Mama’s sick,” was all Arya had said, and after a year of pain and failure, Sansa knew it was time to go home after twelve long years.

She didn’t go home when Papa died. No one was stupid enough to invite her to his funeral. She was the heathen he had kicked out of the house twelve years ago. Murderer, he had called her for wanting something more than the dirt land and piles of horseshit that they called home. She had spent years mourning the price of her freedom. It was enough.

She didn’t go when Robb died last year, either. Her Mama and siblings had it in them to invite her to his funeral, but she was in surgery when they buried him. The surgery failed, and now her most beloved brother was buried under six feet of earth, and she had nothing to show for missing her goodbyes.

And Mama. Mama never did nothing wrong.

She didn’t drink. She didn’t smoke. She prayed to Papa’s God. She was good and kind, of strong southern stock. And yet she was sick.

So sick that the doctors were telling Arya and her brothers six months. Six months and that was it. Say your goodbyes. Say your prayers. There won’t be any more chances afterwards.

Sansa could spit. Goodbyes and prayers never did nothing for her.

It wasn’t fair.

It never was.

So she sold her condo and most of her things, packed her bags, didn’t tell her friends she was leaving, without knowing if she would ever come back.

This was a kind of mourning too.

DFW, TX

Arya picked her up in a big red truck at the airport, a week after telling her the news.

They talked some over the years. It felt like the strain between them had lightened when Sansa left home. She stopped feeling so jealous of the freedom her little sister had just for the luck of having been born after Sansa. And she knew Arya had always been proud of her for pursuing something selfishly for herself, even if Sansa and Papa never got along again before he passed.

But Sansa hasn’t stepped foot in Texas since she was exiled. She hasn’t physically seen her family beyond the pictures Arya would send to her once a year. And now it felt like her family was disappearing before her.

Sansa cranked her window down as they headed North. Damn truck didn’t have AC, and the summer heat was killing her. And by winter Mama’s sickness would kill her.

“How’s Mama?”

“Ain’t good. She won’t listen to the doc and take her medicines. Says if she’s gonna go, she wants to be lucid for it.”

“But what about her pain?”

“She don’t want nothin’ strong, so the doc’s got her on some weak crud. Says if the Lord’s calling her home now, it’s only to be with Papa sooner.”

“Crazy old woman,” Sansa whispered under her breath.

But Arya heard and laughed. “You know Mama.”

She didn’t really, not anymore.

Mama called her too, over the twelve years.

But Mama picked a side, and it wasn’t Sansa’s.

There were a lot of things Mama didn’t want to know for the sake of being loyal to Papa. She didn’t want to know if Sansa was successful, wanted to pretend that the songs on the radio weren’t hers, didn’t want to pretend she was suffering either. So she ended up knowing nothing.

And maybe Sansa was the same about not wanting to know about life in Winterfell without her.

“Bran and Rickon?”

“Home for the summer.”

Bran must have skipped an internship this summer up in Boston to be home with Mama. Such a shame. Bran was such a smart kid, getting into Harvard and everything. Mama wouldn’t want him home just to watch her suffer if it meant that Bran would fall behind. Not that Sansa knew any better what key milestones college students had, having never gone to college herself. But Bran was the best out of her family to keep her informed with his life. So for a moment she could pretend that she was a good older sister.

“How are they?”

“You know – old enough to know what’s going on and to have seen it twice now, young enough to keep asking why it keeps happening to us.”

She was most worried about Rickon. He had just started school down in Austin and started learning what it meant to be without Mama, and now he’ll have to learn how to be without her forever.

“And you?”

“Old enough to stop asking why things happen and just accept it.”

Sansa tapped on the window frame.

She hasn’t seen Arya in person in a long time, but Sansa knew that she was lying. Arya had always been the angriest out of all of them. Deep down she knew Arya was raging at the unfairness of it all. But there was nothing either of them could do about the outrage inside of them, so they bottled it up, like they were always taught to.

Sansa was happy to let the silence between them last the rest of the ride to Winterfell, but Arya wasn’t.

“Jon’s around too, if you cared.”

“I don’t.”

“But if you did, you should know that he’s finally joined his papa’s club.” The Valyrian Dragons.

Sansa tapped against the window frame faster.

She had always hoped that when she left him, Jon would get away from the life that his papa had always wanted for him.

“That’s too bad.”

“Ain’t it though? Reckon he’s poised to take over the whole damn thing soon.”

“What about Aegon?”

“Baratheon got to him.”

Robert Baratheon’s been out to get the Targaryens ever since Rhaegar Targaryen made a mistress of his childhood love, Lyanna Snow, and it only escalated when Joffrey made a fool out of himself and decided to fuck with the Dragons and got himself killed.

Baratheon wasn’t even part of an MC, but he was a rich bastard – only reason Cersei ever came south to marry him. He had plenty of oil money to hire monsters to do his dirty work. Probably hired the Mountain to off Aegon.

“That’s too bad.” Unable to help herself, she asked, “Jon still got Ygritte hoverin’ over him?”

Arya shook her head. “Worse, Stormborn.”

Sansa had a lot of things she could say about Dany when she was in high school, most of them unkind, which is why she kept them all to herself like her Mama had taught her.

“Bless his heart.”

“Exactly.”

Winterfell, TX

The ranch looked older than Sansa remembered it, but otherwise everything was in the right place. The door to the house opened before Sansa could even get out of the car, and Mama rushed out to hold her tightly in her arms.

“Mama,” Sansa muttered into the crook of her neck. “Didn’t the doctor say you should stay in bed?”

“Bah what the doc said. The man’s full of crock. I feel fine.”

But she didn’t feel fine in Sansa’s arms. Mama was so tiny and frail. She had never seen her so fragile.

Mama had always been a domineering presence in Sansa’s mind, as big as Papa in presence, if not in stature. And now she was so little. It broke her heart.

Arya grunted as she passed by the two of them. “That’s fine, don’t help with the million bags that you somehow thought was a good idea to bring. I’ve totally got it.”

Sansa snorted and pulled away from Mama. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” The ranch was strangely quiet. “Where are the ranch hands anyways?”

Mama shook her head. “Haven’t been doing too well these last couple of years, with these big chains comin' in and buyin' up land and selling the cattle much cheaper. Can’t afford to have the ranch hands around everyday of the week.”

Sansa stiffened. “Mama, are you in trouble?”

“Less me, more the ranch. After all, can’t take the ranch with me when I’m dead.”

Sansa let out a stiff breath. “It’s fine. We’ll figure it out. If nothing else, we can always sell the ranch.”

Mama gave Sansa a harsh look. “This ranch is your Papa’s legacy.”

Yeah, well they hadn’t exactly gotten along in the last twelve years, and he wasn’t exactly around to fight for it, but still held her tongue and repeated, “We’ll figure it out.”

Sansa always did.

Part 2

[megashadowdragon]

Love is the bane of honor

I think Aegon's role narratively is "don't put all your faith in perfect kings", especially not a kid. It's all about the pressure of being a hereditary ruler, the pressure of duty, of others' expectations being placed on a child solely due to his birthright, and of a life sacrificed to duty.

"He is here. Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them."

What Varys has said is all about Aegon ruling for others. That implies serious self-sacrifice. But is Aegon truly fit for this? Note how Varys never speaks of love, it's all about Aegon being raised to fulfill his duty, and one that has been placed on him based on his supposed birthright by others, which to us readers is uncertain to begin with and could even become uncertain to Aegon himself at some point.

"Jon, did you ever wonder why the men of the Night's Watch take no wives and father no children?" Maester Aemon asked.

Jon shrugged. "No." He scattered more meat. The fingers of his left hand were slimy with blood, and his right throbbed from the weight of the bucket.

"So they will not love," the old man answered, "for love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."

We have here the literal kryptonite to Varys' expectations.

Aegon is still young and we have no indication he has any experience with women other than being raised by a septa, which considering the faith's tenants has served the opposite interest.

Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature

Arianne, a very intimidating woman, is coming to push herself onto Aegon, yet Aegon's entourage believed the support of Dorne was expected due to their existing blood ties to Aegon, not thanks to a new union between Aegon and a Dornish princess, a union which would also alter Doran's current plans which did not factor in Aegon at all.

A union to Aegon, from Doran's perspective, might also cast uncertainty into the master-strategist's mind; what will Dorne do when the real dragons come? And what if Dany's entourage sends a letter to Dorne along with Quentyn's body, telling them the prince was burned by the dragons he tried to steal? Would Arianne and the Sand Snakes believe it at all, especially if Arianne is trying to put herself between Aegon and Daenerys?

Daenerys on the other hand is preferred by Connington, who says the prince must hold off on any marriage as she may yet come, and he holds no found memories of Elia Martell, which might tarnish his view of Arianne no matter how "healthy" she might appear:

A bride for our bright prince. Jon Connington remembered Prince Rhaegar's wedding all too well. Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon's birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward.

"Daenerys Targaryen may yet come home one day," Connington told the Halfmaester. "Aegon must be free to marry her."

"My lord knows best," said Haldon. "In that case, we might consider offering potential friends a lesser prize."

Pushing lesser prizes onto Dorne is unlikely to be well received, chiefly by Arianne herself.

Connington is trying to shield the prince from doubt:

"I like the sound of that. My army." A smile flashed across his face, then vanished. "Are they, though? They're sellswords. Yollo warned me to trust no one."

"There is wisdom in that," Griff admitted. It might have been different if Blackheart still commanded, but Myles Toyne was four years dead, and Homeless Harry Strickland was a different sort of man. He would not say that to the boy, however. That dwarf had already planted enough doubts in his young head. "Not every man is what he seems, and a prince especially has good cause to be wary … but go too far down that road, and the mistrust can poison you, make you sour and fearful."

Yet Connington is joined by Tyrion's proposal, even if unknowingly, to wait for Daenerys:

"You do not need to win," Tyrion told him. "All you need to do is raise your banners, rally your supporters, and hold, until Daenerys arrives to join her strength to yours."

Tyrion sold the idea to Aegon as follows:

"I told you, I know our little queen. Let her hear that her brother Rhaegar's murdered son is still alive, that this brave boy has raised the dragon standard of her forebears in Westeros once more, that he is fighting a desperate war to avenge his father and reclaim the Iron Throne for House Targaryen, hard-pressed on every side … and she will fly to your side as fast as wind and water can carry her. You are the last of her line, and this Mother of Dragons, this Breaker of Chains, is above all a rescuer. The girl who drowned the slaver cities in blood rather than leave strangers to their chains can scarcely abandon her own brother's son in his hour of peril. And when she reaches Westeros, and meets you for the first time, you will meet as equals, man and woman, not queen and supplicant. How can she help but love you then, I ask you?"

The temptation is that of a mother figure and a rescuer who would fly to him like the wind, her brother's son, a boy becoming a man. Similarly, agreeing to this would place trust in his father-figure's plan. There is reassurance in taking this road, the one of parents he never had.

One way or another, Aegon must chose, at a time when war rages. But there is much room for doubt to keep him undecided, and if word reaches them that Daenerys has hurriedly flown away on her Dragon, could it be that Tyrion and Connington were right? Is the Mother of Dragons flying to the prince as fast as wind can carry her?

Aegon might hear the echo of Tyrion's words:

"Your father knew the dangers of being overbold."

The prince stared at the playing board. "My dragon—"

"—is too far away to save you. You should have moved her to the center of the battle."

Wait, and wait, and wait, but the war does not.

The death of duty

As the pressure mounts on Aegon to either keep on waiting for Daenerys or secure an alliance with Dorne, will Aegon break? And more importantly, if he does, how?

What if this is exactly what happened with Rhaegar? What if Rhaegar buckled under all the pressure that was on him? From prophecies to the duty of kingship.

"Lingering here will never bring it any closer. The sooner we take our leave of this place—"

"I know. I do." Dany did not know how to make him see. She wanted Westeros as much as he did, but first she must heal Meereen. "Ninety days is a long time. Hizdahr may fail. And if he does, the trying buys me time. Time to make alliances, to strengthen my defenses, to—"

"And if he does not fail? What will Your Grace do then?"

"Her duty." The word felt cold upon her tongue. "You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?"

The old knight hesitated. "Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her."

That answer from Jorah is fairly clear; Rhaegar married Elia out of duty, and maybe a hint of prophecy for all we know. He did not do so out of love.

Remember, Rhaegar thought he was expected to become a warrior. So we have another self-sacrifice for duty's sake:

"As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father's knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, 'I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.'"

And there is another hint that Rhaegar may have wanted to move away from the pressure of ruling, although a subtle one that remains to be cleared up:

Prince Rhaegar shook his head. "My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour."

Jaime's anger had risen up in his throat. "I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard."

"Then guard the king," Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. "When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey."

Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime's shoulder. "When this battle's done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but . . . well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return."

But love is the bane of honor, the death of duty:

"Swords win battles," Ser Jorah said bluntly. "And Prince Rhaegar knew how to use one."

"He did, ser, but . . . I have seen a hundred tournaments and more wars than I would wish, and however strong or fast or skilled a knight may be, there are others who can match him. A man will win one tourney, and fall quickly in the next. A slick spot in the grass may mean defeat, or what you ate for supper the night before. A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory." He glanced at Ser Jorah. "Or a lady's favor knotted round an arm."

So I posit that the fear of it all frightened Rhaegar into the arms of Lyanna, who similarly ran from a duty imposed on her in marrying Robert, and as the war began to rage on both escaped away from it all to the Tower of Joy.

Kill the boy and let the man be born

Many wonder what Arys Oakheart's narrative point was. He is a good example of a man who struggled between love and duty.

You know I have no other woman. Only... duty.

Which led him to his death:

Arys, my sweet knight, why did you do it? You should have yielded. I tried to tell you, but the words caught in my mouth. You gallant fool, I never meant for you to die, or for Myrcella...

I believe that as history seems to so often repeat itself in the world of Ice and Fire, Aegon will flee into the arms of love. But whose' love?

Come break of day, they were off again. Elia Sand led the way, her black braid flying behind her as she raced across the dry, cracked plains and up into the hills. The girl was mad for horses, which might be why she often smelled like one, to the despair of her mother. Sometimes Arianne felt sorry for Ellaria. Four girls, and every one of them her father's daughter.

Elia Sand, who bears the name of Aegon's mother, is similar in more ways than one to Lyanna Stark.

"We will see about that." Valena wheeled her big red around and put her heels into him, and the race was on, through the dusty lanes of the village at the bottom of the hill, as chickens and villagers alike scrambled out of their path. Arianne was three horse lengths behind by the time she got her mare up to a gallop, but had closed to one halfway up the slope. The two of them were side-by-side as they thundered towards the gatehouse, but five yards from the gates Elia Sand came flying from the cloud of dust behind them to rush past both of them on her black filly.

"Are you half horse, child?" Valena asked, laughing, in the yard. "Princess, did you bring a stable girl?"

"I'm Elia," the girl announced. "Lady Lance."

Lyanna was also a horse-rider:

Arya was breathing hard herself then. She knew the fight was done. "You ride like a northman, milady," Harwin said when he'd drawn them to a halt. "Your aunt was the same. Lady Lyanna."

And she was literally said to be "half a horse"

Horses … the boy was mad for horses, Lady Dustin will tell you. Not even Lord Rickard's daughter could outrace him, and that one was half a horse herself.

And similarly to Elia, Lyanna could fight:

"Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it.

And we have this in Bran's vision:

Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn't be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout.

Elia can joust, and we all know that the Knight of the Laughing Tree is believed by many to have been Lyanna:

"I am almost a woman grown, ser," she responded haughtily. "I'll let you spank me, though... but first you'll need to tilt with me, and knock me off my horse."

"We are on a ship, and without horses," Joss replied.

"And ladies do not joust," insisted Ser Garibald Shells, a far more serious and proper young man than his companion.

"I do. I'm Lady Lance."

Arianne had heard enough. "You may be a lance, but you are no lady. Go below and stay there till we reach land."

Note the point earlier where Elia surprises Arianne by racing ahead of her? It is a very tempting hint that Elia will steal Arianne's place and become Aegon's love interest, one no one is pushing on him. Her playful and courageous nature might attract him, comfort him at a time of incredible pressure, just as Lyanna may have with Rhaegar before.

But Rhaegar in the end found his courage, and went into battle. He killed the boy to let the man be born. And died.

"Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?"

"That is the only time a man can be brave," his father told him.

But the question, what bravery will Aegon be pushed into?

"Your father knew the dangers of being overbold."

I won't theorize on what Aegon might throw his courage at here, as the above might bring enough down-votes on its own. I'll just say that Elia, the lance-wielder, has a strong connection to Aegon already:

"Vengeance for Oberyn and Elia."

"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne"

"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."

TLDR: Aegon's and Elia Sands' story parallels Rhaegar and Lyanna's, and will end tragically. “

[ashleyfanfic]

See, what we’re not going to do is act like Daenerys Targaryen is only her last act. We’re also not going to pretend that her burning King’s Landing made any kind of sense. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a thousand times, it would have made more sense for someone like CERSEI to go crazy because of bells. Not Daenerys. Cersei who was hounded down the streets by Unella shouting SHAME! And how fucking horrible was it that Cersei was punished in such a way and yet the man she was doing this with, Jaime, got away scott free. Not only that, Jaime got another woman and then went back to Cersei and everything was just forgiven. Excuse me while I throw up. My Cersei would have tried to kill him cause that’s the vengeful bitch she is and that’s why I love to hate her. 

On the other side of that coin, you had Daenerys. Dany who freed slaves even after she was tricked by one of the slaves she tricked. Dany who tried to make the most of her life after her brother fucking sold her for an army he didn’t even get! Dany who negotiated to free Missandei before she ever gave them the dragon. Dany who freed the Unsullied with her own wits and cunning. She out thought the men in her employ. She followed her own instincts. It was Dany who freed Yunkai and was called Mhysa (which I will remind you means MOTHER). Dany who took over Meereen and instead of going to Westeros, she stayed to make sure the people didn’t go back to slavery. She even listened to one of the former slaves argue that he wanted to go back to being a slave because he liked teaching and it was the only way he could still keep his job. She LISTENED and even though she hated it, she allowed him to do as he wished. She’s the same woman who locked up her own dragons after the bones of one child was laid at her feet. With no proof other than charred bones. She protected people for as long as she could in the best way she could. She killed the Khals (who freaking deserved to die) and took in the Khalasar then freed Meereen for good. She treated with Yara and Theon, even though they had a smaller armada and made an alliance with them. She made an alliance with Ellaria and Olenna. And let’s face it, if Olenna thought that Daenerys was dangerous for the seven kingdoms, she wouldn’t have backed her no matter what Varys said. 

Then we have Jon Snow who came to her and admittedly, they might have been attracted to one another when they met, but they also frustrated each other. Dany eventually won him over to her side by being the person she is, dedicating herself to a cause that cost her one of the things that meant the most to her. She pledged herself and her people to a battle that they hoped they would win, but who really thought they could? And it was Jon’s choice to bend the knee. She was willing to go North and fight the dead without any sort of declaration from him. Because Dany was a bigger picture person. Once she saw it, she knew the truth. The Iron Throne was important, but defeating the dead was more important. 

Yeah, they had Dany go mad. What would have happened in Tyrion had kept his damn mouth closed. He knew that Varys was already looking sideways at Daenerys and he just pushed him over the edge. I don’t know that Dany actually had Varys’ loyalty. I think it was more he went with Tyrion to Essos because he couldn’t stay in Westeros after helping Tyrion. The Lannister’s wouldn’t have let that go. Jaime knew that Varys was helping him escape, so he’d have someone to point the finger at. Varys went to her because she was his ONLY option. He acquired her two powerful allies and because of that, she gave him a small chance. She didn’t have to, she could have had him killed immediately, but she didn’t. She allowed him to live and be part of her council. And he turned on her the first chance he got. Missandei died, Rhaegal died, Jorah died. Tyrion, Varys, and even Jon betrayed her. Some crimes more heinous than others. At the end, her grief and pain ruled. That’s it. She wasn’t mad. How many times did people tell us “she’s not her father”. Because she’s not and pretending like she is doesn’t make it true. 

Jon didn’t give Dany a choice. He didn’t tell her we’re going to put you on trial OR you can abdicate. He didn’t tell her if you do this then I have to do this. He became one of the things he hated. He watched a city be slaughtered. But at no point did he make a true plea to understand her, to even really talk to her. Tyrion was upset as he’d just seen that his brother and sister died together as well as what happened to the city. To think that it didn’t have some place in what happened would be foolish. “Ask me again in ten years” is the most disgusting line in the entire series of the show because it’s such bullshit. If you didn’t know that killing her was right, why send Jon to do it?

Anyway, as I said, we’re not going to pretend like that last season made sense. I knew when they let Arya kill the NK that things were going to go bonkers. I just didn’t realize that on the way out the writers would destroy every single character. Tyrion, Dany, Jon, Arya, Sansa, Jaime, Brienne, and even Cersei. The real disservice is to the fanbase of that show. It was the most popular show on TV and they ruined the potential rewatch value that people would have. 

I was talking to a co-worker yesterday about the show. She was like “I heard such good things about it” and I was like “Watch it but skip the last season. It’s awful.” Now she’s not going to watch it because she doesn’t want to get invested in a show that ends badly. That’s what they did. I would have sung it’s praises from here to kingdom come, but no. Now I will tell everyone I come into contact with not to waste their time. That’s the legacy of game of thrones. That’s what we’re left with. 

[gotgifsandmusings]

A Wedding in Sunspear: Dany IV gifcap

Tumblr filters think they can censor this work of art?! Welllll it’s back, along with my original intro from 2018, starting below!

Before I attempt to gifcap the latest beautiful, heart-stopping, breathtaking, life-changing chapter of A Wedding in Sunspear, Julia’s thematically deep and dramatically satisfying pre-canon canon-compliant ASOIAF fic Austen meets Martin in Dorne and has a culture clash baby... I need to Martell shame myself. She posted it at the end of May, and it’s a goddamn Dany Gargalen chapter! What the hell, me?? A job and adjustment in a new city is no excuse!!

However, she celebrated a birthday the other day, so between that and a very Canadian harvest celebration that occurred today, I can post this gifcap without it feeling too arbitrary! Hopefully you find it entertaining, though please be sure to read the darn thing first!

Where we last left Dany...

Yup, she and Maron in their half-fucking state were discovered by Loree, setting off a chain if events wherein Olenna ate pie, the groom threw a shit fit over not marrying a virgin, Loree had to pull rank on her husband-to-be which includes but is not limited to an order not to give him any more alcohol across all of Dorne, Maron fucked a sex worker because he was so upset about his commitment to Dany not being taken seriously, and Ormond got pocket-vetoed by his friend with benefits.

That takes us to the night before the wedding, where Dany is crammed into a bed with with six other ladies.

Shockingly, she wakes up a bit before morning. Even more shockingly, Loree is already up and staring out the window.

It’s the FREAKING TITULAR WEDDING, GUYS!

Dany wants to go talk to Loree, but freezes for a second. You see, she had spent a whole day mad at her cousin, and in 15-year-old language, that’s basically a decade.

However, cooler heads have prevailed. You know, heads belonging to Joleta and Maron of all people. And they both think as long as Dany holds her ground, Loree will give in.

So Dany decides to confront Loree, where she’ll be ~firm~ and not emotional. Loree will clearly give in.

She subtly lets Loree know she’s there

Loree tells her she should still be asleep, which is pretty rich considering she’s all:

Apparently it was quality time for herself. Dany realizes it’s a hint for her to leave, but she’s just so thrilled to have caught her alone that she’s sure this is a good time to press the Maron issue.

She tells Loree she gets why she said what she did, and Loree is pretty impressed.

Dany’s a bit miffed by that reaction, but tells her cousin eventually she’ll see how serious she and Maron are about each other, and that this wasn’t just a young flight of fancy.

But Loree’s all

Dany takes this with much aplomb.

She insists that they’re in love and she wants his babies. Loree tells her that’s not how this goes.  

So Dany’s like

And Loree’s basically, “yeah. We’re in the same boat.”

Dany really has no come back to this, so she points out how shitty Eliott’s been, and how Loree shouldn’t be fine marrying this dude.

But Loree won’t raise her hand, because duty. Instead she’s points out he has some positives...somewhere...

Dany’s like, “you’re just not into him because of HENRICK.”

Also that she was happy. Loree isn’t sold.

She calls it a mistake, and when Dany presses the matter more, Loree says that indulging her feelings was the mistake, since she knew it was a weakness from the start.

Dany tells her it would have been brave to stay with Henrick, just like Prince Duncan was.

Sadly, there’s a great counter example in the shape of Prince Daeron that’s been hanging around this whole time.

Dany maintains that they will sing songs about Jenny for years, but Loree’s just like, “yeah those aren’t the songs I want sung about me, and I hope you feel the same.” Dany’s brain is just kinda

But there’s no real comeback. So she just says Loree hates herself and is trying to bully Dany into agreeing to feel better. Which mildly breaks her cousin.

Trystana fortunately comes bursting into the room, yelling about how they didn’t sleep, and there’s tons to do, and they both need to get ready.

Dany is pushed into the fastest bath ever along with the other ladies, and barely dressed before it’s time for breakfast.

Of course Loree’s already there with her hair perfectly done, since she gets a bit of priority.

But Dany’s just fuming because she can tell Loree is faking all her wedding-day happiness.

She tries to make best of this inane chatter, though Lysanne Manwoody talks about how excited she is to see the Reachmen react to Loree’s not 100% chaste dress. All the women then talk about how nice their packages look.

Trystana kind of fakes outrage at this, and points out that she “felt the solemnity” of her wedding.

Loree immediately stops smiling, while her mom is just like, “Yeah, that’s our gregarious Loree.”

However Dany sees this as a great opportunity to push her point more, and is like, “Yeah it’s so serious and holy and should be 100% what someone wants or else they’re lying to the GODS.”

Loree just responds with, “Oh I agree and I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

She goes off to get ready with that, as does everyone else.

And of course, Loree is totally understated when all is said and done.

Though she has a moment where it looks like she’s about to cry, so Lenelle orders everyone else out.

Joleta’s just like, “yeah obviously she’s panicking..” So everyone has to sit outside the door and pretend this isn’t a very transparent thing that’s happening.

However, finally Loree calls out that she’s ready.

Elda and Genna spread the train out, and all six women need to help lift the stupid thing, like they spent hours practicing.

Though somehow Trystana still feels the need to remind Dany not to let it touch the ground.

Of course stairs are the worst bit of it all

They all pause in front of the Tower of the Sun, because of course the stupid thing needs minute adjustments, but Loree puts a stop to it after a point.

So they head through for even more stairs leading to the courtyard, where a crazy amount of people are there to catch a glimpse.

It’s very quiet, which oddly reminds Dany of her Grandma Dany’s funeral. It’s almost like giant spectacles have similar levels of stress and no actual enjoyment for those involved...

The smallfolk are into it though, chucking flowers at Loree as they all make their way down the path towards Nymeria’s Sept.

When they get there, there was so much incense that Dany can barely make out the altars.

Other great ladies are there to pray with Loree, including Olenna and Friend Besto

Eliott’s mom Serra is there, a reader favorite after her wonderful “how to make marital rape pleasant” speech!

She tells Loree she looks “As lovely as the Maid Herself.”

It’s time for everyone to pray, so Dany of course decides to pray for the most important thing she can think of:

And apparently they pray for like..an hour? Even Rhona seems restless, of all people.

After a certain point...maybe another hour...Loree even seems to be nodding off (or passing out from the overwhelming incense).

So Lenelle calls over a septon, who proclaims a blessing, mercifully putting a stop to it all. They all get up, with everyone’s legs having lost circulation.

What a romantic affair!

They head out of the sept to the courtyard again, though most smallfolk left to line the streets. However here comes the real hurtle: get Loree and her giant dress into the litter. So Elda and Genna just scrunch it up and throw it in.

Everyone else has to cram in as well.

Trystana tries to get Loree to eat, but she just gives it all to Dany.

Aaand they move, and are soon on the streets where, you guessed it: even more people are waiting to call Loree’s name and greet her. So she pulls back the curtain so everyone can see how happy she is.

NOW IT’S OVER!

[jonstarks]

You linked to an article you said was pro Jonsa. How should we look at the other parts of the article that weren't so hopeful? "Sansa has learned to be duplicitous, withholding and open to compromise." Duplicitous and withholding isn't great. And before we say "oh that was the journalist's spin", Sophie herself said Sansa withheld the info about the Vale because she wanted the glory for herself. And Kit said in your article that Sansa was a "big problem" for Jon. (part 1)

part 2: Everyone hangs on to that one quote of Kit’s about Jon manipulating people. But then we dismiss practically everything else he, Sophie, the directors, D&D and the everyone else say. I don’t think this works.

Sansa is a “BIG PROBLEM” for Jon because she challenge him, also, in the same article, Kit said that she know she is much smarter than Jon in many ways, and in behind the scene of BoB he said that Jon BIGGEST mistake that season was not listening to her, so I don’t think challenge him to be a better leader is the worst thing ever, unless you were a wimp.  

“Sansa has learned to be duplicitous, withholding and open to compromise.” The full paragraph of that sentence was: “Sansa has proven to be a wily survivor, despite repeated abuse, and even orchestrated a major battlefield victory last season. Their ways of managing challenges couldn’t be more opposite, though. Jon emerged from his harrowing experiences more straightforward and unbending than ever, whereas Sansa has learned to be duplicitous, withholding and open to compromise. first of all, I couldn’t see anything wrong about this (and no, I don’t see this as a journalist trying to spin thing, that wasn’t my style) Sansa and Jon facing their problems and cope with their past traumatic experience in a different way and I don’t see it as a negative thing, for each characters or for jonsa. After season 7 (or for me, before that) we knew that sansa would never betrayed her family, even before she team up with arya and bran, she always prioritize Jon, it was always about Jon’s army, how could she keep Jon’s people loyal to him, how to convince his people to not shifting their allegiance to her, so IF sansa learn to be duplicitous, withholding and open to compromise, she’s not going to do that behind Jon again, not after we need to trust each other scene, not after Jon blindsided her by giving her the North, a complete full trust to her, so if sansa would act “sneaky” or grey-ish, she would do it to keep Jon safe, to keep her family safe, to keep her people safe, and it’s not going to happen behind him. Sansa weren’t just a Disney character who all sweet and nice, she play the big games, she band together with her sibling to take down the biggest player, the most dangerous man in westeros, in case you still didn’t get it, she’s smart, and even with her past abusive experience, she still maintain her courtesy and her kindness, she didn’t just execute people who disagree with her, she even still show compassion when she execute LF (unlike some of other character… *coughs* dany *coughs*).

“But then we dismiss practically everything else he, Sophie, the directors, D&D and the everyone else say.” who was we in this conversation? because I didn’t just dismiss anything that cast and crew said. there are the difference between take an information and use it carefully and completely ignoring the whole truth just to fit with your opinion, what I did was using Kit interview and matched with show canon, why was that not working?  Also, I’m tired of people mentioned “cast and crew say this…there are an interview about this that make your interview invalid and bla bla bla bla” but didn’t put the link of said interview, what am I suppose to do with that? it was just the same as if some anti jonsa said that “you are delusional!” “your ship is a crackship!” but never add anything to it.  

Sophie herself said Sansa withheld the info about the Vale because she wanted the glory for herself. If you are a fan of sophie, then you would know that sophie said a lot of thing, sophie also said that if jon and sansa meshed together, they’ll rule the westeros, she also said that Jon or Sansa should sit on the IT, she also said she wants Jaime Lannister  sit on the IT and in another time she wants LF to sit on the IT, that girl said a lot of thing to confused the audience (and so does some of the cast and crew member) then how could you tell what is troll and not? BY WATCHING THE FRICKIN SHOW. Sansa said that Jon should stay in the Lord chamber and she fucking said that Jon is a Stark to her! (I don’t think there were any Stark that ever said that to him, not even ned when he said you may not have my name, but you have my blood.) Lyanna M. named Jon KitN and not Sansa, and she fricking smile until LF proof to be a threat to them, still not believe it? Then watch season 7, when all the Lords getting restless, she convinced them that Jon did his best, Jon is our King. The only time she ever mentioned about the KotV was when arya fall into LF trap and using her letter to threatened her, she mentioned how she win the battle with the KotV because she need to proof herself to arya that she loyal to the starks, and if the letter fall into the wrong person, it would not just jeopardize sansa position, but also can cost Jon’s army and men, all of them would march back if they ever find out about this (this is not my just opinion, this thing did happen in the show when sansa predict this as she called a northerners as a bloody wind vanes) Sansa’s first priority was to keep Jon’s people stay and fight for the great war, and arya (or D&D awful script) didn’t help her at all, Sansa was alone again after Jon left winterfell, she may have brienne but brienne swore to protect both of them and she afraid LF might use her to eliminate arya, so she send her to KL. Do you think protecting yourself and your family by using a fact to pointed out your loyalty to the Stark was wrong? I don’t think so. Also before that, when maester wolkan give a scroll to Jon but didn’t greet sansa, (like she was invisible) she didn’t throw a fit, like, that maester was fucking rude to her and she didn’t say anything! Do you still think her as a person who like to take credit? I think you might confuse one character with another. 

You need to be a smart audience, learn the timeline between each interview, (like: was this article referring to the event of season 6 or 7 or 8? Or what type of hype the show runner trying to boost? was that hype relevant and make sense to the story or not?) and learn to tell a difference between the real, honest interview and troll interviews, sophie once said that she wants LF to be on the IT, she

also

hyping up about starkbowl, (so does Kit when he said he wants to kill sansa, but before you jump to conclusion, it was just a game and you don’t need to get your knicker twist about that) but after s7 when a LF stan come up to her and told how ungrateful sansa for killing LF her mentor and protector, sophie fiercely said that LF was nothing but an evil opportunist, he sold sansa and use her for his own gain. (if someone could put a link on sophie’s tweet about that I’ll be forever grateful) Again, you need to get your fact check before you jump to any conclusion.

One last thing, I didn’t just use a random Jon’s gifs to support my KH interview quotes, Kit said about how sansa the only one that could twists jon like that, and I use every jonsa scenes with jon looking shook, infuriated, and nervous, i didn’t even use some of it (like the one when sansa cut ser royce in council meeting, or in reunion when sansa want to take WF) because I’m just too lazy and there are too many jonsa moments to giffed and too little time for me to do it. I’m using a REAL interview with a REAL source and a REAL scenes from the show, if other people could post a single gif of dumbfounded Hannah Murray as a proof to invalidate jonsa, then why couldn’t I use an article of KH with supporting evidence from the show to validate jonsa? At least it wasn’t a fake KH BBC Radio interview, or a fake GRRM interview, or a fake Michelle Clapton interview, or a fake outline, or a fake jonsa blog, and frankly, it wasn’t a place for you to say if an article might or might not work for me, I’m talking about what validate my ship, and if you don’t agree with that, then just move a long, don’t read it, don’t follow me, block me, idgaf.

link to my post I link to the article

[theonceoverthinker]

My Weekend At Once Con (Part 1)

...All I can say is wow. ...Just WOW. I'm sitting at my desk at work, just trying to figure out how the hell I'm supposed to go back to normal after this weekend. I'm equally parts at peace, freaking out, and so tired that I'm ready to crash and burn. And I'll tell you all why. ()()()()()()()()()()()()() About Me ()()()()()()()()()()()()() Before I start, I feel like to really understand my feelings about this con, you need to know a little bit about me first. That said, I'll make it fast because I know that's not what you're here for. 1. I'm the weirdest mix of introvert and extrovert that you can imagine. I want to talk to everyone, but at the same time, I'm so freaked out by it, but at the same time, I'll actually do it and jump in. 2. I'm what I call an omnishipper. If it's not incestual, I ship it at least a little. That said, I don't love all ships equally. I play favorites, and can even rank them per character. For example, I like Swan Queen, but I like Captain Swan and Dragon Queen a lot more. I like Violet Believer, but I like Henriella more. You get the drift. 3. I'm pretty positive about the show, and unless it's coming from a place of love, I hate saltiness, towards the writers, towards the characters, etc. I have likes, dislikes, and concerns of course, but there’s a line that I just don’t care to cross where it stops being fun, 4. I say I'm sorry way too much. 5. I recorded hours and hours of audio and video footage. It is all pretty flawed, but I promise, it's real. 6. Now, I'm going to reference questions, but I'm going to specifically focus on mine, since this is my con experience I'm reporting about. Look, I'm biased. It's human nature, and I'm literally writing this less than 24 hours after getting back.That said, if another question or comment really spoke to me, I'll do my best to include it here. Also, I'm doing my best to quote my questions from what I actually said, using the questions as I originally wrote them as well as my own memories, but I'm not trudging through my footage to get them. 7. Apart from Once, I've never really seen the special guests in other works. I saw Jen's play, The End of Longing back in May, but that was about it. This convention has convinced me to go forward and watch more of their works!

Okay, no more waiting! Here we go!!!

()()()()()()()()()()()()() Thursday ()()()()()()()()()()()()() I drove to the con on Thursday. I took a half day at work to finish packing and wait for my carpool buddy. We'd met on a Facebook page called "Once Upon a Time NJ Con," a Wall Street of sorts for the convention run by two lovely ladies. If you're looking to go next year, I can't stress enough just how good this page was. We arrived that evening for preregistration, and after my own adventures in the hotel down the road, I was all ready to get going. My roommate for the evening and I were on line, and already, there was so much excitement to be had. I met a beautiful young woman with crimson hair and a beautiful Swan Queen necklace who had Steven Universe buttons (A rare crossover of fandoms), and after we talked, I affectionately called her "Buttons" for the entire weekend. I entered the vendors room and took it all in. I immediately scoped out everything that I wanted, promising myself that I wouldn't spend too much money. ...You'll see how that ended up later. Thinking quickly, I immediately bought a Captain Swan shirt. There was a mug that looked like Henry's book that I promised myself I would buy on Sundays, but that was it. Don't get me wrong: I WANTED other stuff. The artwork table looked so nice, but I was sure I'd be selling my life savings for it (Something I was proven wrong about on the car ride home). Also, there was a big model of Emma's bug also available for purchase, but for like $50. It's funny because I was actually about to give my model of the bug (which was about 1/10 of the size of the one available here) to a Tumblr friend who I had grown really close to over the course of six months. Really, there wasn't much to say after that. Once my roommate and I had our fill of the Vendor's Room, we headed back to our room, chilled out, and then went to sleep, eager for the con to truly begin. ()()()()()()()()()()()()() Friday ()()()()()()()()()()()()() I've always been an early bird. That wasn't going to be an exception here. My first event wasn't until noon, but I was up at seven, and out the door by eight-thirty. My roommate, or at this point, ex-roommate, and I parted ways, but promised to meet up during the con. Thankfully, this is one of those stories where that actually happens. She and I at times were each others greatest forces of support and friendship in what was already a really friendly convention. We get there, and bond with a couple of people. Eventually, I ran into my carpool buddy and her friend. We killed time talking, reading books, and examining cosplays. Michael Coleman (Happy) and Chris Gauthier (Smee) passed by the lobby a few times, and I actually said hi to them, one time each. I was totally freaked out, but still, it was fantastic! Eventually, the theatre did open up, I parted ways from my friends, and went to my seat. I gotta say, knowing no one (for the moment, at least), it felt really lonely to be waiting for seatmates. Thankfully, a young teenager who had a GA ticket came by and provided a fun amount of conversation! Creation's house band Samurai Fish, accompanying Michael Coleman and eventually Gil McKinney (Eric) opened up the show. I never expected to like classic rock versions of my favorite Disney songs, but they were a lot of fun. XD Gil McKinney's panel, which I thought would originally set the stage for the rest of them, ended up, while doing it to some extent, being its own separate beast entirely, but in the best way possible. I compare it more to a stand up comedy routine than a proper panel. Gil walked around the room, commenting on guests, guessing kid's ages, losing a $20 bet that he would remember a guest's name, and even Face Timing with one of the guest's friends. I was blown away by how charming he is. There was a bit of a Q&A, but it only took up about the last five minutes of his panel. Fortunately for us con-goers, Gil would show up to a LOT more events and do a full-on Q&A the next day with Lee, Chris, and Michael. After Gil came Chris Gauthier. Let me tell you, I was hyped. I had been preparing questions for NJ con for six months now, but from the second I saw his name on the guest list, I knew what I wanted to ask. Chris' panel was more of a traditional panel with one big twist: Instead of going up to the mic, Michael, dressed as the Evil Queen (Heels included!), was going around with the mic to bring it to guests for their questions. This added a fun level of quirkiness to Chris' panel that I and the other guests really appreciated. Ready for my question? Well, at first, I wasn't. Believe it or not, I was terrified at first. But, I told myself that I wanted this and that I could do it. Michael eventually took a seat in the row in front of me, extended the mic to me, and I started to speak. "The last time Smee and Killian interacted in the present timeline, it was before Smee got his memory back and remembered that Killian sold the Jolly Roger and left his crew to go save Emma. What do you think that Smee and the rest of the crew think of their former captain now? Are they happy for his redemption or are they bitter at him for their abandonment?" Chris' response (To quote the man himself, "A little of both," and was followed by a more thorough explanation of why he thought so) was detailed, charismatic, and spoke of how much thought he puts into his character. By the end of it, I really wanted to see Smee on screen again! After Chris' panel ended, we next went into a Trivia Game. I actually participated in the last set of 30 contestants and made it to the top 15! Not half bad, especially because the question was from "Tallahassee" and Season 2 has always been my weakest season. I actually talked to two of the three winners after the contest, and both were scrambling to use their $200 winnings! XD The panels resumed at three sharp with Michael! Sadly, he was not wearing a costume, but what he lacked in that regard, he more than made up for with a bright and cheeky personality. I actually asked him, while something I never explicitly wrote out, about how he came up with the idea for the "Happy Little" series that he has been putting on for the past few conventions. He explained his reasoning in three parts, but I'll just tell you my favorite: He likes wearing dresses! The final panel of the day was the one and only Raphael Sbarge (Archie). What I like about Raphael is how he answers his questions. I'll demonstrate what I mean by discussing my own. So, my question was "In the Once Upon a Time fandom, shipping to many is as natural as breathing. However, Archie was never brought into a romantic relationship over the course of the series, or at least hasn’t been up to this point. Do you have and ideas of a character who you would have liked for him to chirp off into the sunset with?" Rapahel's response? "Who do you think he should end up with?" Now, it is definitely flustering to be asked a question in response to your own question, but give the man credit, that is brilliant when it come to responses. It does a couple of things. First, it's kind of like having a conversation with him. Raphael gets to react to what you think. Second, it buys him more time to respond, which, for a celebrity being put on the spot, is pretty clever. Now, that was the end of the panels, but not the end of the day, not by far. First came autographs. I'm going to hold all of my thoughts on autographs until the end of this series of posts, but for now, I'll say this: They were LONG. Second came...Dani. So, I've been chatting with a friend on Tumblr for close to half a year now. I always admired her posts, and we actually bonded over convention preparations. And she was coming to Jersey Con for Friday night and all of Saturday! I swear, I was just as excited to meet her as any of the celebrities appearing here. After the autographs, I messaged her to meet me in the lobby, and she responded immediately that she was on her way. And for the first time ever, we met. Readers, it felt like a scene in a movie. As soon as I saw her, I knew her, she knew me, we rushed to each other,...and we hugged. Fiction itself is seldom as beautiful.  We went up to her room, talked about a million and one things, shared stories and pictures, and then... Part three!!! You may have forgotten in all the excitement, but there was a brand new episode of Once Upon a Time!!!! It is incredible watching a show you love with someone who is as big of a fan as you. The episode in and of itself was pretty great! So, the episode ended, and with a million and one thoughts and theories, Dani and I headed down to the final portion of the day: Karaoke! Karaoke was hosted by Michael, Chris, Karen David (Jasmine), Beverly Elliot (Granny), and Gil McKinney. In it, our talented stars sang and danced alongside the lucky people chosen to sing pop, Disney, and rock songs! I had entered for Shut Up and Dance With Me, but sadly I was not selected. That said, the person chosen was quite talented. Some numbers that stuck out to me were "These Boots Were Made for Walking," "Sweet Caroline," "I Want It That Way" (Which my friend performed in), the aforementioned "Shut Up and Dance with Me," and "How Far I'll Go." The energy of the crowd was really something to see. Us Oncers definitely know how to rock a house! I bid Dani adieu and left during the final number because at that point, I was dead tired, and of course, I knew that I'd have to be at my best for everything that was to happen tomorrow... Nice cliffhanger, right? Stay tuned for Part 2!

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#I feel like the tragedy of viserys and dany is they really might have been close and loved each other normally of they'd been allowed to #barristan says viserys always seemed aerys's son but when has westeros had any sort of developed understanding of mental illness #dany knew him best and she said the last kindness left him when he sold their mother's crown #it begs the question how much kindness there would have been if they hadn't been children forced out on the streets #a brother dany says never forgave her for their mother's death giving her birth. #but who told her stories and brought her up while his own mental faculties were wearing thin #it doesn't feel like tywin keeping tyrion based on lannister name and blood alone #she loved him once. #that viserys had some inherent lecherous evil in him doesn't feel in line with that to me #it doesn't feel in line with dany please #if ned is the good guardian to tywin's bad one viserys was just a boy who found himself in that role under the worst possible circumstances #and who under duress of those awful circumstances and his own undiagnosed mental illness #(for which he never got any help or support) #failed his sister very very badly #leaving daenerys to feel the hole of his absence even when he was still alive #because she loved him. once (via @hylialeia)

you don't get it. she loved him once. she didn't have a maester, she had a brother. he sold their mother's crown to keep them fed. he said Dany, please. she loved him, once.