#good!Gregor Clegane Au

[ligawolfcosplayandarts]

I decided to add shading , so have Gregor gradually gearing up.

Let's pretend he's Gregor from Good! Mountain AU because he's smiling here. We need Good!Mountain AU just to have less dead people and smiling Mountain who wants to make up to his brother Sandor. I adore Sandor so much and in my Sandor x OC fanfic I have AU Mountain who even didn't kill Elia and her children (He told Varys to take them three, hide them far away from Lannisters and lied to Tywin that was too late to get them).

Anyway, gradual gear up.

Shirtless.

Armoured

Armoured with Helm on. 🏔️

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 6 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Six: There's Blood On The Side Of The Mountain

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Attempted Su!c!de, Idealization of Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 9.2k (I’m sorry this is so long wtf)

A/N: Istg. Make sure you read ALL the warnings! This chapter is going to be sad by the way. It’s extra sad. Keep your chin up, girl. You got this. Also, yes, ofc the song I chose would be Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo, it makes sense tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo

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KING’S LANDING, THE BATTLE PIT — DAY

From where you stand, the pit feels like a hollow reflection of King’s Landing itself—a stage for brutality, where bloodshed is applauded and violence wears the crown. Your sneer twists in disdain as you watch Ser Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane slice through a prisoner with disturbing ease, lifting the poor soul high on his greatsword. Blood streams from the prisoner’s mouth, his eyes wide in terror before The Mountain tosses him to the sand like discarded meat. The sound of his body hitting the ground is drowned out by the murmurs of the onlookers, but it echoes in your ears nonetheless.

Cersei watches, her eyes cold and calculating, as a line of prisoners stand chained, awaiting their fate. Each filthy, ragged figure, a nameless body lined up for slaughter. You feel a bitter twist in your gut—this spectacle, this violence—meant to terrify more than entertain.

One of the guards barks orders, shoving the next prisoner forward like livestock.

“Go on, move it,” the guard snaps, his tone indifferent to the man’s terror.

The prisoner stumbles forward, his trembling hands reaching for a meager weapon at his feet. You catch a glimpse of his wide, panicked eyes—he knows his fate. Still, he holds the weapon like it might mean his survival, like it might hold off the inevitable for even a few heartbeats longer. But the outcome is written in the blood that already stains the sand beneath him.

The first prisoner attacks The Mountain with desperation. He lunges, wild and reckless, but The Mountain is faster, his sword cleaving through flesh with a sickening ease. The prisoner’s body folds as he’s disemboweled in one stroke, his life ending in a gruesome heap at the giant’s feet. 

The next prisoner, shaking, drops his weapon entirely, sinking to his knees. Tears mix with the dirt on his face as he pleads for mercy.

“Mercy, please. Please, mercy,” the man cries, his voice breaking, filled with the kind of hopelessness that makes your chest tighten.

Cersei watches with an air of indifference, her lips curling ever so slightly as The Mountain delivers a series of savage overhead blows, reducing the prisoner to nothing more than a broken corpse. The sand beneath him darkens with blood, and you force yourself to keep watching, not out of morbid curiosity, but as a reminder. This is the city you’re in. These are the people who rule it.

Cersei steps forward, her gaze fixed on The Mountain. “Ser Gregor,” she says smoothly, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Welcome to the capital. Thank you for riding here so quickly.”

You note the lack of warmth in her tone, the way she speaks to him as though she were addressing a weapon, not a man. In truth, that’s exactly what The Mountain is to her—just another tool.

Cersei’s gaze flickers down to the bodies strewn about the pit. “You seem to be in good form.”

The Mountain’s reply is as cold as it is simple. “Who am I fighting?”

Cersei raises a brow, her expression as detached as ever. “Does it matter?”

The Mountain shakes his head. To him, it truly doesn’t. Flesh is flesh, no matter whose body it belongs to.

But you think otherwise.

As you stand there, your eyes narrowing at the towering figure of The Mountain, you wonder how many lives he has ruined, how many people have died in his shadow. A thought sharpens within you—among the things victims have lost, how many things can they ever truly reclaim? You can’t help but wonder if any of these prisoners were thinking the same, if their last thoughts were of the homes they’ll never return to, the families they’ve left behind.

It’s not justice they seek in these final moments. There’s no glory here. The only thing left to reclaim is their honor—what little remains of it. Some might hope for forgiveness, for mercy. But you know better. In King’s Landing, where the powerful feast on the misery of others, revenge is often the only way to regain even a fraction of that lost honor. Only then, in the pursuit of vengeance, can one truly begin again.

You look at Cersei, at The Mountain, and think to yourself, Forgiveness has no place here. Not in this city. Not when men like The Mountain are allowed to walk free, spilling blood for sport, for the amusement of those in power. No, here, revenge is the only way to claim victory, to bring balance to the scales. You keep your thoughts to yourself, but deep down, you know—glory through revenge may be the only true path to the starting point.

There are no second chances.

KING'S LANDING, TYRION'S CELL — EVENING

You knew Bronn was smart enough to fear the Mountain. One misstep, and anyone facing that monstrous man would be dead in an instant. Yet, as you moved quietly through the shadowed halls, following Oberyn down to Tyrion’s cell, an unsettling dread filled you. Oberyn had already made up his mind. His determination was palpable, and it terrified you.

You’d trained yourself to move unseen, your footsteps silent on the cold stone floors of King’s Landing. Perhaps Oberyn knew you were trailing him, but he didn’t seem to care. His confidence radiated from him like the warmth of the torch he carried, unwavering, even as you concealed yourself in the shadows.

Inside the cell, Tyrion sat in the dark, his posture heavy with defeat. The door creaked open, and you pressed yourself against the wall, listening intently.

Oberyn stepped inside, his torch casting flickering light across the damp, narrow space.

"I imagined you'd be back at the brothel at this hour," Tyrion remarked, his voice filled with a bitter, tired amusement.

Oberyn’s tone was smooth, as it always was, with a hint of mischief. "I did spend some time with an absolutely stunning blonde the other day."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the mention, a sharp twinge twisting in your chest. But you kept your eyes on the scene before you, your heart quickening as their exchange continued.

"Do tell," Tyrion replied, managing a slight smirk. "I've got every kind of filth down here except the kind I like."

Oberyn placed his torch down, the flame casting shadows that flickered along the walls as he took a seat beside Tyrion. The light softened his features but couldn’t chase away the gravity in his words. 

"Your sister," Oberyn said.

"Oh," Tyrion replied, his expression falling.

You relaxed slightly as the realization settled within you. Oberyn had meant Cersei. The tension in your chest eased, but the conversation soon shifted, becoming darker.

"Cersei approached me. We spoke a great deal about her daughter," Oberyn explained, his voice lowering. "How worried your sister is about her. She was trying very hard to pretend she had not come to sway me against you. I think she may have even believed it herself."

A small smile tugged at your lips. Oberyn was always clever, always able to see through the intricate webs of deception spun by those in King’s Landing. It was a quality you both admired and envied.

"Making honest feelings do dishonest work is one of her many gifts," Tyrion said with a grim chuckle, leaning against the wall.

"It was difficult for her to hide her true intentions," Oberyn continued, his voice calm but full of insight. "It is rare to meet a Lannister who shares my enthusiasm for dead Lannisters. She desperately wants to see you killed."

"She didn't need to bother you," Tyrion responded with a bitter laugh. "It looks as though I've taken care of that myself. The joy she will feel when my head leaves my neck... She’s wanted this for a long time."

Oberyn’s gaze darkened slightly, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. "Yes, I know. We met, you and I, many years ago."

Tyrion blinked, looking puzzled. "I think I would have remembered that."

"Unlikely," Oberyn replied, his tone shifting as he recalled the memory. "You had just been born. Our father brought me and my sister Elia with him on a visit to Casterly Rock. My first time away from Dorne. I didn’t like anything about the Rock. Not the food, not the weather, your accents. Nothing." His voice hardened as he continued. "But the biggest disappointment... was you."

Tyrion’s face fell, his usual armor of sarcasm failing him. "You and my family have more in common than you might admit," he muttered.

You watched closely, frowning as Oberyn recounted his tale. You understood disappointment more than anyone. After all, your own mother had cast you away the moment you were born, sending you to a life of servitude.

Oberyn continued, "The whole way from Dorne, all anyone talked about was the monster that had been born to Tywin Lannister. A head twice the size of his body, a tail between his legs, claws, one red eye, the privates of both a girl and a boy."

Tyrion forced a smile, though it was joyless. "That would have made things so much easier."

"When we met your sister," Oberyn said, leaning forward, "she promised she would show you to us. Every day we would ask. Every day she would say, ‘Soon.’ Then, finally, she and your brother took us to your nursery, and..." He paused, his gaze intense as he spoke the next words. "She unveiled the freak."

Tyrion’s expression remained stoic, though you could see the faint hurt in his eyes. Oberyn continued, his voice cold but full of truth. "Your head was a bit large. Your arms and legs were a bit small. But no claw, no red eye, no tail between your legs. Just a tiny pink cock. We didn’t try to hide our disappointment."

Oberyn’s face hardened as he remembered the moment. "That’s not a monster," I told Cersei. "That’s just a baby."

You swallowed hard, fighting the wave of emotion as you listened. You knew cruelty well—perhaps better than anyone in that room.

"And she said," Oberyn continued, his voice heavy with disgust, "‘He killed my mother.’ Then she pinched your little cock so hard, I thought she might pull it off. Until your brother made her stop. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told us. ‘Everyone says he will die soon. I hope they are right. He should not have lived this long.’"

You felt a lump in your throat as tears threatened to well up in your eyes. How cruel could Cersei truly be?

Tyrion’s voice cracked slightly, though he tried to keep his tone casual. "Well... sooner or later, Cersei always gets what she wants."

"And what about what I want?" Oberyn’s voice was sharp now, full of purpose. "Justice. For my sister and her children."

Tyrion’s gaze darkened, his voice low. "If you want justice, you’ve come to the wrong place."

"I disagree," Oberyn said, rising to his feet. The flickering torchlight cast deep shadows on his face, highlighting the fierce determination in his eyes. "I’ve come to the perfect place."

You watched him closely, your heart racing. You knew what was coming, but you were powerless to stop it.

"I want to bring those who have wronged me to justice," Oberyn continued, his voice steady, each word a promise. "And all those who have wronged me are right here. I will begin with Ser Gregor Clegane, who killed my sister’s children and then raped her with their blood still on his hands before killing her too."

Oberyn turned to Tyrion, his voice echoing in the dim cell. "I will be your champion."

Your heart plummeted, the weight of his words crushing you. No. You’d seen it—the vision that haunted your every step. Oberyn’s demise. His fate, as cruel and certain as the tides.

As the heavy door creaked open, the flickering torchlight danced across the stone walls, casting deep shadows in Tyrion’s cell. You watched from the darkened corridor, your breath shallow as Oberyn stepped out, the light fading with him as the door slowly shut behind. Darkness swallowed the room once more, the soft click of the latch sealing the quiet tension that hung in the air.

For a few heartbeats, you stood there, your hand pressed against the cool stone wall, the lingering warmth of Oberyn’s presence still felt in the space he had just left. Then, with silent determination, you slipped into the cell.

Tyrion, huddled in the shadows, looked up at the sound of your approach, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The small torch outside barely cast enough light to illuminate your figure as you slowly pulled back your hood. His tense expression softened with relief.

“I thought you were an assassin sent by Cersei to kill me,” Tyrion murmured, his voice a mix of dry humor and genuine fear.

You tilted your head slightly, a faint, cold smile playing on your lips. “You’re wrong on one of those things.”

Tyrion’s face tensed, the weight of your words unsettling him for a moment. His sharp mind was already working through possibilities, but before panic could fully settle in, you took a step closer.

“I’m not here to kill you,” you said softly, your voice calm but with an edge of bitterness. 

Tyrion let out a shaky breath, his shoulders easing slightly as he watched you carefully. You walked across the small cell, the sound of your steps soft on the cold stone. Taking a seat near one of the wooden poles, you leaned back against it, the silence between you both thick with unspoken truths.

“Do you recognize me?” you asked, your voice low, a challenge hidden in the question.

Tyrion furrowed his brow, studying your face. “You’re one of Sansa’s maids,” he finally said, his tone uncertain.

You nodded slowly. “Just a servant, if anything. But yes.” Leaning forward, you began rolling up your sleeves, exposing your arms in the pale sliver of moonlight that crept through the small barred window. The scars, the burns, every mark of torment etched into your skin told a story of survival. 

“Do you know the rumors?” you asked, your voice harder now.

Tyrion’s face shifted, a shadow of horror crossing his features as realization dawned on him. “You… you survived…”

Your eyes, cold and lifeless, met his. A small, bitter smile flickered on your lips as your jaw clenched. “Yes,” you said, leaning back against the wall, your arms folding across your chest. “Your reputation becomes rumors, and rumors become your reputation. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

Tyrion swallowed, clearly unsettled by the weight of your words. "Did you… did you poison Joffrey?" His voice was quiet, but the question held a note of accusation.

You shook your head, your expression flat. “No. I may have set the plan in motion, but they caused their own ruin.”

Tyrion’s eyes searched yours for deception, but when he found none, he nodded, accepting your words as truth.

“No one recognized me, not for the longest time,” you continued, your voice quiet, introspective. “Until… Prince Oberyn. Of course, he would. Every bit of information about his sister’s death... he sought it all. His own kind of hell.”

Tyrion remained silent, watching you closely as you spoke. 

“I sometimes wonder,” you mused, your eyes distant as you stared at the stone floor. “The solidarity between victims, and the solidarity between perpetrators. Which of them is stronger?”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, the sound hollow. “I’ve spent years in this place. Pouring wine, slicing pies, fetching, folding. Day after day, step by step. Every moment leading to this point.” You scoffed softly, your frustration evident. “Keeping myself going… it’s exhausting. I’m so tired of it.”

Tyrion exhaled shakily, his eyes filled with a deep understanding of that particular weariness.

“Oberyn… he has been kind to me. He is the only joy in my unfortunate life,” you said, your voice softening at the mention of him. “He has eight daughters waiting for him. Depending on him. I can’t let him throw his life away. Not for this.”

Tyrion’s brow furrowed, confusion and disbelief crossing his features. “So… you plan to kill me yourself, then?” His voice held a strange mix of resignation and curiosity.

You shook your head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “No.”

Tyrion’s confusion deepened as you met his gaze, your voice steady as you spoke the next words. “I will be your champion instead of Oberyn.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. Tyrion stared at you, incredulous. “Forgive me for saying this, but… Oberyn would never allow a lady such as yourself to fight a beast like the Mountain.”

Your eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something dangerous flashing across your face. “You of all people should know what it means to be underestimated, Lord Tyrion.” Your voice was cold but not unkind. “It just means I have nothing left to lose.”

Tyrion’s gaze softened as he understood the gravity of your words. This was no grand act of heroism. No selfless gesture. “I’m not fighting for you,” you admitted, your voice low. “This is purely selfish. Oberyn deserves justice, as much as I do, but I can’t let him die. Not when I’ve come this far. I will die on my own terms.”

“He has a chance. How are you so sure that he will—”

“I’m sure. I’ve seen it. Gods, I’ve seen it.”

Tyrion studied you for a moment longer, his face unreadable. “And how, exactly, do you plan to convince Oberyn to take your place?”

You smiled then, a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Leave that to me.”

The door to your quarters closed behind you with a soft thud. You leaned against it, letting out a long sigh. Tomorrow would be the day—victory or defeat, life or death. The weight of it pressed down on your chest, heavy as armor.

You took a step forward, lost in thought, when a figure in the shadows caught your eye. Heart racing, your hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden beneath your cloak.

“Oberyn?” you breathed, startled. 

He emerged from the darkness, leaning casually against the wall with that familiar, mischievous grin. “Relax, little dove. If I wanted to surprise you, I’d have done a better job,” he teased, his voice smooth and playful.

Your breath caught in your throat. The sight of him here, in your private space, unnerved you—but not in the way you expected. “What are you doing in my quarters?” you asked, trying to steady yourself, your pulse still racing. 

Oberyn’s smile widened as he pushed away from the wall and stepped closer. “I came to see you. Is that not allowed?”

“I—” you stammered, the shock of his sudden appearance blending with the rising tension in the room. “You scared me.”

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You’re far too comfortable sneaking around King’s Landing. It’s time someone made you nervous.” His tone was light, but there was a warmth in his gaze that made your heart ache.

Your momentary fear melted away under his charm, but then your mind shifted, weighed down by the question that had been gnawing at you. You couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Oberyn,” you began, your voice growing serious, “have you known all along that I… approached you on purpose?”

His teasing expression faded, replaced by something softer, more knowing. “Yes,” he said quietly.

You blinked, thrown by his straightforward answer. “Since when?” you asked, stepping closer, your voice lowering. “How did you find out about the connection between me and your sister?”

Oberyn watched you for a moment, as though weighing how much to reveal. “I knew every detail of when and how she died along with every single rumor,” he said, his voice soft yet deliberate. “And you—” he gave you a small, almost fond smile—“you seem to be around the age that the child who served her would be now. I figured it out the moment I heard your accent.”

His words hit you like a sudden gust of wind. You had been careful, so careful, but of course Oberyn had seen through you.

“I knew from the start you would want to use me,” he continued, his voice like silk, though there was no accusation in it. “The brother of Elia. It made sense. When I put all the pieces together, I realized I was the man you needed. The one who would do your bidding without question.”

You swallowed, his words twisting something deep inside you. “And you were fine with that? Knowing I was using you for my revenge?”

He smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “I told myself I’d be of use to you. That I’d come running whenever you wanted to use me. Wherever it was, whatever it cost.” His dark eyes held yours, no longer teasing. “But I wanted to be there before your guilt caught up with you.”

Your breath hitched, the honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. You tried to speak, but the words tangled in your throat. Oberyn’s hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch grounding you.

“When your sister died,” you finally whispered, “I thought I’d find someone to latch on to. So I approached you. Then I realized something—how could I even think of doing such a thing, just because I’m a victim? You’re a victim too.”

Oberyn’s gaze softened, and he let out a slow breath. “For a moment I thought I wasn’t your type,” he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But now… you have no reason to use me anymore. If you refuse me, it’ll be for love. Not for revenge.”

Your chest tightened as his words washed over you. Tears welled in your eyes, the weight of tomorrow’s trial pressing down like an iron hand around your throat. You knew what you had to do, the price you’d pay to save him.

Your voice trembled as the tears slipped down your cheeks. “Then… help me. Until the end.”

Oberyn stepped closer, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear. His dark eyes held yours, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t allowed yourself to see before. “I will serve you,” he said, his voice a quiet promise, “until the end.”

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP – EARLY MORNING

The first light of dawn filtered through the narrow window, casting a soft glow over the room. You had half-expected Oberyn to have slipped away in the night, seeking the comfort of Ellaria or losing himself in his vices. But when you woke, he was still there, lying beside you in the small, cramped bed that barely fit you both. His arm draped around your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The night before had been unexpected—no grand seduction, no teasing beyond his usual wit. Instead, you’d stayed up talking, sharing dreams and desires you thought long buried beneath the weight of revenge. It had been… peaceful, in a way you hadn’t known in years. For once, sleep had come easily, a deep and untroubled rest. But now, the morning was here, and with it came the knowledge of what you had to do.

You shifted carefully, trying to untangle yourself from his embrace without waking him. Oberyn mumbled something in his sleep, his grip tightening briefly before loosening as you gently pulled away. Slipping from the bed, you began dressing quietly, moving with the practiced ease of someone who had learned long ago how to move in the shadows.

As you buckled your tunic, you felt his eyes on you. Turning, you found Oberyn watching you from the bed, his dark eyes half-lidded and full of sleepy mischief. “Leaving me already?” he teased, his voice a husky murmur. “I was just getting comfortable.”

You couldn’t help but smile, though your heart ached with the weight of what you were about to do. “Someone has to get ready for the day,” you replied, forcing a lightness into your tone that you didn’t feel.

He sat up, the blanket falling from his chest as he stretched lazily. “You know, you could stay a little longer… I wouldn’t mind.”

Your throat tightened, but you masked it with a chuckle. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said softly as you crossed the room. The closer you got to him, the harder it became to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Oberyn reached for you as you approached the bed, his fingers brushing your wrist before you leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss. It was passionate, raw, as though it carried every unsaid word between you—every regret, every longing. For a moment, you allowed yourself to drown in it, to feel the warmth of his skin, the press of his lips. But you knew you couldn’t stay there.

With a soft gasp, you pulled away, your heart hammering in your chest. His eyes were still clouded with desire, his breath uneven, when you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Before he could react, you pressed your fingers to a pressure point at the base of his neck. His body stiffened for a heartbeat before his eyes rolled back, and he slumped into unconsciousness. Your hand trembled as you laid him gently on the bed, your chest tight with the enormity of what you’d just done.

Tying him up was harder than you expected. The sheets you wrapped around his wrists felt like chains around your heart, binding you to this moment of betrayal. But it was necessary. He couldn’t stop you, and you couldn’t let him die for you. Not today. Not when he had so much left to live for.

You left a note by his side, your hand shaking as you scrawled the words. You told him the truth—Dorne needed him, his daughters needed him. He had a future. But you… you were already ruined, with no family, no purpose left beyond vengeance. If things had been different, perhaps you would have let yourself love him fully. Perhaps you could have been more than the ghosts of your pasts. But now… now you had to see this through, and he couldn’t follow you into the fire.

When you met Serena in the hall, she was waiting with a worried expression. You pressed a pouch of coins into her hand, whispering instructions she already knew. “Untie him when the trial ends,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "He must live."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she gripped your hands tightly, her voice breaking. “Please… don’t die. Come back.”

The words struck you harder than you expected. For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of how to respond. She pulled you into a hug, clinging to you as though she could stop you from leaving, from walking into the jaws of death. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you wrapped an arm around her, patting her back awkwardly. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words heavy with finality.

KING’S LANDING, FIGHTING PIT – DAY

The bells tolled in the distance, a grim reminder that the day had arrived. Tyrion shuffled out toward the arena, his chains clinking with every step. The Lannisters watched from their seats, and Ellaria stood nearby, her eyes scanning the crowd for Oberyn.

You stepped into view, the sunlight glinting off your armor. It was simple but well-made—light enough for movement, but sturdy where it mattered. No helmet yet, your hair loose as the breeze tugged at it. A dagger was strapped to your thigh, hidden from view, while your hand rested on the hilt of a long, slender sword—a weapon you had saved for, piece by piece, over the years. 

Tyrion’s gaze flicked to you, his brow furrowed with worry. “Look like very light armor,” he commented dryly.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

The Mountain loomed on the other side of the pit, fully armored and wielding a massive sword that seemed to cleave the air as he moved. Ellaria’s eyes widened as she looked between you and the towering figure before her. “You’re going to fight that?” she asked, alarmed.

You let out a sigh, your grip tightening on your sword. “Hopefully, I’m going to kill that.”

Ellaria’s hand shot out, gripping your arm. “Where is Oberyn?”

You met her gaze, your eyes steady. “He’s safe. I swear it.” You paused, glancing at the Mountain and then back at her. “Take care of him.”

Pycelle’s voice rang out across the arena, ancient and raspy. "In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this… man, Tyrion Lannister. May the Mother grant them mercy. May the Father give them such justice as they deserve. And may the Warrior guide the hand of our champion..."

Tywin, bored and impatient, gestured for the fight to begin. The horns sounded, echoing through the arena.

You met Tyrion’s gaze one last time. He nodded to you, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “Good luck.”

You gave a small nod in return, your hand tightening on your sword hilt as you stepped into the pit. The Mountain loomed ahead, but this wasn’t about fear anymore. This was about survival, vengeance, and the weight of every choice you had ever made.

Today, you would fight. And one way or another, everything would change.

MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

Oberyn awoke slowly, blinking against the morning light that filtered through the window. A dull ache settled in his neck, and when he tried to move, he found his arms pinned, bound to the bed with sheets tightly knotted around his wrists. His mind raced for answers, and then it hit him—you. He had kissed you, and then… darkness.

The sound of soft footsteps drew his attention. A young woman stood by the door, wringing her hands nervously. She was small, her eyes wide with a mix of guilt and fear. Oberyn narrowed his gaze, his voice hoarse. "Who are you?"

"I—I'm Serena," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m… a maid. She—she told me to wait until after the battle. I promised."

Oberyn’s heart pounded, realization dawning on him. “Untie me,” he demanded, his voice steady but urgent. “Now.”

Serena shook her head, biting her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t. I swore I wouldn’t, not until it was over. She made me promise. I—I’m sorry.”

Oberyn tugged against the bindings, frustration growing with each passing moment. His eyes scanned the bedside table, where a crumpled piece of parchment lay. His heart clenched. “What is that?” he asked, his voice barely a breath.

Serena hesitated, then stepped forward, placing the note in his hand.

Oberyn quickly unfolded the paper, recognizing your hurried scrawl. His eyes moved over the words, and with each line, the pit in his stomach deepened.

Oberyn,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I couldn’t let you fight, not when so much depends on you. Dorne needs you, your daughters need you. You have a future, Oberyn. I can’t let you throw it all away for my revenge.

This is my fight, not yours. I’ve been ruined long before we met, and there’s nothing left for me but this. No family, no husband, no purpose beyond this one thing.

If things had been different, maybe we could have found a better life together. But now, all I can do is ask for your forgiveness. You were the one good thing that happened to me, and for that, I thank you.

Serena will untie you when the trial ends. Don’t come after me. Please. Live, for Dorne, for your daughters. For the future you still have.

Goodbye, Oberyn.

The note trembled in his hands as Oberyn read it, his heart shattering with every word. His chest tightened, breath coming short as if the air had been stolen from him. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "No, no, no!"

He turned to Serena, his voice breaking. “Untie me. I beg you. I have to stop her.”

Serena’s eyes filled with tears, her lip trembling as she clutched the hem of her dress. “She—she made me promise. I’m supposed to wait until—”

“Damn the promise!” Oberyn roared, his desperation clawing at the edges of his voice. “She’s going to die, Serena! Do you understand that? She’s going to die, and I can’t let that happen. Please. Please, untie me. I can save her.”

Serena’s hands shook violently, her resolve crumbling. She looked at him, at the raw pain in his eyes, the pleading in his voice. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she struggled with the weight of your last request. “She said Dorne needs you,” Serena whispered. “She said you have so much to lose. I—I can’t...”

Oberyn’s voice cracked, softer now, filled with a grief that was almost unbearable. “I’ll lose her. Don’t you see? If you wait… it’ll be too late. I’ll lose her forever. She’s… everything. Please… untie me.”

Serena’s hands moved to the bindings, her fingers trembling as she hesitated one last time. “Promise me… promise me you’ll save her,” she whispered, choking on her sobs.

“I swear it,” Oberyn said, his voice raw with emotion. “I swear on my life. I will save her.”

With a deep breath, Serena finally gave in, loosening the knots and setting him free. As the sheets fell away, Oberyn leapt from the bed, his heart racing as he grabbed his cloak, his mind already on the trial and the bloodshed to come.

Serena watched him go, her hands trembling, knowing that she might have just sent him to his death.

KING’S LANDING, FIGHTING PIT — DAY

The sun beat down on the fighting pit, the crowd's chatter falling into murmurs as you stepped into the arena. Eyes followed you, curious, some confused. You were no one to them, just another faceless fighter stepping up to die. But you felt the weight of their stares, especially the piercing gaze of the Lannisters, high above on their platform, surveying the pit like vultures. They didn’t know who you were, not yet.

Your eyes found the Mountain, hulking and monstrous, towering over you with cold indifference. You raised your voice, cutting through the air, “Do you know who I am?”

Gregor Clegane’s laugh was deep and cruel. “Pity,” he spat, his voice loud enough to carry across the pit. “Some dead whore.”

He lunged. His sheer size made the earth quake beneath your feet, but you were ready. You dodged, his sword cleaving through the space you had been a heartbeat before. He was fast, impossibly fast for someone of his size, but you had spent years preparing for this moment. All those nights spent training, fighting men four times your size, all of it led to this.

As you spun out of his reach, you screamed out to the crowd, “I was the maid of Princess Elia Martell!”

A ripple of whispers spread through the spectators. The name Elia Martell always had that effect, even here in King’s Landing. The Mountain charged again, his blade whistling through the air. You blocked his strike, feeling the force of it reverberate through your arms, but you pushed back, slashing at the vulnerable joints in his armor. The soft spots.

Gregor stumbled but recovered quickly. He came at you again, enraged. “I'm going to hear you confess to all these people before you die,” you spat, circling him. “Tell them how you raped her. How you murdered her. How you killed her children.”

His next attack was brutal, a wild swing that glanced off your arm, leaving a burning line of pain. You gritted your teeth, ignoring the blood soaking into your sleeve. You were faster, smaller. You had to be smarter. And so, you fought, with the fury of someone who had waited their entire life for this moment.

“You raped her!” you screamed again, your voice ragged with rage and pain. “You murdered her! You killed her children!”

You moved in, quick as a viper, stabbing him deep in the gut. He faltered, his massive body reeling from the blow. But you knew better than to get close to a wounded beast. He caught you off guard, his enormous hand closing around your throat. You gasped, your sword clattering to the ground as you struggled in his grip. The world narrowed, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull hum as your vision blurred.

But then, with a final burst of strength, you reached for the daggers hidden at your thigh. In one swift movement, you sliced through the ligaments in his knees, then his ankles, his elbows, his shoulders—every joint you could reach. The Mountain dropped to his knees, immobilized, his weapon far from his reach.

The crowd gasped. You kicked his sword aside, watching as he floundered, his monstrous frame now reduced to helplessness. You sliced off his right hand, the brutal act met with stunned silence from the spectators.

Your boot pressed down hard against his throat, your voice raw with fury. “Confess!” you shouted, eyes blazing as the crowd murmured in shock. Leaning in closer, your voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “You may have forgotten but these people haven’t.”

The Mountain coughed, blood splattering from his lips, but still, he refused. So you pressed harder, forcing the confession from his broken body. “Confess!” you screamed, your voice cutting through the stillness.

“Elia Martell,” he rasped, his voice thick with blood. “I killed her children. Then I raped her.”

Your chest heaved, your body shaking as you stood over him, your heart pounding in your ears. “Do you remember me now?” you asked, seething, your voice a low, dangerous whisper.

Gregor’s eyes flickered with the faintest recognition, and then he growled, his voice thick with venom. “You’re the bitch I burned. I burned you, and I enjoyed every moment of it.”

The words hit you like a slap, a fresh wave of rage rolling over you. But this time, it wasn’t uncontrollable. It was cold, calculating. “That’s right,” you muttered, your eyes narrowing as you stared down at the man who had haunted your nightmares for so long.

Gregor Clegane, the monster you had spent your life waiting to kill, was bleeding out before you. The crowd was silent, frozen in shock, their disbelief palpable. You could feel their eyes on you, but you didn’t care. This wasn’t for them.

“Ser Gregor,” you sneered, “death is too kind of a punishment for an animal like you. I’m not a good person—I plan on becoming worse every day. But today, I will be kind.”

With that, you raised your longsword high and brought it down, severing his head with a clean, decisive stroke. Blood splattered across your face and armor, but you didn’t flinch. You stood there, breathing heavily, caked in dirt and blood, staring down at the lifeless body of the Mountain.

The crowd erupted into chaos, screams and cheers echoing around the pit. But you barely heard them. You turned slowly, your gaze drifting to the platform where Lord Tywin and Cersei stood, their faces pale with shock. They hadn’t expected this. No one had.

As you began to strip off your armor, the crowd’s cheers faded into a stunned hush. Piece by piece, you removed the heavy metal, letting it fall to the ground until you stood in the pit, exposed. Your skin, marred and scarred, told the story of your past, of the torment you had endured. The crowd gasped, some weeping at the sight of you. But your eyes—your eyes were empty, a void where once there had been pain. Now, there was nothing but calm.

Oberyn pushed through the throngs of people, heart pounding, eyes wild with panic as he scanned the crowd. The moment he stepped into the pit’s edge, his breath caught in his throat. His world stopped. You were there, in the middle of it all, a figure painted in blood and dust, screaming out for justice with a voice that could tear the heavens apart.

His heart clenched painfully at the sight of you, fury blazing in your eyes as you danced around the Mountain’s monstrous frame, every strike of your sword precise, every movement a testament to the fire that burned within you. You had trained for this. You were prepared. But watching you battle the creature who had haunted his nightmares, who had torn apart his sister and everything Oberyn held dear—it was more than he could bear.

His body surged forward on instinct, but Ellaria’s grip tightened around his arm, her fingers digging into his skin. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anguish. “She’s chosen this.”

Oberyn’s breath hitched, his mind warring with itself. How could he stand here, watching the woman he cared for, the one person who seemed to understand his pain, fight alone? His every instinct screamed at him to run to you, to stop this madness, to be the one to end it for you. But Ellaria was right—this was your choice. You were fighting not just for Elia, but for yourself.

His prayers, silent and desperate, echoed in his mind. Keep her safe. Please, gods, let her live.

And then, just as the Mountain loomed over you one last time, bloodied but still alive, you moved like lightning. One moment, you were in his grip, your life hanging by a thread, and the next, you were free, your daggers flashing like vengeful stars as you cut him down, piece by piece, until the Mountain—the monster who had destroyed so many lives—fell to his knees, defeated.

Oberyn blinked, his heart in his throat, as the Mountain’s confession rang out across the arena. “Elia Martell. I killed her children. Then I raped her.”

A sickening wave of relief and horror washed over him. It was done. The Mountain had confessed. But you—gods, you were still standing, barely. Covered in blood and dirt, your scarred arms laid bare for the world to see, the evidence of the hell you had endured etched into your skin.

Tyrion, still chained but now free of the weight of death, was weeping with joy, unable to believe the miracle before him. You had won. The gods had chosen justice—your justice.

But Oberyn’s eyes flickered to the Lannisters. Lord Tywin, sitting stone-faced on his perch, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrest of his chair. Cersei, beside him, her face a twisted mask of rage and disbelief. Their plans had crumbled before their eyes, and there was nothing they could do.

“The gods have made their will known,” Tywin said at last, his voice cold and measured. “Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby granted mercy.”

The words dripped with bitterness, but Tywin could do nothing to change the outcome. His gaze shifted to you, and the venom in his eyes was palpable. He stared at you as if he could will you dead on the spot, but you, bloodied and exhausted, raised your chin defiantly. Your shoulders straightened, and despite the pain, you walked with purpose, never looking back at the crowd.

Oberyn could see the weight of the battle on you, the way your steps faltered slightly as you moved toward the edge of the arena. But before you could collapse, before your body gave in, you found him.

“Oberyn,” you breathed out, a ghost of a smile on your lips, just as your vision blurred, the world spinning out of focus. You reached for him, and he ran toward you, catching you before you fell.

“My beloved,” he whispered, cradling your head in his arms, panic flooding his veins. He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “Stay with me. You’ve won. You’ve won.”

But your vision darkened, his face fading into shadows as you whispered, barely audible, “I’m sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

Then everything went black.

Oberyn held you tighter, his heart racing as he carried you away from the pit, the cheers of the crowd fading into a distant roar. Ellaria trailed behind him, her face streaked with silent tears. And as the sun began to set over King’s Landing, Oberyn prayed once more, but this time, it was not for vengeance.

It was for you.

A FEW DAYS LATER...  

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

You inhale slowly, your eyelids fluttering open as a heavy fog of disorientation lingers. The cushion beneath you feels impossibly soft, too luxurious to be real, and the silk sheets that drape over your body are unfamiliar against your skin. For a moment, you wonder if you're still dreaming. Blinking against the blurriness, you take in the room—this isn't your quarters. It’s far too grand, too opulent. The deep burgundy tapestries hang from the walls, trimmed with gold, casting the space in a warm, regal glow. 

Your confusion deepens as your gaze drifts around the room, eventually landing on the man seated beside you, his presence both grounding and comforting. Oberyn. His dark eyes are focused entirely on you, a mixture of concern and anger etched into the lines of his face. He’s holding your hand tightly, as if letting go might mean losing you.

When he notices your eyes fluttering open, his grip tightens, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a kind of desperation that makes your heart clench.

“You scared me,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse, strained by emotions he usually keeps in check. The frustration bleeds into his words, but there’s an overwhelming sense of relief as well. His brow is furrowed, and for a second, it seems like he doesn’t know whether to scold you or hold you closer.

He leans in without hesitation, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that is both gentle and fierce. His hand cups your cheek as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn't hold on. There’s a warmth in the kiss, but you can feel the anger there, too—the worry that he almost lost you, the unspoken terror that gripped him during your absence.

As you pull back from the kiss, your head still spinning, you can’t help but think of Ellaria. The question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. “Wait… Ellaria…”

Oberyn sighs, his thumb still grazing the back of your hand as if to soothe away your concerns. “No…” he begins softly, his voice gentler now, though the tension in his posture remains. “We—both of us—have things to discuss.”

You shift beneath the covers, the comfort of the sheets doing little to ease the guilt that's settled in your chest. "I didn’t mean to cause problems,” you whisper, your voice small, barely above a murmur. 

His eyes soften as he watches you, his grip tightening for a moment before loosening again. “It wasn’t you,” he reassures you, his tone filled with a sincerity that makes your heart ache. “None of this was your fault.”

But still, the weight of it all lingers. You can’t shake the feeling that you've upset the delicate balance between them, between you, and the heavy silence presses down on you. "It kind of feels like it," you admit, your gaze dropping to the silk sheets beneath your fingers as if avoiding his eyes will make it easier.

Oberyn studies you for a moment, his intense gaze never wavering. When he speaks, his voice is soft, coaxing, but there’s a thread of steel underneath, as though he won’t let you hide from this. “What is it? Tell me.”

You hesitate, the words thick and difficult to force out. It feels vulnerable, admitting this to him. But you’ve never been one to shy away from the truth, and Oberyn deserves that, at least. You take a shaky breath. “I don’t like to share,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper as you look up at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes.

For a moment, there's silence. Then, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips—not mocking, but understanding. “Ah,” he says softly, a faint chuckle escaping him, though it holds no malice. His fingers lace through yours more tightly, and he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You don't need to worry about that right now.”

His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s something deeper in the way he looks at you. Something reassuring. “We’ll figure it out,” he adds, his voice calm, steady, as if this problem is not insurmountable, as if you and he could face anything together.

You can’t help the way your heart warms at his words, at the way he so effortlessly defuses your fears with that simple, quiet confidence of his. You offer him a tentative smile, still feeling a little raw, a little unsure, but his presence, as always, is enough to make the world seem just a little bit easier to face.

For now, in this moment, the tension fades. It’s just the two of you, hands intertwined, the weight of your worries shared between you. And somehow, that’s enough.

Everything seemed to be falling back into place, except for one thing—you couldn’t stay. You had already resigned from your position as a servant to the Lannisters, knowing it was only a matter of time before they dismissed you.

That morning, after bidding farewell to your duties, you left a good sum of gold for Serena, thanking her for all she had done. It wasn’t nearly enough to repay her, but it was all you had. She had been your silent ally, and you owed her your life.

You had recovered well enough, and when the time came, you scribbled a note and left it on Oberyn’s desk. Just a few words, playful but loaded with meaning:  

“Do you want to come see the ocean with me?”

The sun was sinking into the horizon, casting the sky in soft shades of gold and lavender as you and Oberyn strolled along the coast. The sea breeze brushed against your skin, cool and salty, but comforting. It tousled your hair, lifting the loose strands in gentle waves. Beside you, Oberyn’s hand was warm, his fingers entwined with yours as he led you along the shore. His voice, rich and smooth like velvet, floated through the air, serenading you with a Dornish love song. His words, though foreign, melted into the air, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

You looked up at him, his face glowing in the fading light, his eyes reflecting the endless ocean beside you. In his presence, the world seemed smaller, quieter. The chaotic din of King's Landing, the bloodshed, and the weight of everything that had come before—it all faded into the background. Here, it was just the two of you, walking along the edge of the world.

Oberyn’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “You look peaceful,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. 

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his affection settle deep in your chest. "I feel peaceful. For once," you whispered, your eyes meeting his, drinking in the tenderness you saw there. 

As the two of you made your way to a small dock, you found an old crate to sit on, the wood weathered and worn by years of salt and sea. You sat side by side, legs dangling off the edge, sharing a bottle of Dornish red wine. The world around you felt infinite—expansive ocean stretching out before you, stars beginning to shimmer in the twilight sky, the rhythmic lull of the waves breaking against the shore.

The wine was sweet, its taste lingering on your lips as you passed the bottle between you, laughing between sips, sharing stolen kisses in between stories. Oberyn’s hand slid along your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. He was so close, and yet, for the first time, you felt the distance growing. 

There was a part of you that ached, knowing how this perfect moment would end.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “Oberyn,” you murmured, your voice quiet, barely louder than the waves.

“Hmm?” He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss into your hair.

You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent—the mix of sun and leather, and something uniquely him. For a moment, you just listened to the sound of his heartbeat, steady and sure. You wanted to bottle this moment, to keep it forever, but you knew that was impossible.

“I love this,” you whispered. “I love… you.”

Oberyn smiled against your hair, his lips brushing your skin. “And I you.”

You stayed like that for a long time, the two of you wrapped in the silence, the kind that didn’t need words. The sky above grew darker, stars spilling across the night like scattered diamonds. Everything felt right in that instant, perfect even. But you knew better than to believe in perfect endings.

When Oberyn stood to fetch more wine, you watched him walk away, your heart already breaking with every step he took. He looked back, flashing you a teasing grin, unaware of the storm brewing inside you. You held on to that image of him—happy, carefree, the man who had brought light into your world.

You waited until he disappeared into the distance before you moved. You pulled the small seashell from your pocket, the one you'd found on the shore earlier. You placed it carefully beside the note you had written earlier, your hand trembling as you set it on the crate where you had shared so many stolen moments with Oberyn.

Your breath caught in your throat as you re-read the words you had scrawled:

“We’re at the final destination. This is the end. Goodbye.”

The weight of it all settled over you as you stood there for a moment, staring out at the endless sea. Your heart ached in a way you couldn’t describe, torn between love and the inevitability of your decision. You closed your eyes, letting the wind caress your face one last time before you turned and walked away, leaving only the note and seashell behind.

By the time Oberyn returned, laughing with another bottle of wine in hand, you were already gone.

He looked around, the smile slipping from his face as he called your name. Panic crept into his voice as he scanned the dock, eyes landing on the seashell and the note. His hand trembled as he picked it up, his heart hammering in his chest as he read the words.

The bottle of wine slipped from his grasp, shattering on the ground, just like his heart.

ATOP THE CLIFFS — EVENING

The wind howled as you stood at the edge of the cliffs, looking down at the jagged rocks and the sea below. You had built a small fire, watching as the flames consumed the journal you had written in for years—pages full of unsent letters, regrets, and broken dreams. The smoke curled into the twilight sky, taking with it the pieces of you no one had ever seen.

Tears streamed down your face as you whispered into the wind, "I hope that in the end, whether I’m in the world or not, your world will be full of me. I want you to resent every moment of your life so much that you feel it deep in your bones. Let me do that. I’ll be the one who kills me."

The ocean roared beneath you, the cliffs standing as silent witnesses to your final moment. You stepped closer to the edge, the weight of the world lifting as you prepared to let go.

But then—  

“Help! Please help! Save him!”

You turned slowly, tears still blurring your vision. Standing at a distance was Ellaria Sand, her face stricken with panic. Her voice trembled as she called out, “If this is the end you were preparing for, then you should already know. What if… Oberyn chooses this end too?”

You stood frozen, silent, tears streaming down your face as Ellaria took a cautious step toward you. Her voice was thick with emotion as she continued, “I met with Serena. She told me about you. She told me everything—about where you came from, how you ended up here.”

Ellaria’s voice cracked as she pleaded with you. “This isn’t the way things should end. When Oberyn told me he wanted to help you get revenge, I gave him my permission. So please… give me your permission to save your life today.”

You could barely breathe, your chest tight with grief and confusion. 

Ellaria’s eyes were wet with tears as she took another step forward. “Whether I have to hang on to you or jump with you, I will save you. I need you to help him—help Oberyn escape his hell so that he can choose to live.”

You stared at her, your tears flowing freely now, and your gaze drifted back to the ocean, where the sun had almost dipped below the horizon. Stars began to streak across the sky, as if the gods themselves were watching, waiting for your decision.

End Notes:

Okay OKAY LISTEN LISTEN, I know it doesn’t make sense that Ellaria shows up there. It’s all fantasy. But if we assume that there were tiny bits of divine intervention here and there, she could appear on those cliffs because she wanted to save you.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen

[15-lizards]

okkkkk buttt imagine a Clegane sister getting sent to the faith then rising up high by weaponising faith and scripture to become a dark Hilda von bigen? In the Baratheon era because the lannisters think she’ll be obedient dog but she’s just very cunning- she’s had to, and power hungry- she felt powerless as a kid, and wears better masks then any tyrell on their best day- survival she turned into a political art. High sparrow could never

This is so fierce but Dagmar does NOT have the ability to hold her tongue and temper like at all unfortunately ❤️ complete inability to do any political intrigue like she’s just not made for it. Alternate universe where Gregor just sends her off to a motherhouse after she goes berserk after the whole Iva Marriage Debacle and channels her inner Saera and gets kicked out and has to go to the silent sisters bc she’s so bad at it. Probably gets her tongue cut out or something by them live laugh love

Iva would be a really good manipulator political player if only her submissive shaking little lamb persona was an act instead of her actual personality. AU where she’s the one who gets sent to a motherhouse and littlefinger finds her and he thinks hmmm I can use her I can train her but she just cries all the time and can’t remember any of the secrets she’s supposed to listen to and he’s like. Okay well I thought this was going to go a different way I may have severely overestimated her capabilities she is actually not that smart. And poisons her or smthn cause she knows too much

[wordstome]

For the character ask game! ❤️

2. and 3. (Favourite and least favourite canon thing about König)

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

9. Could you be roommates with this character 🤪?

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

25. What was your frst impression of this character? How about now?

2. My favorite canon thing about König His enormous co— Considering there's so little canon content of him, every little detail about him has become an integral part of his characterization, so it's hard to pick a favorite. But if I had to, it's probably his sheer anonymity: the other operators, even the fully masked ones, have a full name. König is just the German word for king. Girl...who the fuck is this guy??? Combined with the sparsity of his bio, his whole vibe is incredibly mysterious. You could launch a thousand headcanons on him and they check out. He's just a fun character to come up with ideas for.

3. Least favorite canon thing about König His voice actor...look, I want to make it very clear I respect Jim Boeven's work. He's great at his job and his work as König is both well done and provided a lot of sorely needed insight into his personality. I don't even dislike his voice itself: a lot of people on tiktok (children) don't like his voice because they think the accent is goofy or they're disappointed it's not Corpse Husband-deep. I think his voice is really sexy and has so much personality. But man...I wish his voice actor was a better person. Or at least stayed off the internet. (This doesn't bother me as much as it bothers other people, though. I just forget Boeven exists most of the time)

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in? Oooooh, delicious idea. I've actually played with the idea of putting him in different aus/intellectual properties, everything from Star Trek to ACOTAR-style high fantasy. But the answer is very obviously A Song Of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones). I mean.........come on. Come on. He's like if the Mountain oozed sex appeal (Sorry to Gregor Clegane fuckers) and was slightly less awful (at least König works to take down human trafficking cells). There's this scene in the first book at Daenerys's wedding to Khal Drogo where part of the celebration is that there are dancers and Khal Drogo's men just grab them and fuck them right then and there. It's clearly meant to be shocking and not a turn-on, but the way it was described was literally all I could think about while reading Fatum. Good God.

9. Could you be roommates with this character 🤪? Yes and we would have the nastiest se— Look, I'll be honest with you. In real life, I would stay a million miles away from this man. I would never even have the chance to cross paths with him. But if we just happened to become roommates? ...yeah, actually. As a military man he probably keeps his spaces tidy as a habit, and he'd be gone most of the time on deployment while still paying his share of the rent. He also likely keeps to himself and wouldn't be bringing around friends to disturb me (my poor guy). I'm not conceited enough to think that I'm so gorgeous and sexy that he would be too intimidated to talk to me, but I do think he would avoid interacting with me in general, which ideal in a roommate for me. In exchange, I pretend not to notice my underwear going missing or that I don't hear him say my name while he jerks off! Win-win.

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character. I need to go find these posts and add them to the Königcore bible, but there's this one post with accompanying art that's basically like "kpop boy airport fashion Horangi x dad on a fishing trip König" with a picture of König in these waders and it's so cute. Also that one post about several COD characters' fashion senses, where König's mostly consists of jackets and sweatpants. I love both of those aesthetics! My favorite outfit to imagine him in, of course, is a black compression shirt and gray sweatpants with no boxers...

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now? First impression: the hood is both creepy and corny as hell Now: *slams down an essay-length diatribe on him as a character* how much time do you have to hear about my insane boyfriend

[rarepears]

Nov 2022 Masterpost

rarepears recs

make up fake fic title ask game

endeavor x gin

tywin lannister x sung jinwoo

shen qingqiu marries a brothel madam au

the married life of sung jinwoo and wen ruohan au

time traveling obi wan pretends to be a professor specializing in the study of the Jedi Order au

Shen Yuan and his siblings transmigrate into PIDW and are all Cang Qiong peak lords... the previous Cang Qiong peak lords au

imagine if itachi uchiha was reborn as lan xichen au

Aemond Targaryen x Endeavor

Daemon Targaryen x Endeavor au

time traveler obiwan needs to YEEEEET anakin into therapy asap au

Jinah tries to teach Sung Jinwoo's shadow summons some Human Traditions AU

shen qingqiu has an emotional support parrot and hijinks happen au

if sung jinwoo was reborn as luo binghe au

the lan and order au (the law and order reimagined with mdzs)

shen yuan is mobei jun’s mother thanks to his wife beam and an early transmigration au

shen qingqiu: qing jing peak lord by day and crime lord by night au

the hunt for shen jiu's biological family au

meet percy jackson god of kamino and star wars clones au

shen qingqiu knew luo binghe was su xiyan's son au

shen yuan the fraghead getting thrown in svsss au

aerys targaryen becomes less of a mad king with the steady application of harry potter’s magical healing cock au

Shen Yuan transmigrates into a basilisk character in PIDW au

When PIDW!Luo Binghe is pushed into the Endless Abyss he falls through a dimensional rip into SVSSS world au

svsss modern AU 24/7 dom Shen yuan and sub luo binghe

if Su Xiyan fell in love not with Tian Langjun but Sung Jinwoo (solo leveling) au

svsss my little pony fusion au

observant cang qiong disciples realize somethings about their Shen shibo AU

Liu Mingyan (Svsss) gets reborn as Sung Jinah (Solo Leveling) and gets reunited with her brother again... with a twist au

no one believes LBH to be the real LBH au

solo leveling meta: life insurance

luo binghe's xinmo sword is actually a plasma sword once known as darksaber svsss x star wars au

Sung Jinwoo becomes Gregor and Sandor Clegane's adoptive dad au

Shen Yuan transmigrates as Liu Qingge's mom and becomes a high quality MILF character AU

instead of the fullbringer arc ichigo gives birth to chibified versions of his zanpakuto and hallow au

poison ivy is mistaken to be a goddess of nature in game of thrones and tully is quick to claim her as their ancestor au

shen yuan and luo binghe are aizawa's adoptive parents au

sqh's chicken or egg au

When your disciple LBH tries to marry your shizun SY - AKA Shen Jiu isn’t having a good time in this au

the cang qiong mountain sect hot pot tradition au

a time traveling/dimension crossing!Luo Bingge tries to woo Shen Jiu's shizun aka Shen Yuan au

PIDW reborn as cats and Shen Jiu is the lucky cat owner au

sqh and sy sleepover au

[redtriangle]

I have more Astruc art; much more. Not much to say, just what if Thomas Astruc is the holder of the Ladybug and the Black Cat Miraculouses. Of course in an AU somewhere.

Oh yeah, I gave him a six-pack and gave his suit some latex shine the best I can. Even a villain need to look good. In my AU version, Thomas Astruc is kind of buff. You know who I think of? Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson, the Icelandic strongman and actor who played Gregor Clegane aka “The Mountain” in Game of Thrones.

Coccinelle Bourgogne The name is last minute honestly but I’m confident with this (I hope). “Coccinelle Bourgogne” on in English “Burgundy Beetle/Ladybug”. Perfectly, “Burgundy” is both a reddish color and also a rural wine-growing region in France where it makes their signature Burgundy wines. If I have chose that name earlier, maybe I should’ve painted his hair red. Oh well, best stick to the classics.

Chat Nuit “Chat Nuit” as in “Night Cat”, “Cat of the Night”, or “Cat Night”. I hope don’t do any wrong with the translations.Thomas Astruc as the holder of the Black Cat Miraculous.

What can I say? I like idea of colored eyes even the scleras. And the hair too, and even his beard.

Miraculous Ladybug made by Thomas Astruc & Zagtoon Drawn by Redtriangle (me)

[sayruq]

In an AU where Sansa reunited with Robb and Catelyn thanks to Brienne (no Red Wedding), how do you think Sansa would have reacted or felt if she found out that Robb hadn't wanted to make the trade? I feel like she be shattered but tried justifying it that Robb is a king, and I feel similar to where Ned was feeling too guilty about Lady to talk to Sansa Robb would feel the same. At least she would have Cat to confide in

i don't think sansa would be completely surprised, i mean the entire time she was in king's landing there wasn't a serious move towards a hostage exchange. in fact she was in court when tyrion was making his counter offer to robb's peace terms

Tyrion glanced toward Sansa, and felt a stab of pity as he said, "Until such time as he frees my brother Jaime, unharmed, they shall remain here as hostages. How well they are treated depends on him." And if the gods are good, Bywater will find Arya alive, before Robb learns she's gone missing.

but of course tyrion's terms were so ridiculous that robb was expected to reject them

"Here are our terms," said Tyrion. "Robb Stark must lay down his sword, swear fealty, and return to Winterfell. He must free my brother unharmed, and place his host under Jaime's command, to march against the rebels Renly and Stannis Baratheon. Each of Stark's bannermen must send us a son as hostage. A daughter will suffice where there is no son. They shall be treated gently and given high places here at court, so long as their fathers commit no new treasons."

so naturally sansa remained in the red keep waiting for robb to defeat the lannisters. there is, however, a difference between knowing that negotiations would be difficult and this

"Lannister won't die," Robb said. "No one so much as speaks to him without my warrant. He has food, water, clean straw, more comfort than he has any right to. But I won't free him, not even for Arya and Sansa."

this would break sansa's heart. she'll try to understand but if she was being rescued after brienne came to king's landing, then sansa would have already been married to tyrion which means she'll find out about the will and how robb thought she was a lost cause. can't imagine anyone who would shrug at this and move on without feeling hurt. it'll have the same effect as ned killing lady, an act that shattered sansa's trust in him. ned didn't bother to talk to sansa so maybe robb will be different. maybe, he will explain his reasoning and sansa will accept but things will never be the same again between them.

i just think it's funny when people think that jaime was more valuable that sansa.

One of your sons, Tyrion thought. He took a sip of wine and said not a word, thinking of Jaime. When he lifted his arm, pain shot through his elbow, reminding him of his own brief taste of battle. He loved his brother, but he would not have wanted to be with him in the Whispering Wood for all the gold in Casterly Rock. His lord father's assembled captains and bannermen had fallen very quiet as the courier told his tale. The only sound was the crackle and hiss of the log burning in the hearth at the end of the long, drafty common room.

"How could this happen?" Ser Harys Swyft moaned. "How? Even after the Whispering Wood, you had Riverrun ringed in iron, surrounded by a great host … what madness made Ser Jaime decide to split his men into three separate camps? Surely he knew how vulnerable that would leave them?"

They came down on the north camp first. No one was expecting an attack. Marq Piper had been raiding our supply trains, but he had no more than fifty men. Ser Jaime had gone out to deal with them the night before … well, with what we thought was them. We were told the Stark host was east of the Green Fork, marching south …

"And your outriders?" Ser Gregor Clegane's face might have been hewn from rock. The fire in the hearth gave a somber orange cast to his skin and put deep shadows in the hollows of his eyes. "They saw nothing? They gave you no warning?"

"Greatjon Umber fired the siege towers we were building, and Lord Blackwood found Ser Edmure Tully in chains among the other captives, and made off with them all. Our south camp was under the command of Ser Forley Prester. He retreated in good order when he saw that the other camps were lost, with two thousand spears and as many bowmen, but the Tyroshi sellsword who led his freeriders struck his banners and went over to the foe."

"Curse the man." His uncle Kevan sounded more angry than surprised. "I warned Jaime not to trust that one. A man who fights for coin is loyal only to his purse."

"How could it happen?" Ser Harys Swyft wailed again. "Ser Jaime taken, the siege broken … this is a catastrophe!"

Ser Kevan did as he was bid. Lord Tywin unrolled the leather, smoothing it flat. "Jaime has left us in a bad way. Roose Bolton and the remnants of his host are north of us. Our enemies hold the Twins and Moat Cailin. Robb Stark sits to the west, so we cannot retreat to Lannisport and the Rock unless we choose to give battle. Jaime is taken, and his army for all purposes has ceased to exist. Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion continue to plague our foraging parties. To our east we have the Arryns, Stannis Baratheon sits on Dragonstone, and in the south Highgarden and Storm's End are calling their banners."

an entire rundown showing how jaime mishandled the siege so that when characters make statements like these, you're supposed to be skeptical

"He told you true." She could not even say that Robb was wrong. Arya and Sansa were children. The Kingslayer, alive and free, was as dangerous as any man in the realm. That road led nowhere.

i have a feeling that a free jaime wouldn't exactly impact robb's chances at winning battles.

grrm continues to hammer home what a mistake robb was making by having the enemy, the guys who are raiding the riverlands, the guys who previously sacked king's landing so much that people are terrified of sieges to this day, the guys who would not allow a woman to have any say in meetings like these unlike robb, say things like this

"I had heard that Queen Cersei has the Hand's daughters," Lefford said hopefully. "If we give the lad his sisters back …" Ser Addam snorted disdainfully. "He would have to be an utter ass to trade Jaime Lannister's life for two girls." "Then we must ransom Ser Jaime, whatever it costs," Lord Lefford said.

robb was now king which makes sansa and arya princesses. a princess is always more valuable than a kingsguard in their society and esp during war when you need to make alliances. robb realised that in that end

"I should have traded the Kingslayer for Sansa when you first urged it," Robb said as they walked the gallery. "If I'd offered to wed her to the Knight of Flowers, the Tyrells might be ours instead of Joffrey's. I should have thought of that."

so i don't get why people disagree with him.

[megsironthrone]

Meg's Game of Tales: Tale 15

*Familiar Characters are NEVER mine! The original story of "Rapunzel" was written by The Brothers Grimm.*

Warnings: Rapunzel AU, angst-ish, a little fluff

Pairings: Prince!Jaime Lannister x fem!reader

This hunt was not going as planned. Not at all. Not only had Jaime not caught anything, but he'd gotten hurt in the process. It just wasn't a good day. The only thing Jaime was looking forward to now was getting home, getting clean, and collapsing in bed. That was the thought that kept him pressing forward. But then? He heard it. A voice calling out.

"Y/N! Y/N! Let down your hair!" Jaime followed the sound of the voice and came upon a tower. At the bottom of a tower was an older looking woman, but that wasn't what caught Jaime's attention. it was what the old woman was climbing. It wasn't a ladder or a rope. No. It was…hair?! Jaime's gaze followed the hair up and, as expected it was attached to the head of a woman. A beautiful woman. Well, from what he could see from a distance anyway.

How had Jaime not seen this tower before? He hunted in these woods all the time. Jaime watched until the two figures disappeared from view. Jaime had always been the curious sort of man, so the need to know more welled up in his chest and it took everything in him to stay away from the tower. If the younger woman was trapped up there, it wasn't safe for him to approach while the older woman was there. So, he left, determined to come back the next day when hopefully, the younger woman would be alone and safe.

The next day, Jaime was out early, heading toward the tower. He got there quickly, hiding in the bushes until the older woman was gone. As soon as she was out of sight, Jaime ran up and called out the same phrase he'd heard her call out the day before. "Y/N! Y/N! Let down your hair!" It took a moment, but soon the voluminous length of hair came cascading out of the window of the tower.

Wasting no time, Jaime began to climb. His arms and legs burned with the effort, but his curiosity was piqued and he couldn't go back now. He had to meet the woman at the top of the tower. Who was she? Why was she there? Would she ever want to leave? Was the old woman kind to her? All these questions fueled Jaime's climb until he finally made it to the top and swung into the window.

"W-Who are you?" Jaime glanced up to see a pair of beautiful eyes staring back at him in fear and wonder. You were more beautiful up close. "I think the better question is who are you and why are you in this tower?" You arched a brow. "That's two questions. And you're the one who climbed into MY home. Now, who are you?" Jaime held his hands up in gesture of surrender.

"Jaime. My name is Jaime. I-I saw your tower yesterday and heard the old woman call out to you. I had to know more." You let out a scoff and shook your head. "Mother says the outside world is cruel and vicious. The tower keeps me safe" Jaime nodded. "She's right about that. But I mean you no harm. I swear." You regarded him with distrust. "I don't think I believe you." Jaime chuckled. You were smart. "Perhaps I could sit with you a while? We can talk and maybe then you'll trust me." After a moment of thought, you nodded slowly in agreement.

*time skip*

"Y/N! Let down your hair!" Jaime called out. He'd been coming to see you every day for weeks now. At one point, he'd nearly been caught by your mother. That day you'd been frightened and told him to stay away. He hadn't of course, but you were slowly growing to trust him. It was his favorite part of the day, getting to see you.

Despite being locked up in a door less tower your entire life, you were very intelligent. You could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound. Jaime couldn't hide the fact that he was a prince from you for very long. You were also very sweet, but had a temper that Jaime admired. You rarely showed it, but when you did, you could scare the most fierce creatures. The only thing that bothered Jaime, truly bothered him really, was that you seemed content to never leave your tower. You wanted adventure, but you didn't want to leave your mother.

As Jaime climbed your hair once more, he went through his argument in his head. He was going to try and get you to talk to your mother about leaving the tower for good. It couldn't be healthy being locked away all the time, could it? Jaime didn't expect what was going to happen.

"Hello, Y/N!" Jaime greeted as he climbed in the window. He looked up only to be met with the face of your mother. She looked livid. "Who are you?! How did you find this place?! Did he send you?!" Jaime glanced at you in confusion. "He? Who are you speaking of?" Your mother relaxed a little, but only a little.

"Does anyone know you're here?" she asked and Jaime shook his head. She smiled. "Good. Then no one will know what I'm going to do to you." A crack of lightening sounded over heard, causing Jaime's brows to furrow. It had been sunny when he climbed in a moment before. He glanced out the window to see rows and rows of thorns springing up from the ground.

"MOTHER NO!" you cried. Jaime spun around to see that your mother was about to push him from the window. "Please, Mother, don't! Jaime is my friend. I-I think I love him." Your mother whirled around and Jaime's eyes widened. "Do you even know him?" You nodded sheepishly. "He's been coming every day for many weeks now. I'm sorry I did not tell you. I didn't want to lose him. Or you."

Your mother approached you. "Y/N, darling, how can you trust him? I've told the outside world is a horrible place. I'm the only one who can protect you." Jaime's brows came together as he processed what was being said. "Protect her from what? Surely there can't be an actual threat on the life of someone so kind and lovable. Can there?" Your mother let out a sigh.

"I suppose there's no harm in telling you now. I'm not your real mother, Y/N. Your real mother charged me with caring and protecting you when you were only a child. I was to keep you safe until she reached out to me. But then she died and the threat to you grew worse."

"I ask again, threat from what?" Jaime asked. He wasn't one to draw out stories longer than necessary. That was more Tyrion's expertise. The woman rolled her eyes, but continued on, "The threat from Lord Gregor Clegane," she stated before turning back to you, "Your brother."

"M-My brother?" She nodded. "I know Gregor. He's a monster," Jaime stated, "Your mother was right to send you away. I'd forgotten there was a third sibling. After Gregor held Sandor's face over the fire, the third child was said to have disappeared. Some said she was murdered by Gregor for trying to tell people the truth about what happened instead of the story the late Lord Clegane told."

You looked between Jaime and the woman you knew as your mother in disbelief. "I'm a lady? Like…a trueborn lady?" They both nodded. "That's why I've kept you here. For your own good." You nodded, but Jaime wasn't having it anymore. You had said you thought you loved him. He wasn't sure anything would come of that love if you were stuck in the tower for the rest of your life or Gregor's.

"She doesn't have to stay in the tower. It's true Gregor is still alive, but I doubt he would recognize either of you. And even if he did, you would be safe. Your brother Sandor is still alive as well. He lives in the castle as part of the guard. You would be protected and safe anywhere you went. I swear it."

Your mother immediately began to protest while your eyes were glued to Jaime's again. For a moment, the two of you stared at each other while your mother droned on in the background. After a bit, you spoke again. "No, Mother. I won't stay here," you said, turning to her and taking her hands in yours, "I love you. Very much. I know you want to protect me, but I need to be out of this tower to discover this new part of who I am and if Jaime says he can keep me safe, I trust him. He hasn't broke a promise to me yet. Please, Mother. Let's leave this place together."

The older woman turned to Jaime and in a stern voice asked, "Can you keep your promise? Will you keep her safe?" Jaime nodded without hesitation. While he wasn't sure if he loved you romantically, he did have a love for you. He always protected those he loved. She stared into his eyes the same way you always did when you were trying to figure out if he was lying or not.

"Very well. You have my blessing. I will return to my former cottage, but you two will go to the castle and enjoy life together. If you ever have need of me, you will know where to find me." With that, she placed a kiss to your forehead and nodded to Jaime. She waved her hand to cause the thorns to disappear.

Using your hair, she left the tower to return to her cottage. Jaime followed her down and waited for you at the bottom. You gripped tight to the hair that was going to be your way to freedom. Taking a deep breath, you began lowering yourself from the tower for the first and only time, ready to start a new adventure.

(a/n: That's our 15th tale! Only 3 more to go, plus 2nd parts for "A Hound-Shaped Helm" and "Three Days".)

[laiqualaurelote]

3 and 23 for the EOY fic asks 😘

thank you for asking!

3. favourite line/scene you wrote this year

This is a really good question and I spent quite a lot of time thinking about it! Not so much a scene as an entire chapter, but this would be the Family Of Blood On The Wheel MFMM/Doctor Who crossover in World Enough And Time - it was just such a delight to construct and the whole time I was cackling diabolically, like "THE ANGST! THE ANGST!"

If it does have to be a single scene, it would be the chaos sequence in House Proud where Gregor Clegane burns down Jon and Tyrion's house and is then felled by a stop sign and squid.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

I think I wrote most of the fics I wanted to write! either that or they're WIP. I guess I would say the rest of MFMM fae!AU, and the subversive noir AU where Jack is failing at being hard-boiled and Phryne is too self-aware to be a femme fatale. Oh, and my short-lived idea to write a fic from the point of view of the Maharaja of Alwar, which began:

"Ishwar knew he would marry Phryne Fisher the moment he laid eyes on her, because the second prophecy made at his birth was that he would wed a white woman who fell out of the sky.

Under normal circumstances, his family might have raised more of a fuss over this because of the first prophecy - that Ishwar would become Maharaja, which given the line of succession was so obvious it hardly bore prophesying - which would place a foreign queen upon the throne of Alwar.

Nobody took it as seriously as they should, however, because the third prophecy was that Ishwar would be dead by the age of 25, which rendered the rest of it quite moot.

So when Miss Fisher crashed her plane into the cornfield next to where he was sketching the landscape, Ishwar took one look at her and knew that this was his future wife. Given that he was 24, it also meant he had one year left to live. All in all, it was a rather grim first encounter."

Then I didn't know how to continue, so that was that.

[strangeratthewindow]

Expanding on my claim that I’m not a fan of those “ASoIaF meets X post-Enlightenment country” fanfics that shove democracy down Westeros’s throat, I should add that the reasons I don’t like them is because they’re often poorly thought out. And by “poorly thought out” I mean:

They’re usually predicated on the idea that somehow you can get certain feudal lords and kings on board with the idea of democracy, representative or otherwise, because they’re honorable or logical or want the best for their people or whatever (e.g. Ned Stark), which is short-sighted at best and idiotic at worst.

They usually assume that any resistance met to democratization will inherently win because it’s good! and pure! and the best way for all peoples to be ruled! When the more likely scenario is Tywin Lannister pulling the strings of the most thorough assassination plot in Westerosi history.

They usually show the modern country bringing democracy *coughs*America*coughs* as being the peak of civilization, often refusing to address the very real problems that said “modern nation” has.

They ignore the very real problems that come with just dropping democratic/republican ideas onto Westeros, such as whether this newly democratized Westeros will be federal or parliamentary, defining Westerosi citizenship, the full scope of enfranchisement, civil liberties vs cultural differences, etc.

They choose to gloss over the complications of making a country as large as the Seven Kingdoms, which I may add doesn’t have an industrial-level base or economy, into a democratic state. Often the problems geography brings up in this scenario are completely ignored.

Any concepts of “Democracy for Westeros!” that are found in those fics usually take a second place to their main concept which half the time is “Gunpowder for Westeros!”, and I can admittedly understand the desire to write the latter (my own fanfic series is being fueled solely by a desire to write a believable AU where Elia Martell shoots Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch in their shitty little faces with a Winchester rifle). But for some reason, a lot of these subpar fics operate on the logic of: First we give them guns, then we give them democracy, then we can give them capitalism, and all of their problems will be solved! It’s a perfect plan!

A good 90% of those fanfics are or become, unironically, very jingoistic on the part of the “X modern nation” which is... just... no... no... please, no.

I could go on, but I don’t want to make this any longer than it already is. That, and seven feels like an appropriate number to stop at given the topic.

Anyway, the short of it is, getting the Seven Kingdoms to become the Seven Republics... States... whatever, is probably going to take nothing short of a centuries-long war aided by industrial innovations (a fact which writers of those kinds of fics often leave out). And most fics that try to do that unwittingly craft a tale of imperialism, which isn’t inherently bad but the writers either fail to see the imperialism they’ve accidentally made, or worst: JUSTIFY IT.

I’m not against fanfics that use the concept of “Westeros meets a post-Enlightenment, Industrial nation” or “Somehow these Enlightenment ideals develop in Westeros and make life a little less shitty”. You can get a good story with that, and there are a few out there (and I’m not counting those “tech-uplift” fanfics, which is a whole other mess). But often times crafting a good story takes a backseat in those fanfics in favor of unnecessarily glorifying all that’s great about democracy, and half of the time the people who fall into those habits can’t tell the difference.

And I get why people write them. They want to see the characters they love not be dealt a shitty hand and actually change their world for the better in a way that’s new and interesting and gives the characters, who they think deserve it, a happily ever after.

But you don’t have to compromise a good, believable story for the sake of achieving that happily ever after.

(I know that this is a very specific, very niche topic within this fandom, but I just had to say it.)

[frazzledsoul]

No one:

no one at all:

absolutely no one in the history of the universe:

me: Wouldn't it be great if Kristofer Hivju and Nikolaj Foster Waldau played dueling dads in a My Big Fat Greek Wedding esque comedy?

Until Hollywood grants us this wish, here is my outline for the modern AU no one asked for, aka My Big Fat Westerosi Wedding:

Myrcella Lannister (we'll explain that in a minute) and Tormund's younger daughter Magritte are getting married at Casterly Rock! But getting their respective families to get through the ceremony without killing each other may prove to be a challenge.

Jaime and Cersei never developed an incestuous relationship. Per that old interview with Nik, Cersei initiated something when they were about 14 and he was all 'Uh....no.' Cersei married Robert and had Joffrey. Jaime married some woman from high society in the Netherlands and had Myrcella and Tommem and was widowed.

Jaime met Brienne when she was touring during whatever the modern Westerosi equivalent of a Renaissance festival is as a brave lady knight. Myrcella wanted to learn how to joust, Jaime protested, Brienne told him what an idiot he was, sparks flew, they fell in love, and of course Myrcella learned how to joust. They married and had three more kids: Galladon, Arthur, and Joanna.

Tormund and Val's teenage marriage resulted in two daughters: Alsi and Magritte. They split up, and a few years later Jon (then in his late teens) was hiking up North with Ghost when Ghost got hurt and Tormund nursed him back to life at a wildlife sanctuary. They fell in love and settled north of Winterfell (somewhere in the vicinity of The Gift), where they raised the girls and their adopted son Einar.

Jon's backstory is pretty similar to canon Jon: Rhaegar did run off with teenage Lyanna, Jon was the result, they tried to make it work but Rhaegar still is a fuck up overpraised by his family, so it fell apart. Elia took the two older kids and went back to Dorne: she doesn't resent Jon and is supportive of his relationship with his half siblings. Lyanna raised Jon on the outskirts on the Winterfell property. Catelyn was a little resentful, but mostly because Lyanna never got her own place.

Rhaegar stayed on Dragonstone with the rest of the Targaryens, except for Aerys because fuck Aerys. That fucker’s staying dead. Viserys and Rhaegar are close in age and Dany is much younger.

Rhaegar is a charming and well meaning fuck up but Viserys is just a regular fuck up. Dany calls him her "little brother" because he's such a mess.

Dany and Jon have a cousin-esque relationship. Nothing ever developed between them because well, ew and also they are both gay AF. Jon came out in his teens, Dany in her early 20s. She and Drogo had already had Rhae by then. Drogo is a nice guy and a good dad, let's say he has Jason Momoa's RL personality. He lives in Braavos and runs a wrestling training facility with Gregor Clegane because why the hell not. Dany settled down with Yara, who lives with her on Dragonstone. They have no other kids.

Dany and Jon kind of bonded due to their coming out struggles and feeling like an outsider in their families (Jon semi accepted by the Starks, Dany being a late in life child who was not given the attention her brothers were). Rhae and Einar are the kind of cousins who don't live close to each other but are inseparable agents of chaos whenever they see each other.

Ygritte is Tormund's cousin. She and Viserys regularly get together at family functions and proceed to outdrink and outparty everyone.

So Magritte wanted to see the rest of Westeros after HS while Alsi stayed close to home. She saved Myrcella's life while working at a nature preserve in the Westerlands and they fell in love. They plan to stay in the Westerlands.

So the major conflict here comes with the girls marrying so young (Myrcella is 22, Magritte is 19) and outside of their cultures. Val is OK with Magritte moving away, but her dads are definitely not.

Jaime is having anxiety because his little girl is growing up and getting married and what happens when the rest of them do it, too? So this all plays out in many, many arguments over the ceremony and the fact that Magritte is NOT getting married in a weirwood per tradition.

Eventually Magritte has it out with Tormund and reminds him that when he married Jon Jon was barely put of his teens and he married into a crazy high class family but it worked out and he should trust her.

Tormund says he does but later on Jon has to comfort him because it was happening too fast and he was expecting Alsi to leave first and he wasn't ready and Jon says he wasn't either.

Brienne has to calm Jaime down in in a similar way and reminds him that they have many other children who will eventually leave home and they should hope they all leave home when they're ready (she has been spending all afternoon commiserating with Catelyn about Lyanna not moving away from the estate until after Jon got married).

Eventually they come to a compromise: Myrcella and Magriite will have a separate ceremony in the weirwood when they visit at the end of the year. Also you know the picture of the skull that's been going around social media with a sword through its head? Jon and Tormund have two of them. Einar and Rhae hold those up at the ceremony.

Jon and Brienne both have very nice moments with their respective stepdaughters right before the ceremony about how marrying into someone else's family is challenging but that having the girls in their lives was one of the things that made it worth it. Meanwhile, both Jaime and Tormund are way too emotional and end up crying.

Ygritte and Rhaegar dance on a few tables during the receptiom and end up breaking them.

Val hooks up with Viserys, because YOLO.

Rhaegar tries to drunkenly serenade Lyanna at some point and fails.

Arthur Dayne is there and Jaime, Jon, and Tormund are bowled over how perfect and charming he is. Brienne still doesn’t really see it (despite the fact that one of her kids is named after him).

So the Starks really don't have a lot to do in this scenario, but I will say that Arya and Gendry are together and are involved in all the yelling about family traditions. Robb and Sansa are sharing Theon and it's remarked how that's a more unconventional arrangement than anyone else's.

Alsi ends up hooking up with Edric Dayne and decides to leave with him to explore Dorne. Meanwhile, Tommen cozies up to Margaery and while not much happens, he takes her up on an invitation to visit The Reach within the next few weeks. So both couples have to accept that their other kids will eventually grow up, but that's life. They return home with the younger members of their families.

[ligawolfcosplayandarts]

New ASOIaF OC x Canon dropped:

Aerin receives tabbard from Ser Gregor and she is his right hand, and leader next to him.

Need to draw nore of Aerin sporting Three Dogs on Yellow Field tabbard.

Gregor's POV . She is so 🤏🏻 and cute to him. 😭💖

[itsfinallybedtime]

Change Your Mind

“You’re my family too, Sandor.” A high school AU

A gift for @book-pirate for the Sansan Secret Santa in July.

A monster. A freak.

Something the other children like to call me every time they see me. Even those adults who act all good and understanding were no different with them labeling me with wretched names behind my back. Just because of my scarred face.

I hate this place so bad. I hate school. I hate my stupid classmates. I hate the teachers. I fucking hate Gregor for ruining my life. I hate my father for turning a blind eye to the abuse.

I absolutely loathe everything. It’s suffocating me. The looks, the scorns, the whispers, they do.

Should I be judged because of how I look?

It doesn’t matter. Nothing interests me. No friends to call without their parents telling them my life story.

He had nothing…

That was until I met her…

It was her who had changed my mind.

Sandor Clegane was seventeen when he first met Sansa Stark.

She was a new student in his school.

She was a year younger than him but he could not help but hear rumors about her the moment she transferred to his school. Lovely. Beautiful. Kind. Popular. She was everything he wasn’t. And he was confident she was either a naïve little girl or a two-faced bitch. Sandor certainly couldn’t understand her popularity. Maybe it’s the novelty of her being from Winterfell or whatnot. But the boys, no matter what year, would not shut up about the girl.

Compared to him, Sandor was a bulky and awkward looking teen who wore second handed clothes to school every day. His scarred face was hidden by his long hair. And despite constant reprimands from the teacher, he refused to cut his hair short. Added to that, his reputation of being a well-known troublemaker, the teachers either resented him or were finally tired of having to deal with his crap.

He was the Hound, damnit! He was short-tempered and vindictive to anyone. They kept chanting it. They kept looking at him as though they anticipated him to be a rebel from the start… So Sandor became one. He did what they expected him to do.

So how did the ugly hound meet the lovely little bird from Winterfell?

It all took was a single day to establish a connection between them.

Shockingly enough, it was Joffrey Baratheon who was the catalyst of their relationship.

Joffrey the psychopath was a bully. Blond, handsome and stupidly rich was all that mattered especially in a school full of impressionable kids. He was the “King” and at the top of the hierarchy. And it became apparent that he had locked on his sights to the new girl in school.

Sandor was throwing punches in the sand bag when he heard the school gym door shut, “What the f-”

There in front of him was a flustered Sansa Stark blocking the only way out. Her usually braided hair was loose and her school vest gone, leaving her clutching her unbuttoned blouse in an attempt to preserve some sort of modesty. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he catches the attention of the girl.

Raising her pretty face at the sound, she almost screamed when her gaze fell upon his scarred face. But the sound of rambunctious male laughter made her freeze. Using her other hand, she forced herself to stay quiet.

Frowning, Sandor noted her obvious distress. Listening at the taunting male voice, he immediately identified the Baratheon spawn.

“Oh Sansa~ Why don’t we stop playing hide-and-seek and start our initiation. Don’t you want to be my girlfriend?” Baratheon snickered.

Sansa began to tremble in fear. She squeezed her eyes shut praying for it all to go away.

Sandor paused. Was it worth it to raise the ire of the blond psychopath or not?

“No need to be shy, Sansa! You looked really pretty pinned on the ground.” Baratheon kept spouting his nasty thoughts while making his other peers jeer.

Disgusted at the blond prick, Sandor made a decision. “Little bird, get over here.”

Her stunningly blue eyes made contact with his. He tried to make his face as less threatening as possible but only manage to show her a grimace. She hesitated and nodded as she began to quietly walk towards him.

Sandor pointed at the locker room, “Just stay there and keep quiet if you don’t want to get his attention.”

She wavered to get in the foul smelling room, “How can I trust you, sir?”

Scowling in annoyance, Sandor responded, “Fucking hell, little bird. I’m only a year older than you. And I am certainly no sir.”

Blushing in embarrassment, “Oh. Forgive me-”

Pushing her in the room, Sandor grunted, “Just get in and shut up.”

The moment he closed the locker room, he hears a loud bang from the gym door.

“Oh if it isn’t the Hound!” Baratheon sneered.

Sandor glared, “What the fuck do you want, Baratheon?”

“Nothing really. Just playing a game. Though have you lately seen a pretty red head pass by this room?”

“No.”

“You better not be lying to me, Hound. Or I’ll make your life even more miserable in this school.”

“Do I look like a give a fuck? And no, I did not notice some red-headed chick pass by. I was busy punching this bag to release stress but who knows I may just be tempted to do the same to some egotistical brat and his goons.”

Furious, the blond prick and his goons left after saying, “You’re lucky I’m busy with the girl or else-”

Once he was sure they were gone from the building, Sandor grabbed his school blazer and knocked at the locker room.

When he hears the door open, he shoves his blazer to her face, “Wear this.”

Sandor nearly flushes pink as he felt her fingers make contact with his but her quiet ‘thank you’ kept him controlled.

“My name is Sansa Stark,” she said the moment she felt herself looking decent.

“I know.”

“Oh.”

Awkward silence reined.

“May I know your name then?” she persisted.

“Clegane. Sandor Clegane.”

“Thank you again Sandor.” Despite his clothes almost swallowing her whole, Sansa still manage to look elegant as she offered her hand.

Ignoring her hand, he said instead, “Do I want to know what just happened?”

“I…. I was just waiting for Margaery in the classroom so we could go home together when Joffrey and his friends came in and told me it was time for my initiation….”

“Basically the initiation was him fucking you,” Sandor growled.

She flinched at his tone. Her lips began to quiver as tears fell down, “I just wanted to be friends. And they- he was so nice when we met.”

“Yeah? Well he’s a two-faced bastard, little bird.”

Rubbing her tears off with the sleeves of his blazer, “Yeah. I unfortunately got that a little too late.”

As she tried to compose herself, Sandor murmured, “Do you want me to take you home?”

“What?”

Grabbing his bag and towel, he said louder, “I’m talking you home.”

Blinking curiously, she smiled at him and gently said, “Okay.”

They left the school in silence as they walked side by side. It was unusual for Sandor because despite the silence they did not seem to feel awkward with each other.

That might as well have been a start of their friendship.

Ever since that day the two of them can be seen more or less together for most of their free time.

The first time it happened, it was Sansa who initiated contact.

Sandor was in the cafeteria with the intention to grab lunch when he felt a hand grab his sleeves. His glaring faltered when he saw the person grabbing him.

With her cheeks pink, Sansa greeted, “Hello Sandor. Do you want to eat with me?”

Before Sandor could even think of an excuse to say no, he unconsciously nodded. Seeing his affirmation, Sansa smiled brightly and began to pull him away from the cafeteria, “I made too much food earlier and wanted to share some with you! I hope you don’t mind eating with me in the school garden.”

They two left the cafeteria with the students gaping at their backs.

She didn’t seem to mind his rude and cynical attitude and he learned to tolerate her ridiculously polite manner of speaking to practically every living thing.

While Sandor began to slowly accept their budding relationship, the school reacted otherwise. The teachers looked worried and hesitant about his possible influence on her. The boys were just envious of him having spent more time with Sansa. But Sandor couldn’t really care less what they think.  

He’ll be honest, it felt weird having someone constant by his side and when he told Sansa about it two months after the incident, she just looked at him with her usual unbearable understanding self.

“You can get used to it, Sandor. I was actually scared of you at first since you kept glaring at everybody. And the fact that you like to beat the crap out of anyone who looks at you wrong didn’t exactly help with my impression of you. But now, I am really glad to have been your friend. You’ve certainly changed my mind.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her words. “And I thought you would have been a pompous rich little bird but not everything is as it seems.”

Their bond grew even more when they began to spend time outside of school. She told him her interest in sewing and showed him her collection of patterns she made which he actually found impressive but just grunted in agreement at whatever was being said as she kept going on and on about color combination and stuff he could not understand.

On the other hand he brought her to the combat classes he’s been taking near his home. He began teaching her self-defense in hopes of keeping her safe in case he wasn’t be around.

Their interests may not have matched but for some god forsaken reason, they still work out.

One year passed and they were closer than ever. The teachers were now more accepting of their friendship after Sansa proved them wrong about him being a bad influence when she kept her grades up and stayed at the top. And hoping to aggravate them less, Sandor tried to avoid starting fights but will retaliate when provoked. At this point Sansa is the only one who can keep him calm.

As for the students, Joffrey actually tried to molest Sansa once again three months after his first attempt but Sandor had beaten the crap out of him. He was actually about to be expelled but Sansa furiously defended him and even brought her father to school. When Sansa bravely confessed about Joffrey’s harassment to her, her father was furious. The blond prick was forced to transfer after Ned Stark confronted Robert Baratheon of his actions. Sandor ended up having only to spend two weeks in detention.

Plus it seems he was in good graces with her family. Except for the She-Wolf, Sansa’s little sister, who was too fierce, ruthless and rough to actually be her sibling. Sansa claims she’s actually fond of Sandor but he remains cautious around the brat.

Now that Sandor was in his senior year, Sansa had asked him about his plans after high school. He admitted he wanted to join the army just to get away from his family. He also told her the real reason why his face is scarred and Sansa wept for him.

Sandor never wanted anything to do with them after all. His sister was long dead. His brother was still a terrible human being. And his father remained ignorant. He had no family he wanted to acknowledge.

Gently cupping his face, Sansa whispered to him, “Oh Sandor, even after having so many siblings I had no one I could connect with. I always wanted to be the model child to make my parents happy. It was something Arya detested about me. But ever since I met you, you’ve changed my perspective, Sandor. You’ve given me the connection I yearned.”

Her smile turned even radiant as she added, “You may think you have no one but you’re my family too, Sandor.”

Sandor Clegane had always love Sansa Stark ever since she gave him a handmade scarf the same color as her charming blue eyes as thanks for lending her his blazer. So he did not think he could fall even harder in love with his little bird. But in that moment he did.

Gently grabbing her hands from his face and placing it close to his chest, he smiled, “Thank you, little bird.”

Walking side by side, Sandor did not let go of her hand until he brought her safe back home.

One month before his graduation, Sansa confessed.

Sandor had every intention of doing so first but fear got to him. He was scared of losing the only friend that he ever had. After all she was the only person who actually took the time to understand him despite his scarred face and terrible temper. So every time he attempted to say something, he loses his nerve and changes the subject instead.

Apparently since he was taking too long, Sansa took matters into her own hands.

There were spending their lunch in the garden when Sansa said, “Sandor?”

He grunted in response as he kept shoving food in his mouth.

“You know it’s almost two years since we met... And now you’re about to graduate and leave…”

Sandor paused his eating as he tried to finish chewing the food already in his mouth. Glancing back down at her, he noticed her face become more and more pink.

“Sandor I… I-”

Realizing where this was going, Sandor wanted to confess to her first but his plans of swallowing his food too fast ended up in him almost choking which distracted Sansa from her speech as she tried to help him.

Sandor was coughing loudly and tried to get some semblance of control when Sansa gently patted his back and giggled. After a few seconds of silence, Sansa looked at Sandor straight in the face and with confidence finally said, “I love you, Sandor Clegane.”

He stared back at her and tried to control the emotions in his face and to keep cool but in the end, he could not help but grin like a fool, “I love you too, Sansa Stark.”

Three Years Later…

“We’ve been in the same unit for two years, Clegane, and I have yet to see your girlfriend!” Tormund Giantsbane said.

“Fiancée. And I have no fucking intention of letting you meet her and harass her.”

���WHAT?! I would never harm a lady!”

“I meant annoy her with your presence.”

“You wound me, Clegane! At least show me pictures!”

Raising his eyebrow, Sandor responded smugly, “A normal camera couldn’t possibly capture her presence.”

Tormund almost blushed in embarrassment, “You lovesick idiot. I can’t be-” before he could continue his rant, Sandor’s phone rang and the man immediately answered.

“Sansa,” Sandor said reverently. Standing up and leaving the office, Sandor gave Tormund the middle finger when the dwarf began making kissy noises to pester him.

“I miss you, Sandor.”

“I miss you too, little bird.”

“Soon?”

“Two more months and I’ll stationed permanently in Winterfell.”

“And in three more months and you’ll officially be part of my family, Sandor.”

Sandor grinned, “Yes.”

“You sure you don’t want to invite your friends in the army to our wedding?”

“I’d rather not. They’re too annoying.”

“Which means you like them.”

“I’m not changing my mind. I’m their squad leader. They might use the opportunity to act all chummy.”

Sansa chuckled, “Uh-huh. Well I’ve still got few more months to change your mind.”

“See you soon, Sansa.”

“I’ll see you soon, Sandor.”

[fakexface]

Part 1

I don’t know if anyone remembers, but a few months back, I wrote out an entire AU where Rhaegar Targaryen survived, and how that ended up changing the series. So, here’s this. I’ll post it in 6 parts, because this is VERY long. But since it’s Targaryen Appreciation Month, I figured this would be a good time.  After the Battle is where my own canon starts up, and it is where I begin to take a LOT of liberties. I don’t own Rhaegar or any of these characters, I did this purely for roleplay purposes and figured hey, I put in three weeks time on making this mesh well, why not share it? And if you do end up using any of the headcanons that I used in here, please reference back to these posts. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝓣𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝔀𝓮 𝓰𝓸 𝓽𝓸 𝔀𝓪𝓻; 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓰𝓸𝓭𝓼. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ •Prince Rhaegar was the firstborn son of King Aerys II Targaryen and Queen Rhaella. He was born at Summerhall in 259 AC, on the same day as the Great Tragedy there. As a child he read obsessively, to the point that jests were made about his habits. He became a noted warrior later in life, although he did not initially seem inclined to martial habits. However, apparently by something he had read, Rhaegar became motivated to become a warrior.

•At the age of seventeen, Rhaegar was knighted, and from all reports grew into a highly skilled and capable fighter, always distinguishing himself well at tournaments, although he seldom entered the lists - he never loved the song of swords the way that men like Robert Baratheon or Jaime Lannister did.

•Rhaegar's squires were Myles Mooton and Richard Lonmouth, and after he knighted them they remained close companions. Jon Connington, whom he had squired with, was a good friend to Rhaegar as well. Returning from a trip to Dorne, Rhaegar once visited the Connington seat of Griffin's Roost. His songs brought the castle's women to tears, while Lord Armond Connington sought House Targaryen's support against rival House Morrigen. Rhaegar's closest and oldest friend, however, was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, trusting him more than Ser Barristan Selmy.

•Rhaegar often liked to visit the ruins of Summerhall with only his harp and when he returned he sang songs of such beauty they could reduce women to tears. Although Rhaegar was often dour, private and bookish, Cersei Lannister noted at the tournament in honor of Viserys's birth in Lannisport in 276 AC that the smallfolk cheered for Lord Tywin Lannister twice as much as for King Aerys II, but only half as loudly for Tywin as for Rhaegar. Rhaegar fought well in the tourney besting a dozen skilled knights, among them Barristan Selmy, Gerion, and Tygett Lannister but was defeated in the champion's tilt by his friend Arthur Dayne. Aerys refused Tywin's offer at the tourney to betroth Cersei to Rhaegar. Rhaegar defeated Arthur in the tourney at Storm's End.

•Rhaegar was born at a time when the Targaryen's had declined, and once he came of age, there was no sister, or anyone else of their bloodline, available for him to marry. King Aerys sent his first cousin, Lord Steffon Baratheon, to seek a bride for Rhaegar. Despite Valyrian blood still being present in Essos, Steffon could not find appropriate females of noble-enough birth for Rhaegar to wed.

•After this in early 279 AC, Rhaegar was formally betrothed to the Dornish princess, Elia Martell, the younger sister of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. They married the following year in 280 AC, a lavish ceremony was held at the Great Sept of Baelor. His father did not attend the wedding as he was paranoid about an assassination attempt and nor did he permit the young Prince Viserys to attend. Rhaegar and his father's relationship was straining at this point, and he and his new bride took up residence on Dragonstone instead of King's Landing. Rhaegar and Elia had their first child, a girl named Rhaenys, in 280 AC. When the babe was presented at court, Rhaegar's mother, Queen Rhaella, embraced her grandchild warmly while King Aerys remarked: "she smells Dornish". The relationship between Aerys and Rhaegar became more and more estranged.

•Elia and Rhaegar had a son they named Aegon. Elia, due to her delicate health, was bed-ridden for half a year after giving birth to Rhaenys and nearly died giving birth to Aegon, after which the maesters told Rhaegar she would be unable to have any more children.

•Maester Aemon, whom Rhaegar corresponded with via raven messages, remembers that Rhaegar believed his child Aegon to be the prince that was promised.

•When Lord Tywin resigned his position as Hand of the King and left court, the new focus of King Aerys's mistrust and paranoia was his own son and heir, Prince Rhaegar. At court, there was growing tension between factions loyal to the king and to the prince. Grand Maester Pycelle dispatched a letter to the Citadel, writing that tensions and division at court strongly resembled those before the Dance of the Dragons. Pycelle was fearful a civil war would break out unless some accord could be reached that would satisfy both factions.

•In 280 AC, Lord Walter Whent announced a tourney would be held at Harrenhal to rival any previous tournament. It is believed by some that the tourney was secretly arranged and financed by Prince Rhaegar, as a pretext, so Rhaegar could meet up with the great lords of the realm to discuss arranging a Great Council and the removal of his father. The tournament was announced by Walter shortly after his brother, Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard, visited his older brother. When Lord Varys alerted Aerys II to this possibility, the king decided to attend the tourney.

•During the great tourney at Harrenhal, Rhaegar seemed unstoppable and defeated even Ser Arthur Dayne. Taking the winter rose crown for the queen of love and beauty, he revealed his interest in Lyanna Stark by passing over his wife, Princess Elia of Dorne, and setting it in Lyanna's lap. Eddard Stark later recalled that moment as "when all the smiles died". The next year, Rhaegar seemingly kidnapped Lyanna, for reasons unknown. This act ultimately triggered Robert's Rebellion and the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty.

•Some believe that Rhaegar spent the beginning of Robert's Rebellion, also known as the War of the Usurper, with Lyanna Stark at the tower of joy in the Red Mountains of Dorne. King Aerys sent Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, to retrieve Rhaegar. Leaving Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur Dayne, and Ser Oswell Whent at the tower, Rhaegar returned to the crownlands and took command of the Targaryen army after the defeat of his friend Jon Connington in the battle of the Bells. Ser Jaime Lannister was left at the Red Keep to protect Rhaegar's father and family.

•Rhaegar met Lord Robert Baratheon in combat at a ford during the battle of the Trident, where the pair had a legendary duel in the raging rivers of the Trident. Rhaegar, despite wounding Robert, was struck down with a massive blow from Robert's warhammer, which scattered the rubies encrusted in Rhaegar's armor into the water. Despite receiving a mortal wound, he survived. However, he was knocked unconscious, and thinking him dead, Robert left him.

•Upon waking, Rhaegar found himself alone. The wound had cut through his chest cleanly, baring bone. He could not remove his armor on his own; thus, he forced himself to his feet and half stumbled, half crawled to the nearest Inn- Crossroads Inn. The Innkeep, alarmed and confused, took Rhaegar in and did their best to patch him up. During all of this, his mother and Viserys were spirited away to Dragonstone Island while his father was slain upon his throne by Jaime Lannister. His wife and children were murdered by The Mountain, Gregor Clegane.

•Hearing this news, he laid low, keeping his head down and going as far as to color his hair with bricks of dye, darkening the ivory locks to a muddy blonde. He sold the few rubies that remained from his armor for safe (and secret) passage to Dragonstone. It had taken him nearly eight months to completely heal, in which he went by a false name and claimed he was a bastard- a Rivers. He’d learned of his former wife, Elia’s, death- of his children’s murder, of his father’s murder. Usurped by none other than Jaime Lannister.

•He arrived at Dragonstone the day of the great storm, where he bore witness to the birth of his sister, Daenerys. Try as he might, his mother bled far too much, and passed on due to the complicated birth. He, along with Viserys, Daenerys, and Ser WIllem Dary fled to the Free Cities. There, for fifteen years, they remained, being welcomed with open arms. Rhaegar, the true heir of the Iron Throne, was well sought-after by family after family; a twice-widowed Targaryen prince. He, along with his siblings, find solace with Magister Illyrio Mopatis, who allows them to live within his estate in the Free City of Pentos.

•He takes time to write in secret to Aemon Targaryen, a distant relative who is stationed on the Wall, having taken the Black long ago, requesting information- if any- on Ned Stark and the “bastard” that he has. Aemon responds that there is a new Bastard, but knows nothing more.

•This thus has Rhaegar writing and sending a raven to Ned Stark, explaining that yes, he is alive- his siblings live, as well. His mother perished, but they are alive, and in Essos, laying low. He requests that Ned look after Aegon and Lyanna, believing her to still be living. 

•Ned writes back, simply stating that Lyanna died shortly after giving birth to Aegon, who Ned has taken in as his bastard and will be going by the name Jon Snow, and that he would not tell Jon of his true parentage until the time is right. Reading that Lyanna is dead breaks something in Rhaegar, and for a short time, he becomes melancholic and reclusive, refusing to speak or work on gaining favor with the families in Essos, grieving for Lyanna and Elia simultaneously- both women he loved, now dead. 

•While the Dothraki screamers were a tempting alliance- he did not make one with them. No, instead, he let them be. Rather, he held a minor celebration for his youngest sibling, Daenerys- a coming of age celebration. Illyrio Mopatis brings forth a surprising gift- dragon’s eggs. Rhaegar questioned him on how he came to hold such treasures, but only received riddles in response. Ser Jorah Mormont, a knight of Westeros, brings books about the Seven Kingdoms and offers Rhaegar his service. Daenerys is given a beautiful white mare.

•That night, before beginning their journey across Essos, Daenerys requests a bath. Rather than waiting for it to cool, she enters it. Alarmed, the handmaiden fetches Rhaegar, claiming that his sister is going to hurt herself. Rather than be alarmed, Rhaegar is pleased- claiming simply that fire cannot kill a dragon. He later reveals that he himself prefers to take his baths beyond scalding temperature, for it soothes the phantom pains he holds in his chest. Viserys is the only one who disagrees.

•They begin the slow trek across Essos, coming into contact with the Dothraki unintentionally. Rhaegar makes is clear that they are merely traveling, explains who they are, and finds himself and his companions brought before the Great Khal himself, Khal Drogo. The situation, while tense, plays out in their favor: Rhaegar manages to convince the Khal to allow them to travel with the Dothraki, just through the Grass Sea.

•During their travels, Rhaegar keeps Daenerys under strict guard, ordering Jorah to keep her with him at all times. While he did not want to assume, he also did not want anything to happen to his baby sister. He himself rode near the Khal often; a quick learner, he was able to pick up the language surprisingly fast, well enough to hold a simple conversation or ask simple questions. Doreah, a handmaid gifted to them for Daenerys, grows close to Viserys during this time.

•During one of the final nights they would be riding with the Dothraki, Rhaegar approaches Daenerys with an idea. The eggs, while they may be stone, might be opened- with fire. At first, Daenerys assumes he means for her to simply place the eggs in the fire, until he speaks a common phrase amongst the Targaryens: fire cannot kill a dragon. Viserys claims that his older brother has gone insane. Rhaegar does not reply. Instead, he watches as his baby sister strides into the flames, holding two eggs- the final being held by Rhaegar himself. He remembered having read in a book long ago, before the Sack of King’s Landing, how a dragon’s egg would be bathed in flame before hatching.

•Lo and behold, he was right. And behind his sister he strode confidently through the flames. While she hatched two dragons, a vivid black and red and a vermillion and gold, he came through with the final one: a gold and red dragon.

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐰𝐨 •They depart from one another after traversing the Grass Sea; the Dothraki to Vaes Dothrak, and Rhaegar and company to Qarth with their new dragons. Viserys, acting as scribe for Rhaegar, documents this occasion in detail. Their arrival to Qarth is not as welcoming as Rhaegar had expected. The Thirteen, the ruling council, refuse them entry unless they show their dragons- which Rhaegar and Daenerys both vehemently refuse to do.

•When it seems she will be turned away, the Qartheen dignitary Xaro Xhoan Daxos vouches for them and their people, against the order of the Spice King.

•Rhaegar and his surviving people are made guests in Xaro's lavish home. Slowly, he and Daenerys begin to teach their dragons to cook and eat their own meat, and slowly begin breathing fire on command. Rhaegar seeks out any sort of information he could find in the form of books or old scriptures. Daenerys suggests to Doreah that she use her skill as a lover to find out more about Xaro, who happily agrees. Their host holds a reception for the Targaryen siblings, introducing them to Pyat Pree of the Warlocks of Qarth. He demonstrates his magic by replicating himself and invites Daenerys alone to visit his order at the House of the Undying. Rhaegar does not approve of this, though Daenerys does not listen.

•Xaro suggests that Ser Jorah has feelings for Daenerys but she denies this. Xaro shows the siblings the Valyrian stone vault that guards his fortune and offers to fund their return to Westeros in exchange for Daenerys’ hand in marriage. He relays news of the death of King Robert Baratheon. Rhaegar secretly revels in the joy of this information. Daenerys seeks the council of Ser Jorah and Rhaegar. She is eager to seize the opportunity, but both men counsel against entering Xaro's debt. Jorah reveals the depth of his feeling for her and his hope for the ruler that she will become. She agrees to take the harder path that he suggests, but does not acknowledge his affection. Rhaegar becomes troubled with this knowledge, but does not speak to Jorah about his feelings.

•Later, Rhaegar, Daenerys, and Viserys try to negotiate with the Spice King for ships to return to Westeros. However, he considers it to be too risky an investment – considering that they have no army and no open supporters in Westeros – and they receive nothing. Rhaegar states that he will take what is rightfully theirs with Fire and Blood, but the Spice King remarks they will have to do it without his ships.

•Daenerys, Rhaegar, and Viserys unsuccessfully appeal to more of the merchant nobles of Qarth to lend them ships. After meeting with them, they return to Xaro's home to find that it has been attacked; half of their men have been brutally murdered, and Doreah and the dragons are missing. Unbeknown to them, Doreah has taken their dragons to the House of the Undying, due to an alliance with Xaro and Pyat Pree.

•Xaro hosts a council of the Thirteen so Rhaegar, Viserys, and Daenerys can appeal to them for aid. During the meeting, Pyat Pree reveals that he was responsible and Xaro announces his intention to seize control of the city, as the new King of Qarth. The warlock uses his magic, creating thirteen duplicates to murder the rest of the Thirteen. Rhaegar draws his blade, intent on fighting, though Viserys convinces him to flee with himself and Dany. However, Pyat Pree appears to them, only to be stabbed through the back by Jorah. The stabbed Pyat is revealed to be another one of the duplicates. He repeats his invitation to Daenerys, telling her that her children are at the House of the Undying.

•They take refuge in a disused courtyard, where Jorah advises Daenerys and Rhaegar to leave their dragons and flee Qarth, as he has recently booked passage to Astapor. Daenerys insists on attempting to reclaim them and asks Ser Jorah to lead her to the House of the Undying, without knowing what lies in wait. Rhaegar agrees, stating that he and Viserys will create a diversion for them.

•Daenerys arrives at House of the Undying and is magically separated from Jorah and Kovarro. She finds herself in an empty circular room with many doors.

•She chooses one and opens it. She is presented with tempting visions. First the snowy, ruined throne room of King's Landing where she turns away from the Iron Throne. She then walks through the gates of the Wall surrounded by more snow, and into a tent. She finds Khal Drogo and what could have been her infant son Rhaego. They talk about whose dream they are in, and Daenerys silently leaves after touching Rhaego's hair.

•Meanwhile, Rhaegar and Viserys are causing chaos, fighting against a few of Xaro’s men before Rhaegar tells Viserys to go after Daenerys, that he has a bad feeling. Viserys agrees and leaves, which leaves Rhaegar to fight against three men.

•In the meantime, Daenerys returns to the room with many doors and finds the dragons chained to a pedestal in front of her. Pyat Pree appears and explains that she and her brood are the source of his restored magic. Daenerys is also chained by Pyat's magic. The young Targaryen is unconcerned however, and simply regards Pree with a cool, almost lazy gaze. She calmly utters a single word: "Dracarys"; after a couple of tries, all three dragons unleash their fiery breath, and Pyat Pree is incinerated.

•Daenerys knows that Xaro has betrayed them. She finds Viserys outside of the House of the Undying, and together, they return to Xaro’s palace to confront him. Rhaegar joins them shortly after, wounded but not mortally. They return and find Doreah in bed with him. Daenerys takes his key and uses it to open his Valyrian stone vault. They are surprised when it is empty, but observes that this proves something can easily come from nothing. Rhaegar suggested that Doreah be executed for her treason against the Targaryen crown. Daenerys disagreed. On Daenerys’s orders, Doreah and Xaro are locked into the empty vault to die, their pleas cut off by the closing door. Daenerys salvages enough from Xaro's household to buy a ship. The siblings seize Xaro's gold and jewels; no one attempts to stop them, not with the dragons that rest upon Daenerys and Rhaegar’s shoudlers.

•Rhaegar states that he wishes to travel farhter across Essos soon; there is a company of soldiers who were formed beneath a bastard of Aegon Targaryen that they could use in retaking their homeland. Rhaegar also brings a select few soldiers from Qarth that served beneath Xaro, the beginnings of an army.

[ao3feed-briennejaime]

you did your worst. you tried your best.

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2LeMUwr

by angel_deux

Cowboy/Outlaw AU heavily inspired by Red Dead Redemption 2.

Jaime is his sister's creature. They've been running from the law for years. Created their own gang. Had their own code of honor.

Things were good, once. But Jaime hasn't felt good about the gang in a while. And then they meet Brienne.

Words: 3506, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, Cersei Lannister, Euron Greyjoy, Gregor Clegane, Podrick Payne, Olenna Tyrell

Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth

Additional Tags: Inspired by Red Dead Redemption 2, old west au, Cowboy au?, outlaw au, basically Cersei runs a gang and Brienne joins so she can kill Stannis, really only the first part and the last part are very RDR2, but those parts are EXTREMELY RDR2, Because Show Jaime is Arthur Morgan and I will not be taking any further questions, there's a handjob in a lake at one point if that sweetens the pot a little, warning for some jaime/cersei, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2LeMUwr

[khruseosold]

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT MEME REPOST. DO NOT REBLOG.

FULL NAME: Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell GENDER & SEXUALITY: Male / Bisexual ETHNICITY & SPECIES: Dornish (Salty), otherworldly good-looking human. BIRTHPLACE & BIRTHDATE: Sunspear,  257 AC. GUILTY PLEASURES: Hey Lottie, they have something in common— more than enough pleasures, and absolutely none he feels guilty over. PHOBIAS: Phobia is a very big word; I’m answering none, well, beyond the fear we all feel in heart regarding family, especially considering what has happened to his sister, niece and nephew. Beyond that, I don’t see another crippling fear. WHAT THEY WOULD BE INFAMOUS FOR: Ah, the famous quote that works a bit too well to answer this with, but we’ll do it anyway because we’re doing a sum-up of canonically confirmed. Let’s see, poisoning his dagger in combat/duel with Edgar Yronwood that led to the Lord’s death, while it was a duel to first blood. Fathering more bastards than even Robert Baratheon himself and bedding regardless of gender. WHAT HAVE THEY/WOULD THEY HAVE GOTTEN ARRESTED FOR: He would’ve been arrested at sixteen already, most likely. Even before the part during which a man died at his hand; the mere concept of dueling in such fashion has long since been banned. But then again, it’s also illegal to walk around armed in any way in numerous western countries— so yes, I mean. CHARACTER YOU SHIP THEM WITH: Speaking serious ships? Ellaria Sand stands very far first and foremost on his end and also in my list in terms of what interests me to write. Beyond that, little reminder that I’m not huge on shipping, so I’m not going to be the one to answer this with tons of options. AU potentials like Cersei Lannister and Oberyn exist, but I won’t lie, a lot of it does stem quite the chemistry Lena and Pedro had (I know, it’s the show, but do you remember the look on his face when she asks if she can show him the gardens and while he answers ‘I couldn’t very well refuse a royal escort’ and in the second that follows? That glance. And Cersei feels it/does a similar thing), But I’ll be approaching it cautiously and with plotting. CHARACTER MOST LIKELY TO MURDER THEM: Listen, we don’t talk about how it was Oberyn who was responsible for his own death. Gregor Clegane never actually won. FAVOURITE BOOK GENRE: There is no proper favorite, although if I had to note one so soon in my writing of him— I’d say either works linked to knowledge that could be practical to him, filling an arsenal of already rather extensive knowledge; or otherwise, perhaps, works of worlds long passed or far out of grasp, although they’d lack in practicality. But I don’t feel like there is a favorite, not yet, I’m not even sure if there would be one, as noting a favorite means that you’ve tried so much already that there’s not much else to touch upon and that contradicts his way of thinking to some extent. LEAST FAVOURITE BOOK CLICHÉ: That big, tall and broad means victory by default. ;) TALENTS OR POWERS: Renowned in combat (go-to weapon in planned battle is an eight feet long spear, equipped with a steel spearhead and spike, but he’s more commonly equipped with a dagger much more suited for closed quarters). Has a very quick-witted tongue that is complemented by being, as quoted ‘quick as a water snake’. While a very knowledgeable man through studies and travel/experience already; he’s well-versed in animal husbandry to an extent, along with some histories of Westeros and Essos at minimum, with at least two of his specializations including poisons and (if one believes Qyburn) magic. Raincheck on the rest? WHY SOMEONE MIGHT LOVE THEM: Because his loyalty, much like his brother’s and family as a whole, is larger than life itself. And as much was proven (despite his confidence also not lacking) when he decided to fight the Mountain, as it was his means to obtain justice for her and her children. Oberyn is very quick-witted, which creates for very strong one-liners that would make you smile in midst of short laughs, sometimes while you can’t help but facepalm. He’s unpredictable, which is a trait that can thrill you to the core as he’ll rarely do the same thing twice. He’s passionate. Passionate about his family, his paramour, his daughters, the knowledge he seeks and the world he travels and wants to experience before he meets his end. WHY SOMEONE MIGHT HATE THEM: See, the thing with Oberyn is that he’s often a man of extremes. So the traits he has that can make you adore him, can also have you dislike him. His sharp tongue is often unwanted and on top of which, very unfitting in  rather tiring (I’m sure Doran has plenty to say about this, or well, most of these). He’s very unpredictable, which can nothing short of thrilling but can also very definitely infuriate you, as you rarely know where you stand or how he’ll react. He’s already quite rash individual by default, add a temper to that mix and you can see why he has quite the reputation. HOW THEY CHANGE: That would indicate that his path changed on some level, or that his view or interests change, while they do but very little if they ever even do in the first place. Throughout his youth (however inseperable he and Elia were, despite how different they were), Oberyn has been described as having been ‘a monstrous young fellow', especially in his teen years, which serves as already quite a ‘starting’ explanation. Oberyn possess a strong energy and drive to him still as he ages, but they are now utilized with a more productive end and means. Although I do suppose he can still be quite the montrous handful if you asked his brother. WHY YOU LOVE THEM: For every single answer I’ve typed above and endless more.

TAGGED BY: @trickstercaptain (I love youuuuu, Lottie) TAGGING: @epiphonoi (for Frank or Dorian, or both if you’re up to it!), @lionhvrted (Ellaria), @killthebxy, @loialte (Steve), @tymptir (Sam!) @wineinthewidow, @praeludio (Arthur), @arcusignis, @truthsecn (Murtagh), @freckledsnack, @afelion (d’Artagnan), @ncthingleft and don’t mind me, but I want to fill this out on Ezio as well, so just as a reminder for myself: @iniziare