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jackoshadows · 2 years ago

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The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north - Jon Snow

Arya Stark and Jon Snow’s strong attachment for each other has been forged by otherness. The only two Stark children who looked like each other, ‘the odd birds’ as GRRM puts it.

And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now - Jon, AGoT

If only she could climb like Bran, she thought; she would go out the window and down the tower, run away from this horrible place, away from Sansa and Septa Mordane and Prince Joffrey, from all of them. Steal some food from the kitchens, take Needle and her good boots and a warm cloak. She could find Nymeria in the wild woods below the Trident, and together they’d return to Winterfell, or run to Jon on the Wall. She found herself wishing that Jon was here with her now. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone - Arya, AGoT

“I know where we could go,” Arya said. She still had one brother left. Jon will want me, even if no one else does. He’ll call me “little sister” and muss my hair. - Arya, ASoS

They associate each other with a sense of togetherness, happiness and home because growing up they are each other’s comfort zone and safe space in a world where they are made to feel as if they don’t belong. We know that Jon thinks Arya belongs with him - ‘Bring her home Mance’.

Reading their POV chapters after leaving KL, there is a sense of loneliness there - especially with Arya. She is searching, always searching, always trying to find a pack, somewhere she can belong. It’s telling that till the end of ASoS, she’s trying to get to Winterfell, Robb, Catelyn and Jon at the Wall. It’s only when the Captain of the galley refuses to take her to the Wall that she finally gives up on getting to the people she loves and decides to take passage to Braavos.

We see that Arya finds friends among the serving girls and cooks and their children because she can’t fit in with Sansa and her friends like Jeyne and Beth. Jeyne mocks and taunts her appearance and Beth has the same interests that Sansa does.

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody - Sansa, AGoT

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her “Arya Underfoot,” because he said that was where she always was. She’d liked that a lot better than “Arya Horseface.” - Arya, AGoT

We don’t get much in the books about Jon’s friends in Winterfell. I am assuming this is because, unlike with Arya and Sansa, he had a good relationship with Robb. They were brothers and friends. And yet, we also see this:

“Benfred has raised his own company of lances. Boys, none older than nineteen years, but every one thinks he’s another young wolf. When I told them they were only young rabbits, they laughed at me. Now they call themselves the Wild Hares and gallop about the country with rabbitskins tied to the ends of their lances, singing songs of chivalry.”

Bran thought that sounded grand. He remembered Benfred Tallhart, a big bluff loud boy who had often visited Winterfell with his father, Ser Helman, and had been friendly with Robb and with Theon Greyjoy. - Bran, ACoK

Notice how Benfred Tallhard is friends with Robb and Theon and not with Jon Snow. I am assuming there is not much interaction between the sons of other houses and Eddard Stark’s bastard. Similarly, Alys Karstark mentions her father bringing her to Winterfell to meet Robb Stark.

“You came to Winterfell with your father.” The father Robb beheaded. “I don’t recall what for.”

She blushed. “So I could meet your brother. Oh, there was some other pretext, but that was the real reason. I was almost of an age with Robb, and my father thought we might make a match. There was a feast. I danced with you and your brother both. He was very courteous and said that I danced beautifully. You were sullen. My father said that was to be expected in a bastard.” - Jon, ADWD

I think this is why Arya and Jon are able to quickly make friends outside of lords and ladies. They don’t fit in amongst their own circle and therefore find their packs elsewhere. Jon with his brothers at the Wall and Arya with her little pack in the Riverlands.

And while Arya is too young to understand the depth of the pain that Jon feels at his social ostracization, she considers him one of their own and defends him at every turn, right from the very start of the books.

“Poor Jon,” she said, “He gets jealous because he's a bastard.”

“He's our brother,” Arya said, much too loudly. - Arya, AGoT

“I did not!” she shouted. Jon Snow had given her Needle. Maybe she had to let them call her Lumpyhead, but she wasn’t going to let them call Jon a thief. - Arya, ACoK

And it’s because Jon is able to empathize with Arya’s sense of ‘not being good enough’ through circumstances beyond her own control that he is kind to her in a way that Ned and Catelyn are not. He understands her and what makes her tick. Him giving her Needle in secret (Don’t tell Sansa!) represents that understanding, an admiration and respect for Arya wanting to be who she is.

Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close. Jon had their father’s face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her." - Arya, AGoT

To compare this to a classic romance of cousins growing up together and falling in love, while Jon and Arya are vastly different to Edmund and Fanny in Mansfield Park, there’s some similarities in terms of the kindness and consideration Jon extends towards Arya. Edmund finding pen and paper for Fanny and Jon secretly getting Arya a sword. And Arya’s loyalty and love for Jon Snow mirrors the loyalty and love that Fanny has for Edmund (though Arya’s love is platonic for now and Fanny’s was romantic)

A week had passed in this way, and no suspicion of it conveyed by her quiet, passive manner, when she was found one morning by her cousin Edmund, the youngest of the sons, sitting crying on the attic stairs.

‘My dear little cousin,’ said he, with all the gentleness of an excellent nature, ‘what can be the matter?’ And sitting down by her, he was at great pains to overcome her shame in being so surprised, and persuade her to speak openly - Mansfield Park

Jon and Arya’s deep bond growing up in Winterfell defines their future relationships with other partners - romantic or otherwise. Arya and Gendry, Jon and Ygritte. Jon’s friendships with Sam and Satin. Arya being the single positive female influence during Jon’s childhood in Winterfell means that he is searching for an Arya in every girl he meets.

It's a reference to a certain physical type, and a certain indication of what Jon finds admirable. It's like someone who reminds you of, you know... Other people might be put off by this, you know, hair that looks like small rodents have been living in there. It doesn't put him off because he is used to that. - GRRM

There will be so much to look forward to, such a bubbling pot of emotions when they meet again, a resurrected, more wolfish Jon Snow and a grown up Arya Stark, changed by their life experiences. Will he still muss her hair and call her little sister? But she’s not so little anymore. He will have to call her something else. Was she ever his sister?

#Jon Snow #Arya Stark #needleheartwinter #Childhood #Outcasts and Belonging #Jonrya #Jonarya #Jon x Arya

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hamliet · 2 years ago

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Rereading A Storm of Swords

In light of my recent Fire & Blood reread, I decided to reread the whole ASOIAF series because, well, why not. Below are some general observations/musings on the themes, character arcs, alchemy, and foreshadowing. I’ll do this for the others as well. It’s not really a meta proper, so much as observations and thoughts.

Thoughts on A Game of Thrones here and A Clash of Kings here.

Themes

Duty vs Love

Again, Martin contrasts duty and love. Robb forgives Catelyn for freeing Jaime because "what you did, I know you did for love... Love's not always wise."

Meanwhile, Tywin treats his children as pawns, literally trying to marry them again and telling them they'll do what he tells them because of duty:

"Go," their father said. "We shall talk again after you have composed yourself. Remember your duty."

And Brienne defends Robert by telling Jaime that his rebellion is justified because of love:

"Why is it that no one names Robert oathbreaker? He tore the realm apart, yet I am the one with shit for honor." "Robert did all he did for love."

I don't really have a ton new to say that I didn't already say in my ACOK's post, but again, Martin doesn't seem to see duty/honor and love as actual opposites, but instead suggests there's a balance to be struck. The idea that duty at its most extreme transforms people into things, however, is something I'll talk about more later.

Individuality vs Ideas

Part of the reason ASOAIF is so complex is that it's deconstructing the idea that enemies and villains and "red shirts" are just empty ideas rather than living, breathing people. We have this idea throughout all books, but it's emphasized starting in ASOS:

"Enough." The Hound's face was tight with anger. "You're making noise. These names mean nothing. Who were they?" "People," said Lord Beric. "People great and small, young and old. Good people and bad people, who died on the points of Lannister spears or saw their bellies opened by Lannister swords.

Then we have Jon starting to empathize with the wildlings:

He did not want their friendship, any more than he wanted Ygritte's love. And yet . . . the Thenns spoke the Old Tongue and seldom talked to Jon at all, but it was different with Jarl's raiders, the men who'd climbed the Wall. Jon was coming to know them despite himself: gaunt, quiet Errok and gregarious Grigg the Goat, the boys Quort and Bodger, Hempen Dan the ropemaker. The worst of the lot was Del, a horsefaced youth near Jon's own age, who would talk dreamily of this wildling girl he meant to steal. "She's lucky, like your Ygritte. She's kissed by fire."

Martin also uses this "red shirts" idea to open and close the book in the prologue and epilogue. Chett and Merritt aren't particularly sympathetic characters on the outset, but from being in their mind, even if we see Chett as an incel-esque character and Merritt as a coward, we feel their fear and hopes and self-loathing too. It's impossible not to see them as human, and when they realize they're going to die... well. It leaves us with a strange feeling.

We Are All Just Songs

"We're all just songs in the end. If we are lucky." Oh look, we've got a title drop here! A title drop!

ASOIAF is playing with the ideas of stories. For example, characters like Sansa adore simplistic stories of courtly romances. Arya enjoys badass historical stories. Bran enjoys ghost stories. Daenerys enjoys stories about her family's history.

Well, any wonder each of their stories are deconstructing these ideas?

But Martin isn't saying stories are stupid or bad. If anything, he's saying we need stories. Stories are the ideals that help light our way through messy reality.

True Kings, True Knights

Throughout the first few books, we have Sansa telling us "he was no true knight" about the vile people serving Joffrey. The point isn't to mock Sansa, but instead to deconstruct her ideals. Through Sansa's pure-hearted belief and compassion, even for people like the Hound, they start to change and become more and more knightly.

Please note I'm not saying this is okay or whatever, just saying there is some romantic coding between them even when they're apart in the books. Should Sandor return and meet Sansa again, I would expect it to be a textbook chivalric romance:

a highly conventionalized medieval tradition of love between a knight and a married noblewoman, first developed by the troubadours of southern France and extensively employed in European literature of the time. The love of the knight for his lady was regarded as an ennobling passion and the relationship was typically unconsummated.

The "no true knight" mantra is also picked up this book by Brienne, who inspires similar change in Jaime. It's also repeated by Daenerys, with a twist:

"Some kings make themselves. Robert did." "He was no true king," Dany said scornfully. "He did no justice. Justice . . . that's what kings are for."

Again, I highly doubt we're going for a scorched earth burned ashes deconstruction here, but instead digging to the heart of what this means. What does it mean to be a just ruler for Daenerys? As much as she needs to mature and accept worser parts of herself, much like Sansa and Brienne, her general ideals are not themselves wrong, even if their application in the real world is messier than in songs.

Protecting the Innocent:

We have this theme throughout the story: those who protect the innocent are heroes. We even have this in the lore of the story itself, such as the Knight of the Laughing Tree (who is clearly Lyanna, and the incident clearly jumpstarted her relationship with Rhaegar).

Also, can't believe I have to say this, but in ASOIAF, hurting kids iz bad. It's particularly Bad. It's Bad Bad. (Nota Bene: I do not get how the House of the Dragon fans and even its actors do not get this very basic principle in ASOIAF). In earlier books, we had Ned full of regret for the deaths of Rhaegar's children and fear that Robert would hurt Cersei's. Now in ASOS, Martin hits us with this idea in almost every storyline.

Robb loses a lot of his army to punish someone who murdered two children in revenge for his own children. Oh look, it's almost like ASOIAF doesn't condone "an eye for an eye, a son for a son":

"They died," said Rickard Karstark, yielding no inch of ground. "The Kingslayer cut them down. These two were of his ilk. Only blood can pay for blood." "The blood of children?" Robb pointed at the corpses. "How old were they? Twelve, thirteen? Squires."

Then we have Daenerys and the Unsullied and the children crucified on the way to Meereen. The truly evil idea is seeing kids as a weakness, an idea that makes Dany "feel faint":

"To win his spiked cap, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find some wailing newborn, and kill it before its mother's eyes. In this way, we make certain that there is no weakness left in them."

Plus, it's stated directly:

Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children."

Then we have Melisandre arguing that hurting children even for the best of intentions is the right thing to do, but the framing of this--through Davos' eyes--tells us this is completely wrong. Even if you lose your army and your life like Robb. Even if you lose everything. It's. Not. Worth. It.

The Lord of Light cherishes the innocent. There is no sacrifice more precious. From his king's blood and his untainted fire, a dragon shall be born.

(Clearly, this also foreshadows the demise of Shireen.)

Again, Davos, one of the most moral characters in this story, tells us directly what we should think:

"...what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" "Everything," said Davos, softly.

This storyline also seems to be combined with Nissa Nissa, even though Nissa Nissa is an adult and not a child, because Azor Ahai has to sacrifice what he loves most. Stannis will sacrifice Shireen, his child, because she's what he loves most, but it won't work. I'd suggest that the idea is less "Stannis just wasn't chosen" and more "don't kill the innocent."

If there is a sacrifice to defeat the Others, I 100% do not see a Nissa Nissa situation happening, but instead a willing self-sacrifice.

Look Back! Look Back!

All of the characters have to look back if they are to go forward, as Daenerys is reminded by Quaithe. The problem is no one's doing that in their quest to look ahead.

Tyrion: "Some part of him had hoped for less indifference. Had hoped, he jeered bitterly, but now you know better, dwarf. Shae is all the love you're ever like to have". He has to face what happened with Tysha, to face the fact that he participated in that and became her monster, to ever be a better man.

Arya needs to face herself as a Stark and as someone who wants a family even more than she thinks she wants to be powerful: "Jaqen was gone, though. He'd left her. Hot Pie left me too, and now Gendry is leaving. Lommy had died, Yoren had died, Syrio Forel had died, even her father had died, and Jaqen had given her a stupid iron penny and vanished."

And Daenerys has to face her father's legacy, and likely will when she accidentally sets off Dear Old Dad's wildfyre in King's Landing: "If she was not her father's daughter, who was she?" This is the central question of Daenerys' arc. Her identity is in her status as the last living Targaryen. The question is whether she wants to continue the Targaryen legacy of madness and slavery, or destroy it (which she's doing).

Foreshadowing

Arya

When thinking of the original outline Martin somewhat scrapped and that Arya/Jon idea, I do wonder if this is a leftover idea meant to tell us something about Arya's future (namely, that Gendry is likely her love interest instead of Jon):

Arya gave Gendry a sideways look. He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell. She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers.

Tyrion

Well, Tywin says this at the start to Tyrion:

You are done with whores. The next one I find in your bed, I'll hang.

The irony is Tywin won't find a whore in Tyrion's bed. Instead, Tyrion will find that precise whore, Shae, in his father's bed. And he "hangs" her by strangling her with that necklace.

Jon

Jon "had slain the wildling Orell, but some part of the man remained within the eagle." This is pretty likely foreshadowing for Jon remaining in Ghost for a bit before he's resurrected.

Jon and Daenerys

The story has a middle section somewhat littered with romantic longings and first loves. Daenerys is torn about Jorah, whom she doesn't love like that, and has a crush on Daario. She also sleeps with Irri. Arya and Gendry begin to show attraction. Jaime and Brienne. Jon and Ygritte. But here are some lines between Jon and Ygritte that hint at his romantic future:

She punched him. "That's vile. Would you bed your sister?" "Longspear's not your brother." "He's of my village. You know nothing, Jon Snow..."

"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o' water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers." "What's wrong with flowers?"

Lol well at least she's his aunt?

Jon's already been strongly associated with blue roses, so this hints that Ygritte isn't a perfect match for him. She's kissed by fire, but not actually fire and air herself, like Dany is. Daenerys also liked the fact that the blue rose growing in a chink of ice at the wall "smell[ed] sweetly."

Lastly:

A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall.

Again, I feel like this might be foreshadowing for Dany and Jon having a child someday. The one thing that makes me skeptical and wondering if the child may be more metaphorical is the timeline--whether or not there's enough time for them to bear a child and save the world from the Others. That said, there's plenty of foreshadowing for it, so...

Sansa

The White Ghost clearly predicts Sansa's hairnet's role in Joffrey's assassination, as well as offers a prophecy of Sansa slaying a giant at, a giant who tries to destroy Winterfell. This may indicate Sansa literally kills a giant at some point, or it might be metaphorical. The one who needs to be slain by Sansa is Littlefinger, but he hasn't really been associated with giant imagery yet just kidding @isammy7936 pointed out the obvious: that the Baelish family crest is the Titan of Braavos.

There's a followup scene of Sansa tearing Robert Arryn's doll that destroyed Winterfell later in the book, in the presence of Littlefinger who was helping her build it. I don't doubt that Littlefinger will help Sansa claim the North at some point, but I also see him trying to destroy the Starks.

Jaime

Oh, Jaime.

I cannot die while Cersei lives, he told himself. We will die together as we were born together.

When I reach King's Landing I'll have a new hand forged, a golden hand, and one day I'll use it to rip out Vargo Hoat's throat.

Smells like foreshadowing to me, although I don't think it will be Vargo Hoat's throat he rips out, but Cersei's he strangles.

Alchemy

Daenerys and Red

Continuing with Dany's theme of becoming red, sulfur, fire and air, the first city she takes is Astapor, a red city:

In the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a red brick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze... Even through the thickness of her sandals, she could feel the warmth of the red bricks underfoot.

The other red association I've seen is her dream that she is Rhaegar fighting the Others at the Trident. Most seem to think the battle against the others will end at Winterfell, which I tend to agree with. However, the fact that the final climax should involve red at some point makes me wonder, because this takes place specifically at the Red Fork of the Trident.

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened.

Then again, fire is certain to be involved in defeating the Others, so it might well be red enough with that.

Bran and White

To continue the Starks are water and earth and white idea, Bran has this quote:

Moonlight painted the wet woods in shades of silver and turned the grey peaks white. Owls hooted through the dark and flew silently between the pines, while pale goats moved along the mountainsides.

Sansa and White

When I reread AGOT, I did take note that Sansa was given a red rose by Ser Loras, rather than the white he gave other girls. But in ASOS, Sansa talks to Loras about that very moment, and the point of this conversation is to reveal how little it meant to Loras. He gave her a red rose because he grabbed a red rose first, not because it meant anything. Seems like a meta commentary.

Arya and White/Water

When Arya dresses like a girl for the first time again, she wears something "lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls."

Furthermore, Arya routinely stops to give water to the dying, even the executed. Even when people, like the Hound, ask for wine (red), she gives them water.

Brienne and Jaime

For Jaime and Brienne, there's very little I can say about their alchemical weddings that the fabulous @argentvive hasn't covered. The first is the dual in the creek, which is with swords and violent, while the second is in the bath. The first one is also littered with romantic and sexual imagery, and is frankly what I'd call metaphorical sex:

No sooner did she turn one cut than the next was upon her. The swords kissed and sprang apart and kissed again. Jaime's blood was singing. This was what he was meant for; he never felt so alive as when he was fighting, with death balanced on every stroke... He laughed a ragged, breathless laugh. "Come on, come on, my sweetling, the music's still playing. Might I have this dance, my lady?" ... She looks as if they caught us fucking instead of fighting.

Brienne is also marked as water/earth, and white, while Jaime is red and fire. Jaime tells Brienne:

Think of Tarth, mountains and seas, pools, waterfalls, whatever you have on your Sapphire Isle, think . . .

Jaime slid into the offered seat quickly, so Bolton could not see how weak he was. "White is for Starks. I'll drink red like a good Lannister." " "I would prefer water," said Brienne. "Elmar, the red for Ser Jaime, water for the Lady Brienne..."

But after their second chemical wedding in the baths, they take on each other's qualities much more. Jaime dons his white cloak, lives in the white tower, and gives Brienne his Valyrian steel sword, which is colored with Lannister red (and is also a phallic symbol).

Arya and Gendry

Arya and Gendry's scenes become slightly romantically charged in this book. After she dresses like a girl, this conversation takes place.

Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her. "You look different now. Like a proper little girl." "I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns." "Nice, though. A nice oak tree." He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. "You even smell nice for a change."

They then fight in a scene that parallels the Brienne and Jaime wrestling scene above.

Reconciling Opposites:

Another idea in this book spoken of by multiple characters is that of reconciling opposites. That's what alchemy is fundamentally concerned with. Meera states that hate and love are essentially two sides of the same coin. Barristan says greatness and madness are the same. Melisande says:

"The night is dark and full of terrors, the day bright and beautiful and full of hope. One is black, the other white. There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Male and female. Pain and pleasure. Winter and summer. Evil and good." She took a step toward him. "Death and life. Everywhere, opposites. Everywhere, the war."

Again, George has pretty much confirmed Dany and Jon are the Song of Ice and Fire, so they need to unite.

Tyrion

One thing I wonder about is the use of homonculus (sometimes represented as a dwarf) and a rebis in alchemy, and whether or not Tyrion is intended to be a portrayal of either or both or neither. Homonculi are sometimes called "monsters", a name Tyrion bitterly embraces by the end of the book. Oberyn says that after Tyrion's birth, there were rumors he had the genitalia of male and female, but Tyrion didn't. At the same time, he does have odd features like two different colored eyes, etc that might hint at him being seen as an alchemical rebis. I don't know.

Other Thoughts

Tyrion as a Targaryen

Not only do I think it doesn't thematically work to have Tyrion as a Targaryen, but I think the line used at the end of this book as evidence ("You . . . you are no . . . no son of mine") strongly indicates the opposite--that Tyrion is indeed his father's son. You see, Tywin literally says the exact same sentiment only a few chapters earlier to Jaime:

The strained silence went on until it was more than Jaime could endure. "Father . . . " he began.

"You are not my son." Lord Tywin turned his face away. "You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and only that. Very well, ser. Go do your duty."

If people want to argue the Tyrion Targaryen angle, this is not really evidence itself.

Tyrion the Monster

Tyrion's the first of the Main Six to dive off the cliff, starting at the end of this book where he lies to Jaime to tell him he killed Joffrey, desperate to hurt Jaime the same way he's hurting. He's enraged he literally saved the city and no one cares; they all just want him dead for his disability, for things he cannot help. He can't even find love because of it, and he craves love. So he finally decides to be the monster they think he is.

Insofar as the other two likely heads of the dragon go... I think they'll take similar approaches to their dark spirals. We see hints of it this book. Daenerys won't look back until confronted with it, so she'll probably be like "let me prove myself with fire and blood" (actually, this is exactly what her ADWD arc leads to her deciding to do). Jon notes the fact that people assume bastards are craven and scheming, and I do not doubt that is exactly what Jon will become after he's resurrected: he's probably going to ditch the Wall, the fight, and everything for a time.

Jeyne Westerling

Poor Jeyne. Despite her mother's machinations to get Jeyne to seduce Robb, I do believe she and Robb genuinely loved each other--as much as anyone could. Their story seems to be a deconstruction of the "love at first sight" trope, wherein they love each other but don't entirely know each other, and have to get used to each other as people rather than as just objects of love. Hence, Jeyne turning to Catelyn for advice. Which frankly was a wise thing to do :'')

The True Fight

Davos reminds Stannis what the true fight is: up north, fighting the Others. I'm sorry but I can't see the books ending with the show's ending, where the true fight is against humans. No, this isn't thematically contradictory with the idea that the story is about humanity or the human heart against itself; the opposite in fact.

The true fight all humans face is against death, and what we do to live in the face of the reality that we're all going to die.

#daenerys targaryen #jonerys #jon snow #alchemy #a storm of swords #asos meta #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #davos seaworth #stannis baratheon #jeyne westerling #jaime lannister #braime #brienne of tarth #sansa stark #tyrion lannister #arya stark #gendry waters #sandor clegane

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aegor-bamfsteel · 2 years ago

Note

Some fans have called Jeyne Poole calling Arya horseface or mean to her slightly unbelievable. Considering Jeyne was a stewards daughter and Arya a high-born lady. I think it's Jeyne insecurity and jealousy for what Arya have made her do that. That doesn't mean Jeyne was right to bully Arya. Though I found it slightly weird that Arya never reacted to her or confront her. Regarding class difference it seems like Arya isn't bother about the class status between her and Jeyne.

And that’s another of my pet peeves about fantasies. The bad authors adopt the class structures of the Middle Ages; where you had the royalty and then you had the nobility and you had the merchant class and then you have the peasants and so forth. But they don’t’ seem to realize what it actually meant. They have scenes where the spunky peasant girl tells off the pretty prince. The pretty prince would have raped the spunky peasant girl. He would have put her in the stocks and then had garbage thrown at her. You know.

I mean, the class structures in places like this had teeth. They had consequences. And people were brought up from their childhood to know their place and to know that duties of their class and the privileges of their class. It was always a source of friction when someone got outside of that thing. And I tried to reflect that. —GRRM 2011 interview

Why GRRM goes instantly to rape as the response to a peasant woman’s insubordination is beyond me, but I’m going to digress. If the class structure is supposed to be so strict that even “sassy” words are deemed worthy of violent punishment, then how does GRRM explain this passage?:

When Dunk trotted up to them on Thunder, the boy looked surprised. "She said she wanted to give you a new horse, ser."

"Even highborn ladies don't get all they want," Dunk said, as they rode out across the drawbridge. "It wasn't a horse I wanted." The moat was so high it was threatening to overflow its banks. "I took something else to remember her by instead. A lock of that red hair." He reached under his cloak, brought out the braid, and smiled. —The Sworn Sword

Okay, so a peasant girl sassing a pretty prince gets thrown in the stocks, but a hedge knight who cut off a highborn woman’s hair without her consent (we don’t get her reaction in the novella, but her face in the graphic novel is terrified), gets to walk off scot-free with some presents? And he rejects a horse after losing 2/3 of those he inherited from Ser Arlan and the horse being necessary for a knight? And people wonder why I don’t find Dunk a credible member of the smallfolk. Anyway, compared to some instances in the story, Jeyne smirking and neighing when Arya comes near her isn’t that unrealistic and could be chalked up to schoolyard taunting.

While Jeyne is a steward’s daughter, she is also a minor noblewoman, probably on par with Beth Cassel. Maybe calling her horseface and neighing would’ve been insubordination in King’s Landing (although Sansa would’ve likely put in a good word for Jeyne if the teasing ever reached higher authorities) but this is Winterfell and the children can interact with minor nobles and even smallfolk (Mikken, Harwin, Gage, Hullen, Septon Chayle, of course Old Nan) with some easy familiarity. Arya is used to interacting with Winterfell’s smallfolk men and women to the point she gets another nickname: “Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that was where she always was.” —Arya II AGOT. Even though Jeyne doesn’t treat her well, it makes sense she’d see her as part of Winterfell life and not look down on her for being of lower class (however, her lack of knowledge/care about the class structure leads to the confrontation at Darry in which she and Sansa lose their wolves) It’s also part of Kid Code not to go to the adults for something like name calling, though for all we know she did hit her/taunt her back, and this led her to think it’d be OK to react as she did with Joffrey. I think Jeyne was also insecure about her class status, though she also called Arya these names because she was insecure about her looks, as she says “I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all told me I was pretty” and she also wanted male approval. Of course it wasn’t right for her to tease Arya. The true purpose of the teasing was for GRRM to make Arya feel like an outcast, thus connected to Jon; however, in AGOT Arya makes male friends/male mentors easily whereas she has colder relationships with women/girls, so it’s GRRM trying to have his cake (Arya as outcast by women) and eat it too (Arya as beloved kid sister/daughter by the good Winterfell men). Anyway, by the time of ADWD what Jeyne said pre-GOT is so insignificant (teasing vs becoming an abused child bride or trained assassin) in the grand scheme of things that I don’t think it’s going to be relevant going forward.

tl;dr Maybe Jeyne’s teasing is unrealistic, but compared to other scenes, it is more believable and has less of an impact. You could partially explain it by a friendship with Sansa, the looser class structure at Winterfell, Arya’s openness toward the Winterfell men and women, and kids being unwilling to take bullying to an adult. Jeyne possibly teased Arya due to her insecurities as a minor noble girl as well as her looks/crushes. GRRM used the teasing as a character point for Arya as an outcast that he undermines by having many positive male characters drawn to her. However, since the story and characters have grown so much since AGOT, I don’t think “Horseface” will be very significant.

#ask #opinion #asoiaf #grrm critical #arya stark #jeyne poole

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istumpysk · 2 years ago

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

Stumpy note:

Until tumblr support fixes my account, I won't be able to respond to any replies or tags you leave on this post. 😢 I'm sorry. Please know I love all your contributions!

ADWD: The Prince of Winterfell (Theon IV) [Chapter 37]

The bride was shivering too. They had dressed her in white lambswool trimmed with lace. Her sleeves and bodice were sewn with freshwater pearls, and on her feet were white doeskin slippers—pretty, but not warm. Her face was pale, bloodless.

A face carved of ice, Theon Greyjoy thought as he draped a fur-trimmed cloak about her shoulders. A corpse buried in the snow. "My lady. It is time." Beyond the door, the music called them, lute and pipes and drum.

Unwilling brides and pearls in back-to-back chapters.

A corpse buried in the snow.

Like Bran's cave! Probably not intentional.

+.+.+

Talk like that will get you killed, or worse. That lesson he had learned as Reek. "You are the real Arya, my lady. Arya of House Stark, Lord Eddard's daughter, heir to Winterfell." Her name, she had to know her name. "Arya Underfoot. Your sister used to call you Arya Horseface."

"It was me made up that name. Her face was long and horsey. Mine isn't. I was pretty." Tears spilled from her eyes at last. "I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all said I was pretty. Does Lord Ramsay think I am pretty?"

You have to be a depraved fucking animal to harbor any hatred towards this girl for this.

+.+.+

"Help me." She clutched at him. "Please. I used to watch you in the yard, playing with your swords. You were so handsome." She squeezed his arm. "If we ran away, I could be your wife, or your … your whore … whatever you wanted. You could be my man."

Similar to Theon, I would also like to be put out of my misery.

+.+.+

Theon wrenched his arm away from her. "I'm no … I'm no one's man." A man would help her.

. . .

+.+.+

Jeyne, her name is Jeyne, it rhymes with pain.

Theon, can you please shut up.

+.+.+

The music was growing more insistent. "It is time. Wipe those tears from your eyes." Brown eyes. They should be grey. Someone will see. Someone will remember. "Good. Now smile."

Someone will remember, the north remembers, Yohn Royce remembers. . . lots of remembering going on.

+.+.+

"She has a brother still." She has three brothers still, he might have said. "Jon Snow is with the Night's Watch."

"A half-brother, bastard-born, and bound to the Wall. You were her father's ward, the nearest thing she has to living kin. It is only fitting that you give her hand in marriage."

The nearest thing she has to living kin. Theon Greyjoy had grown up with Arya Stark. Theon would have known an imposter. If he was seen to accept Bolton's feigned girl as Arya, the northern lords who had gathered to bear witness to the match would have no grounds to question her legitimacy. Stout and Slate, Whoresbane Umber, the quarrelsome Ryswells, Hornwood men and Cerywn cousins, fat Lord Wyman Manderly … not one of them had known Ned Stark's daughters half so well as he. And if a few entertained private doubts, surely they would be wise enough to keep those misgivings to themselves.

They are using me to cloak their deception, putting mine own face on their lie. That was why Roose Bolton had clothed him as a lord again, to play his part in this mummer's farce. Once that was done, once their false Arya had been wedded and bedded, Bolton would have no more use for Theon Turncloak. "Serve us in this, and when Stannis is defeated we will discuss how best to restore you to your father's seat," his lordship had said in that soft voice of his, a voice made for lies and whispers. Theon never believed a word of it. He would dance this dance for them because he had no choice, but afterward … He will give me back to Ramsay then, he thought, and Ramsay will take a few more fingers and turn me into Reek once more.

If this was my first time reading the story, I would think Theon eventually exposes the lie.

He doesn't though, and now that she's on her way to the Wall it's kind of unnecessary. There's still the Bran and Rickon lie?

Ramsay will take a few more fingers and turn me into Reek once more.

I guess he's Theon today.

+.+.+

Unless the gods were good, and Stannis Baratheon descended on Winterfell and put all of them to the sword, himself included. That was the best he could hope for.

Theon has had multiple opportunities to kill himself.

+.+.+

Icicles long as lances hung from the battlements and fringed the towers like an old man's stiff white whiskers. But inside the godswood, the ground remained unfrozen, and steam rose off the hot pools, as warm as baby's breath.

Theon Greyjoy was no stranger to this godswood. He had played here as a boy, skipping stones across the cold black pool beneath the weirwood, hiding his treasures in the bole of an ancient oak, stalking squirrels with a bow he made himself.

Are the hot pools and cold black pool symbolic of something?

+.+.+

Theon wore black and gold, his cloak pinned to his shoulder by a crude iron kraken that a smith in Barrowton had hammered together for him. But under the hood, his hair was white and thin, and his flesh had an old man's greyish undertone. A Stark at last, he thought.

He's so depressing.

+.+.+

The first time he had ever kissed a girl had been here. Later, a different girl had made a man of him upon a ragged quilt in the shade of that tall grey-green sentinel.

It's funny to picture baby Bran witnessing all these things.

+.+.+

He had never seen the godswood like this, though—grey and ghostly, filled with warm mists and floating lights and whispered voices that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Beneath the trees, the hot springs steamed. Warm vapors rose from the earth, shrouding the trees in their moist breath, creeping up the walls to draw grey curtains across the watching windows.

Speaking of Bran,

BRAN?!

+.+.+

The mists were so thick that only the nearest trees were visible; beyond them stood tall shadows and faint lights. Candles flickered beside the wandering path and back amongst the trees, pale fireflies floating in a warm grey soup. It felt like some strange underworld, some timeless place between the worlds, where the damned wandered mournfully for a time before finding their way down to whatever hell their sins had earned them. Are we all dead, then? Did Stannis come and kill us in our sleep? Is the battle yet to come, or has it been fought and lost?

Here and there a torch burned hungrily, casting its ruddy glow over the faces of the wedding guests. The way the mists threw back the shifting light made their features seem bestial, half-human, twisted. Lord Stout became a mastiff, old Lord Locke a vulture, Whoresbane Umber a gargoyle, Big Walder Frey a fox, Little Walder a red bull, lacking only a ring for his nose. Roose Bolton's own face was a pale grey mask, with two chips of dirty ice where his eyes should be.

what

+.+.+

Above their heads the trees were full of ravens, their feathers fluffed as they hunched on bare brown branches, staring down at the pageantry below. Maester Luwin's birds. Luwin was dead, and his maester's tower had been put to the torch, yet the ravens lingered. This is their home. Theon wondered what that would be like, to have a home.

Then the mists parted, like the curtain opening at a mummer show to reveal some new tableau. The heart tree appeared in front of them, its bony limbs spread wide. Fallen leaves lay about the wide white trunk in drifts of red and brown. The ravens were the thickest here, muttering to one another in the murderers' secret tongue.

Ha! There it is. I went back to ACOK when I should have looked forward.

I bet that he could learn to fly too, him and Arya and Sansa, even baby Rickon and Jon Snow. We could all be ravens and live in Maester Luwin's rookery. - Bran III, ADWD

Please let every raven in the story be Bran and not Bloodraven. I will clown the fandom for life.

This is a Stark story. Get your musty Targ Big Brother theories out of here.

+.+.+

She raised her eyes to his. Brown eyes, not grey. Are all of them so blind? For a long moment she did not speak, but those eyes were begging. This is your chance, he thought. Tell them. Tell them now. Shout out your name before them all, tell them that you are not Arya Stark, let all the north hear how you were made to play this part. It would mean her death, of course, and his own as well, but Ramsay in his wroth might kill them quickly. The old gods of the north might grant them that small boon.

Theon has had multiple opportunities to kill himself.

+.+.+

Theon stepped back, and Ramsay and his bride joined hands and knelt before the heart tree, bowing their heads in token of submission. The weirwood's carved red eyes stared down at them, its great red mouth open as if to laugh. In the branches overhead a raven quorked.

Not sure what to make of that. Doesn't feel like a laughing matter, Bran.

Unreliable narrator?

+.+.+

Quick as that, it was done. Weddings went more quickly in the north. It came of not having priests, Theon supposed, but whatever the reason it seemed to him a mercy.

The author would like you to know a priest doesn't oversee a wedding in the north.

+.+.+

The musicians began to play again, and the bard Abel began to sing "Two Hearts That Beat as One." Two of his women joined their voices to his own to make a sweet harmony.

Mance nodded. "Good. You'll go with Jarl and Styr on the morrow, then. Both of you. Far be it from me to separate two hearts that beat as one." - Jon II, ASOS

+.+.+

Theon found himself wondering if he should say a prayer. Will the old gods hear me if I do? They were not his gods, had never been his gods. He was ironborn, a son of Pyke, his god was the Drowned God of the islands … but Winterfell was long leagues from the sea.

Let's see about that.

"Aeron is drunk on seawater and sanctity. He lives only for his god—"

"His god? Not yours?" - Theon II, ACOK

+.+.+

It had been a lifetime since any god had heard him. He did not know who he was, or what he was, why he was still alive, why he had ever been born.

"Theon," a voice seemed to whisper.

Theon's in the middle of questioning the purpose of his life when Bran shows up. Not exactly subtle.

+.+.+

His head snapped up. "Who said that?" All he could see were the trees and the fog that covered them. The voice had been as faint as rustling leaves, as cold as hate. A god's voice, or a ghost's. How many died the day that he took Winterfell? How many more the day he lost it? The day that Theon Greyjoy died, to be reborn as Reek. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with shriek.

Suddenly he did not want to be here.

Once outside the godswood the cold descended on him like a ravening wolf and caught him in its teeth. He lowered his head into the wind and made for the Great Hall, hastening after the long line of candles and torches. Ice crunched beneath his boots, and a sudden gust pushed back his hood, as if a ghost had plucked at him with frozen fingers, hungry to gaze upon his face.

The vibes are all off. What's going on Bran? Unreliable narrator?

+.+.+

All the color had been leached from Winterfell until only grey and white remained. The Stark colors. Theon did not know whether he ought to find that ominous or reassuring.

Reassuring.

+.+.+

Even the sky was grey. Grey and grey and greyer. The whole world grey, everywhere you look, everything grey except the eyes of the bride.

This is how George R. R. Martin sees the world.

+.+.+

The eyes of the bride were brown. Big and brown and full of fear. It was not right that she should look to him for rescue. What had she been thinking, that he would whistle up a winged horse and fly her out of here, like some hero in the stories she and Sansa used to love? He could not even help himself.

God bless Sansa and Jeyne for their love of heroes on winged horses who rescue maidens in towers.

+.+.+

Stout new gates had gone up first, to replace those that had been burned. Then the collapsed roof of the Great Hall had been cleared away and a new one raised hurriedly in its stead. When the work was done, Lord Bolton hanged the workers. True to his word, he showed them mercy and did not flay a one.

God damnit, Roose is cursing Winterfell. We need Sansa to burn some sage to cleanse this space.

His son Maegor the Cruel had seen it completed. Afterward he had taken the heads of every stonemason, woodworker, and builder who had labored on it. Only the blood of the dragon would ever know the secrets of the fortress the Dragonlords had built, he vowed. - Catelyn IV, AGOT

+.+.+

Theon arrived in Barbrey Dustin's train, with her ladyship herself, her Barrowton levies, and the bride-to-be. Lady Dustin had insisted that she should have custody of Lady Arya until such time as she was wed, but now that time was done.

Lady Dustin is nursing some doubts.

No, he thought. She is not of Lord Eddard's blood, her name is Jeyne, she is only a steward's daughter. He did not doubt that Lady Dustin suspected, but even so … - The Turncloak, ADWD

+.+.+

This was never my home. I was a hostage here. Lord Stark had not treated him cruelly, but the long steel shadow of his greatsword had always been between them. He was kind to me, but never warm. He knew that one day he might need to put me to death.

Theon kept his eyes downcast as he crossed the yard, weaving between the tents. I learned to fight in this yard, he thought, remembering warm summer days spent sparring with Robb and Jon Snow under the watchful eyes of old Ser Rodrik. That was back when he was whole, when he could grasp a sword hilt as well as any man. But the yard held darker memories as well. This was where he had assembled Stark's people the night Bran and Rickon fled the castle. Ramsay was Reek then, standing at his side, whispering that he should flay a few of his captives to make them tell him where the boys had gone. There will be no flaying here whilst I am Prince of Winterfell, Theon had responded, little dreaming how short his rule would prove. None of them would help me. I had known them all for half my life, and not one of them would help me. Even so, he had done his best to protect them, but once Ramsay put Reek's face aside he'd slain all the men, and Theon's ironborn as well. He set my horse afire. That was the last sight he had seen the day the castle fell: Smiler burning, the flames leaping from his mane as he reared up, kicking, screaming, his eyes white with terror. Here in this very yard.

If you start feeling a little bit of sympathy for Theon Greyjoy he'll quickly remind you why he's insufferable.

+.+.+

Up near the dais, Abel was plucking at his lute and singing "Fair Maids of Summer." He calls himself a bard. In truth he's more a pander. Lord Manderly had brought musicians from White Harbor, but none were singers, so when Abel turned up at the gates with a lute and six women, he had been made welcome. "Two sisters, two daughters, one wife, and my old mother," the singer claimed, though not one looked like him. "Some dance, some sing, one plays the pipe and one the drums. Good washerwomen too."

There's Abel aka Bael the Bard aka Mance Rayder on his little suicide mission that makes no sense.

Did you know pander means pimp?

+.+.+

Where they came from Theon could not say. They just seemed to appear, like maggots on a corpse or ravens after a battle. Every army drew them. Some were hardened whores who could fuck twenty men in a night and drink them all blind. Others looked as innocent as maids, but that was just a trick of their trade. Some were camp brides, bound to the soldiers they followed with words whispered to one god or another but doomed to be forgotten once the war was done.

Hints of Sansa and Tyrion?

+.+.+

His voice was so soft that the hall grew hushed as men strained to hear. "I am sorry that our good friend Stannis has not seen fit to join us yet," he went on, to a ripple of laughter, "as I know Ramsay had hoped to present his head to Lady Arya as a wedding gift." The laughs grew louder. "We shall give him a splendid welcome when he arrives, a welcome worthy of true northmen. Until that day, let us eat and drink and make merry … for winter is almost upon us, my friends, and many of us here shall not live to see the spring."

Lol, he won't say winter is coming. Coward.

+.+.+

The wedding guests gorged on cod cakes and winter squash, hills of neeps and great round wheels of cheese, on smoking slabs of mutton and beef ribs charred almost black, and lastly on three great wedding pies, as wide across as wagon wheels, their flaky crusts stuffed to bursting with carrots, onions, turnips, parsnips, mushrooms, and chunks of seasoned pork swimming in a savory brown gravy. Ramsay hacked off slices with his falchion and Wyman Manderly himself served, presenting the first steaming portions to Roose Bolton and his fat Frey wife, the next to Ser Hosteen and Ser Aenys, the sons of Walder Frey. "The best pie you have ever tasted, my lords," the fat lord declared. "Wash it down with Arbor gold and savor every bite. I know I shall."

True to his word, Manderly devoured six portions, two from each of the three pies, smacking his lips and slapping his belly and stuffing himself until the front of his tunic was half-brown with gravy stains and his beard was flecked with crumbs of crust. Even Fat Walda Frey could not match his gluttony, though she did manage three slices herself. Ramsay ate heartily as well, though his pale bride did no more than stare at the portion set before her.

Jeyne didn't eat it!

Looks like everyone who ate it will die in the story. Poor Walda.

+.+.+

No longswords had been allowed within the hall, but every man there wore a dagger, even Theon Greyjoy. How else to cut his meat? Every time he looked at the girl who had been Jeyne Poole, he felt the presence of that steel at his side. I have no way to save her, he thought, but I could kill her easy enough. No one would expect it. I could beg her for the honor of a dance and cut her throat. That would be a kindness, wouldn't it? And if the old gods hear my prayer, Ramsay in his wroth might strike me dead as well. Theon was not afraid to die. Underneath the Dreadfort, he had learned there were far worse things than death.

Theon has had multiple opportunities to kill himself.

Anyway,

They were not his gods, had never been his gods.

↓

And if the old gods hear my prayer

yeah.

+.+.+

"No taste for pork pie, my lord? The best pork pie we ever tasted, our fat friend would have us believe." She [Barbrey Dustin] gestured toward Lord Manderly with her wine cup. "Have you ever seen a fat man so happy? He is almost dancing. Serving with his own hands."

Barbrey Dustin ate it!

+.+.+

It was true. The Lord of White Harbor was the very picture of the jolly fat man, laughing and smiling, japing with the other lords and slapping them on the back, calling out to the musicians for this tune or that tune. "Give us 'The Night That Ended,' singer," he bellowed. "The bride will like that one, I know. Or sing to us of brave young Danny Flint and make us weep." To look at him, you would have thought that he was the one newly wed.

I don't believe Jeyne will die at the Wall, but I did feel instant dread the second I saw noted pretender Danny Flint's name.

Happy thoughts.

+.+.+

"He's drunk," said Theon.

"Drowning his fears. He is craven to the bone, that one."

Was he? Theon was not certain. His sons had been fat as well, but they had not shamed themselves in battle. "Ironborn will feast before a battle too. A last taste of life, should death await. If Stannis comes …"

"He will. He must." Lady Dustin chuckled. "And when he does, the fat man will piss himself. His son died at the Red Wedding, yet he's shared his bread and salt with Freys, welcomed them beneath his roof, promised one his granddaughter. He even serves them pie. The Manderlys ran from the south once, hounded from their lands and keeps by enemies. Blood runs true. The fat man would like to kill us all, I do not doubt, but he does not have the belly for it, for all his girth. Under that sweaty flesh beats a heart as craven and cringing as … well … yours."

There are two possibilities.

Barbrey Dustin is not a great judge of character. Even looney tune Theon realizes Manderly is not what he appears to be.

You can't trust anything Barbrey Dustin is saying, because she knows Theon is Ramsay and Roose's pet.

+.+.+

"You think Roose does not know? Silly boy. Watch him. Watch how he watches Manderly. No dish so much as touches Roose's lips until he sees Lord Wyman eat of it first. No cup of wine is sipped until he sees Manderly drink of the same cask. I think he would be pleased if the fat man attempted some betrayal. It would amuse him. Roose has no feelings, you see. Those leeches that he loves so well sucked all the passions out of him years ago. He does not love, he does not hate, he does not grieve. This is a game to him, mildly diverting. Some men hunt, some hawk, some tumble dice. Roose plays with men. You and me, these Freys, Lord Manderly, his plump new wife, even his bastard, we are but his playthings." A serving man was passing by. Lady Dustin held out her wine cup and let him fill it, then gestured for him to do the same for Theon. "Truth be told," she said, "Lord Bolton aspires to more than mere lordship. Why not King of the North? Tywin Lannister is dead, the Kingslayer is maimed, the Imp is fled. The Lannisters are a spent force, and you were kind enough to rid him of the Starks. Old Walder Frey will not object to his fat little Walda becoming a queen. White Harbor might prove troublesome should Lord Wyman survive this coming battle … but I am quite sure that he will not. No more than Stannis. Roose will remove both of them, as he removed the Young Wolf. Who else is there?"

"You," said Theon. "There is you. The Lady of Barrowton, a Dustin by marriage, a Ryswell by birth."

That pleased her. She took a sip of wine, her dark eyes sparkling, and said, "The widow of Barrowton … and yes, if I so choose, I could be an inconvenience. Of course, Roose sees that too, so he takes care to keep me sweet."

Tywin's mistake is believing Ramsay is his plaything.

Two takeaways,

Barbrey Dustin has the power to ruin Roose Bolton. We knew that.

It's a black mark against her the second it's revealed she has ambitions for power.

White Harbor might prove troublesome should Lord Wyman survive this coming battle … but I am quite sure that he will not.

Dot, dot, dot.

I am quite sure he will!

He'll definitely die. Later.

+.+.+

As Maester Medrick went to one knee to whisper in Bolton's ear, Lady Dustin's mouth twisted in distaste. "If I were queen, the first thing I would do would be to kill all those grey rats. They scurry everywhere, living on the leavings of the lords, chittering to one another, whispering in the ears of their masters. But who are the masters and who are the servants, truly? Every great lord has his maester, every lesser lord aspires to one. If you do not have a maester, it is taken to mean that you are of little consequence. The grey rats read and write our letters, even for such lords as cannot read themselves, and who can say for a certainty that they are not twisting the words for their own ends? What good are they, I ask you?"

"They heal," said Theon. It seemed to be expected of him.

"They heal, yes. I never said they were not subtle. They tend to us when we are sick and injured, or distraught over the illness of a parent or a child. Whenever we are weakest and most vulnerable, there they are. Sometimes they heal us, and we are duly grateful. When they fail, they console us in our grief, and we are grateful for that as well. Out of gratitude we give them a place beneath our roof and make them privy to all our shames and secrets, a part of every council. And before too long, the ruler has become the ruled.

Replace the word maester with Dr. Fauci and this becomes a standard Facebook post from your unhinged aunt.

This is what anti-intellectualism looks like in the world of ASoIaF, and I know George doesn't fuck with it.

+.+.+

"That was how it was with Lord Rickard Stark. Maester Walys was his grey rat's name. And isn't it clever how the maesters go by only one name, even those who had two when they first arrived at the Citadel? That way we cannot know who they truly are or where they come from … but if you are dogged enough, you can still find out. Before he forged his chain, Maester Walys had been known as Walys Flowers. Flowers, Hill, Rivers, Snow … we give such names to baseborn children to mark them for what they are, but they are always quick to shed them.

We interrupt these nutty ramblings to remind you she hates Ramsay Snow. That's what makes Barbrey Dustin such a wild card!

The problem is Jon is also a Snow.

+.+.+

Walys Flowers had a Hightower girl for a mother … and an archmaester of the Citadel for a father, it was rumored. The grey rats are not as chaste as they would have us believe. Oldtown maesters are the worst of all. Once he forged his chain, his secret father and his friends wasted no time dispatching him to Winterfell to fill Lord Rickard's ears with poisoned words as sweet as honey. The Tully marriage was his notion, never doubt it, he—"

It's been almost twenty years.

She sounds half-mad. I can't put my faith in this woman. I don't even want her on Team Stark.

Is Walys Flowers important? Why am I being told all this?

Edit: Apparently there's a theory he's Archmaester Walgrave's son. I couldn't tell you why that's important.

+.+.+

As the Lord of the Dreadfort slipped out, attended by the three maesters, other lords and captains rose to follow. Hother Umber, the gaunt old man called Whoresbane, went grim-faced and scowling. Lord Manderly was so drunk he required four strong men to help him from the hall. "We should have a song about the Rat Cook," he was muttering, as he staggered past Theon, leaning on his knights. "Singer, give us a song about the Rat Cook."

+.+.+

"There's my sweet maid. Good lads. You may leave us now. Not you, Reek. You stay."

Reek, Reek, it rhymes with peek. He could feel his missing fingers cramping: two on his left hand, one on his right. And on his hip his dagger rested, sleeping in its leather sheath, but heavy, oh so heavy. It is only my pinky gone on my right hand, Theon reminded himself. I can still grip a knife.

See? Arya's fine.

+.+.+

"No." Lord Ramsay poured himself a cup of wine. "Laces take too long. Cut it off her."

Theon drew the dagger. All I need do is turn and stab him. The knife is in my hand. He knew the game by then. Another trap, he told himself, remembering Kyra with her keys. He wants me to try to kill him. And when I fail, he'll flay the skin from the hand I used to hold the blade.

If you're not going to use it, could you give it to me?

I'm not going to cover the next part in great detail.

+.+.+

Ramsay smiled his wet smile. "Does she make your cock hard, Reek? Is it straining against your laces? Would you like to fuck her first?" He laughed. "The Prince of Winterfell should have that right, as all lords did in days of old. The first night. But you're no lord, are you? Only Reek. Not even a man, truth be told."

[...]

Ramsay rose, the firelight shining on his face. "Reek, get over here. Get her ready for me."

For a moment he did not understand. "I … do you mean … m'lord, I have no … I …"

. . .

+.+.+

Somewhere in the godswood, a raven screamed. The dagger was still in his hand.

He sheathed it.

Reek, my name is Reek, it rhymes with weak.

Reek bent to his task.

I don't have much to say. I'd like to move on.

Final thoughts:

Catelyn Stark

Her face, Brienne thought. Her face was so strong and handsome, her skin so smooth and soft. - Brienne VIII, AFFC

Barbrey Dustin

Though there were wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and more around her eyes, she still stood tall, unbent, and handsome. Her hair was brown and grey in equal parts and she wore it tied behind her head in a widow's knot. - Reek III, ADWD

See what being a hater does to your face?

That's why I use retinol.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #the prince of winterfell #theon iv

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asongofstarkandtargaryen · 3 years ago

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Arya and nature motifs

I. Arya Underfoot

Arya has many nicknames through the series. Some are mocking ones given to her by her people who wish to upset her while others are endearing ones given to her by people who like her. The nickname “Arya Underfoot” is given to her by her father’s men who knew that the young lady enjoyed spending her time with smallfolk outside the castle. While getting dirty by spending time outside isn’t “ladylike” according to westerosi sexist standards, the people who gave her that nickname like her for her warm, friendly and down to earth personality.

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that was where she always was. She'd liked that a lot better than "Arya Horseface."

Lommy had called her Lumpyhead, Sansa used Horseface, and her father's men once dubbed her Arya Underfoot, but she did not think any of those were the sort of name he wanted.

"I remember," said Arya. "He killed Jory." Jory had always smiled at her, when he wasn't telling her to get from underfoot.

II. Arya and her love for flowers

We see Arya’s love for flowers through her interactions with her sister, Sansa. First we have Arya enthousiastically telling Sansa about all the new flowers she found on the Neck:

Then to Sansa she said, "When we were crossing the Neck, I counted thirty-six flowers I never saw before[...]”

Then we also have an endearing scene of Arya picking flowers for her father, Ned. It’s a sweet gesture and Ned being a good father appreciates his daughter’s efforts:

One day she came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. Sansa kept hoping he would tell Arya to behave herself and act like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, but he never did, he only hugged her and thanked her for the flowers.

But Arya’s connection to nature is even more evident on the the paragraph below. Even when she gets a rash on her arms because of her flowers she was picking earlier, Arya’s reaction isn’t to be upset about it and instead she finds it funny.

Then it turned out the purple flowers were called poison kisses, and Arya got a rash on her arms. Sansa would have thought that might have taught her a lesson, but Arya laughed about it, and the next day she rubbed mud all over her arms like some ignorant bog woman just because her friend Mycah told her it would stop the itching.

III. The acorn dress

Arya might not have wore as many gowns as other female characters but her acorn dress is one of the most memorable asoiaf dresses. Arya’s given that dress by Lady Smallwood. Arya finds the dress rather silly but she remembers fondly how Lady Smallwood had praised her appearence.

Arya promptly found herself marched upstairs, forced into a tub, and doused with scalding hot water. Lady Smallwood's maidservants scrubbed her so hard it felt like they were flaying her themselves. They even dumped in some stinky-sweet stuff that smelled like flowers.

And afterward, they insisted she dress herself in girl's things, brown woolen stockings and a light linen shift, and over that a light green gown with acorns embroidered all over the bodice in brown thread, and more acorns bordering the hem.

.Arya spotted a yellow tent with six acrons on its panels, three over two over one. Lord Smallwood, she knew, remembering Acorn Hall so far away, and the lady who'd said she was pretty.

ΙV. My Featherbed

Anyone who says that Arya can´t have a romantic plot line, canon contradicts you. The most romantic song of the series appears on Arya´s POV, while she fools around with Gendry. The parallels between the heroes of the song and the little lady and the young blacksmith are evident.

My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I'll lay you down, I'll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown. For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord. I'll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword.

And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree. She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me. I'll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass, But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass.

#arya stark #canonarya #asoiaf #aryastarkmonth2022 #asoiaf meta #arya meta

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buttercuparry · 2 years ago

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im sorry but whose fault is that arya is seeing by the fandom as a kid? i've read fics about arya written by arya stans and its always the same: arya being ugly (being seen as ugly even by her own love interest, her own love interest admits sansa is more beautiful than her, etc) which its a lie because arya is beautiful in the books, she was just a child at the start of the series. i have read arya being an infuriating smart ass, arya being a wild thing who insults everyone and hates other women and hates to wear dresses and is always dirty or mean. i stopped reading fics about her to read fics about sansa even if i dont give a shit about her bc sometimes her fics are more mature, idc if she never meets jon in the books, the writers do a really good job portraying jon being in love with her and thats all i care and want to read in a fic where they are the main pairing. that doesnt happen in jonrya fics and its sad bc they have so much evidence in the books.

I don't know why you came into my inbox.

I mean if you like reading jonsa fics and find jonrya fics to be lacking, then that depends on your personal tastes.

Like what was your thought process here? Did you want me to argue with you on how jonrya fics are the best form of art (TM) and scream how wrong it is of you to find it lacking? lmao.

I personally find jonrya fics to be scrumptious. Even if in those fics the author chooses to say that yes, Arya is not the fairest of them all: even then. And do you know why is that? Because that is true. Arya is not the fairest maid in Westeros. Neither was Lyanna. But our frustration comes when your people has repeatedly tried to impress on a stupid theory that Arya is too ugly to be loved, too wild to be loved and therefore it is impossible for her and Lyanna to look alike. Lyanna was a wild beauty but Cersei is said to be much more beautiful than her. Dany with her Targaryen features is canonically one of the best looking woman in perhaps the whole Planetos. But both of these facts do not take away from either Arya or Lyanna. Do not pretend that you who has read their fics, perhaps even went about in their circles, don't know that they have the tendency to push the, "why would Jon look at Arya if Sansa is there". As if Jonrya hinges on Jon losing his heart over Arya's beauty.

And yes, you asked whose fault it is that Arya is seen as a kid? Well tell me then why whenever we discuss Arya's potential love interests, edit any love scene for jonrya or gendrya, write metas or smutty fics of an aged up Arya or generally fool around with any ship regarding Arya, why do we have people coming into our inboxes, calling us pedophiles for sexualizing an 11 year old. Why was there a shock over show!Arya initiating intimacy with Gendry because apparently to them Arya was a kid?

And yes you are right even within our circle, we have had certain Arya Stans who had on them a stronger impression of the fanon/show version of Arya than of the actual canon version of Arya, but lmao none of them villainize Arya the way jonsas do. None of them villainize Arya for being the wild thing she is, for wanting to live as she wants, for not falling in line with Sansa's ideals. And I think you too have missed the point of my earlier post.

Arya is not just pretty girl. I wasn't screaming about people's inability to see Arya as such (as much as it frustrates me that they cling to the label of horseface that her bullies gave to her). My post was about people thinking Arya needs to be a prettiest girl in the whole of Westeros to have romance storyline, because they can't see a rebellious woman, a woman who has refused to bind herself in the narrow constructs of society ever wanting a family of her own. Ever wanting a lover whom she desires.

Also yeah there is this constant tussle, almost an obsession among your preferred faction to put Sansa at the highest pedestal when it comes to beauty and us even mentioning that: hey Arya is pretty as well sets them off in hilarious ways..

#I don't even know what the point of this ask was but oh well...#arya stark #I can't even say that it's all because of her getting in the way of their ship because they do this with gendrya too

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whitedragonwolf4961 · 3 years ago

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Day 28: Parallels with Daenerys

If there is any character that Arya shares the most parallels with besides Jon, it is without question Daenerys Targaryen! Daenerys and Arya are in my opinion the best female characters of the series. They have so many similarities and so much in common that they would become really close friends when they meet. Let’s examine some of the many, many similarities and parallels that these two amazing ladies share!

Beauty

Dany and Arya are both very young girls but they are noted by many to be extremely beautiful/pretty. “That was before Prince Doran had summoned him to the Water Gardens. And now the most beautiful woman in the world was waiting in Meereen, and he meant to do his duty and claim her for his bride. She will not refuse me. She will honor the agreement. Daenerys Targaryen would need Dorne to win the Seven Kingdoms, and that meant that she would need him. It does not mean that she will love me, though. She may not even like me.” ADWD Quentyn I Dany is explicitly called the most beautiful woman in the world in this chapter and Quentyn has not even met her yet. That means people have talked and called her the most beautiful woman in the world.

"I'm sorry, my lady." Arya suddenly felt bad for her, and ashamed. "I'm sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty."

"Yes, child. And so are you. Be brave." ASOS Arya IV

Lady Smallwood, a kind and caring woman, tells Arya that she is pretty. It’s pretty special considering Sansa always called Arya ugly and Catelyn said Arya could only be pretty if she acted more like Sansa. Arya is noted though to be pretty by others. She has the same wild beauty that her Aunt Lyanna had. When Arya gets older, her wild beauty will probably make even Sansa jealous.

Intelligence and Bravery:

Dany and Arya, despite their young ages, are both two of the most intelligent and bravest characters in the series. Arya shows this at Harrenhal. First she organizes a coup for the Northern prisoners to escape by tricking Jaqen H’gar into helping her (tricking a Faceless Man requires both cunning and bravery). And afterwards, she escapes Harrenhal with her friends with their own planning. Arya manages to take out the guard by tricking him into thinking that Lord Bolton is having her give silver to the guards, and then when his guard is down she slashes his throat. That required Arya to be both brave and smart.

Dany shows her intelligence and bravery when taking the cities of Slaver’s Bay. She manages to trick the Good Masters of Astapor into giving her the Unsullied by offering to give them one of her dragons. It works… but she never intended to let cruel men keep one of her children for a slave. She has the Unsullied kill the slave masters and free all the slaves and has Drogon roast the asshole Kraznys. At Yunkai she comes up with the strategy to take the city and she succeeds. The same thing happens at Mereen. Dany took great risks (and taking the cities wouldn’t get her closer to Westeros) but through her bravery and her intelligence, she prevailed.

Kindness and Empathy:

Dany and Arya are also both two of the kindest and most compassionate characters in the series. Despite both being highborn girls, Dany and Arya do not see the smallfolk as lesser beings or tools. They see them as friends and family. “Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that was where she always was. She'd liked that a lot better than "Arya Horseface."” AGOT Arya II Arya earned her nickname ”Arya Underfoot” because she loved playing with the smallfolk and spending time with them. She never treated them with disdain like Sansa. Arya preferred spending time with them than with her snobby sister and the cruel Cersei. Arya doesn’t believe she’s better than anyone simply because she’s highborn.

“When he was gone, Dany went to her window and looked out wistfully on the waters of the bay. The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. Dany could hear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the estate. For a moment she wished she could be out there with them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at Khal Drogo's manse.” AGOT Dany I

Dany is the exact same as Arya. She would prefer to be with the common people, dresses in plain clothes, barefoot, and no worries. She treats all her people as friends and tells them that they need not be afraid to speak to her about anything. When Doreah is dying, Dany holds her hand and even gives Doreah her water. Similar to when Arya refuses to leave her friend Weasel behind. Dany and Arya also both despise violence against the innocent. Arya is horrified and saddened to learn that even her brother’s men are raping women and killing peasants. Dany doesn’t think peace is worth it, if it’s built on the blood of little children. She even says ”Why do the gods make kings and queens if not to protect the ones who cannot protect themselves?” to Jorah.

Braavos:

Braavos is an important place to both Dany and Arya. For Dany, the house with the red door is the closest thing to a home Dany ever had. She constantly wishes to return to the house. For Arya, she comes here, to the House of Black and White, after losing her friends and family and is training with the Faceless Men. Braavos is something Dany and Arya can bond over if and when they finally meet.

Dragon and Direwolf:

Dany and Arya are blessed with two very magical and special creatures. Arya with her direwolf Nymeria and Dany with her dragons Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion. They both have powerful magical connections to their creatures. Arya can warg into Nymeria. Dany and her dragons can feel each other’s presence. But they also both have lines related to the other animal and… it cannot just be a coincidence. “Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep.” ADWD Dany X

“This time the monsters did not frighten her. They seemed almost old friends. Arya held the candle over her head. With each step she took, the shadows moved against the walls, as if they were turning to watch her pass. "Dragons," she whispered. She slid Needle out from under her cloak. The slender blade seemed very small and the dragons very big, yet somehow Arya felt better with steel in her hand.” AGOT Arya IV

Dany and Arya have so many parallels and similarities. They are like twins! When they do meet I think Dany and Arya will find in each other the sisters neither ever had. Bonus: Oh one more parallel! Dany and Arya both have a horrible older sibling. Dany with Viserys who physically and emotionally abuses her and sells her into sexual slavery. Arya with Sansa who bullies and ridicules her. Dany and Arya have suffered both of them but eventually they both have enough and give those shitty siblings some satisfying payback. When Viserys attacks her, Dany confiscates his horse and forces him to walk at the back. When Sansa cruelly taunts Arya about her friend’s death, Arya throws an orange at Sansa’s face and ruins her dress. And yet… Dany and Arya still love their awful older brother and sister. Dany tries constantly to reach out to Viserys and mourns him after he dies and even names one of her dragons after him. Arya still tries to apologize and comfort Sansa and does wish to see her again.

#arya stark #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #canonarya #canondany #aryastarkmonth2022 #book arya stark #book daenerys #they are so precious #they will be true sisters!#parallels

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agentrouka-blog · 3 years ago

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The way Arya stans have such little empathy for Jeyne Poole's plight is disgusting. It's made worse by how they make Jeyne's trauma all about Arya. I hate it more than the way they diminish Sansa's.

Like for example, there's a scene where just before Jeyne marries Ramsey, she tells Theon that unlike Arya, she's pretty. Arya stans fail to realize that the focus isn't on Arya. It isn't about Jeyne's past teasing of Arya. It's about the fact that Jeyne knows full well that if the Boltons managed to get a hold of the real Arya (or Sansa for that matter), they would kill Jeyne without a second thought. In Jeyne's mind the only thing protecting her is that she's pretty. Therefore, if she's pretty, Ramsay won't care that she's not actually a Stark and therefore the Bolton hold on Winterfell is bogus. It's very similar to Sansas thoughts on Willas. Sansa hopes that if Willas finds her beautiful/falls in love with her, he won't care about her claim to Winterfell.

Anyway Arya stans are trash (not all) and Jeyne Poole is just one of the reasons why

Jeyne is literally offering herself up to Theon as his "wife or whore" in a last desperate attempt to escape this horrific situation. She is terrified. She is trying to find anything to give herself hope.

The bride raised her eyes. Brown eyes, shining in the candlelight. “I will be a good wife to him, and t-true. I … I will please him and give him sons. I will be a better wife than the real Arya could have been, he’ll see.”

Talk like that will get you killed, or worse. That lesson he had learned as Reek. “You are the real Arya, my lady. Arya of House Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter, heir to Winterfell.” Her name, she had to know her name. “Arya Underfoot. Your sister used to call you Arya Horseface.”

“It was me made up that name. Her face was long and horsey. Mine isn’t. I was pretty.”

Tears spilled from her eyes at last. “I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all said I was pretty. Does Lord Ramsay think I am pretty?”

“Yes,” he lied. “He’s told me so.”

“He knows who I am, though. Who I really am. I see it when he looks at me. He looks so angry, even when he smiles, but it’s not my fault. They say he likes to hurt people.” (......)

“Help me.” She clutched at him. “Please. I used to watch you in the yard, playing with your swords. You were so handsome.” She squeezed his arm. “If we ran away, I could be your wife, or your … your whore … whatever you wanted. You could be my man.”

(ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell)

Anyone who zeroes in on "she called Arya Horseface! She is a BULLY!" instead of the visceral terror felt by this child in mortal danger... needs to take a step back and reasses if they really think the author is giving a flying horseshoe about Arya’s petty childhood nickname in this scene. As opposed to depicting a human being caught in a horrible trap, grasping at straws for any shred of hope.

“I can serve this purpose if I try. I can give him sons. Does Ramsay think I am pretty? Might this save me? He likes to hurt people. Could anyone or anything save me?”

It’s heart-wrenching. GRRM wants to remind us that these were all children together at Winterfell, with petty childhood conflicts that pale in comparison to the horrors they are all going through now.

At Winterfell they had called her "Arya Horseface" and she'd thought nothing could be worse, but that was before the orphan boy Lommy Greenhands had named her "Lumpyhead." (ACOK, Arya I)

Literally the opening of her first chapter after her father is murdered. If a nine-year-old can put things in perspective, an adult reading a novel about her should be able to do so as well.

#anti arya stans #jeyne poole #forced marriage #child marriage

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loveanoutcast · 4 years ago

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“Games” | Eren Jaeger

NSFW Content

TW: nsfw content, smut, jealousy, angry sex (sorta?), cockwarming, degradation, dumbification, spanking, oral (male receiving), swearing, slapping, spitting, creampie, breeding, humping, mentions of cheating, praise, major fluff in the end.

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x fem!reader

Other: au, modern eren, gamer!eren, businessman!eren, modern reader, teacher!reader, administrator!reader

This was inspired by another fic and it's smut and angst trash tbh, my brain is rot and manbun eren has be all the way messed up. It's gonna gradually build up to the nsfw but I always imagined Eren being an laid back dom but he can be intense at times and there's tons of aftercare. This is gonna be long as fuck as its kinda a story but yeah enjoy!

It’s not that you wanted to be a nuisance, to be completely honest, whenever you saw him with his headset on you knew it was the signal to not bother him. Eren rarely played his console, his office work kept him plenty busy and it was more of a stress relief than anything. He had never told you to not bother him, but from prior times early in the relationship you knew better. The firm stares, spanking sessions, and edging sessions was enough of a forewarning. Not that it was hard to not bug him, you had your own hobbies and your own life outside of your relationship with Eren, but today had been a particularly shitty day and you were feeling pretty down and in need of your husband's comfort.

Your job was strenuous to say the least, you loved what you did and you worked hard to do good. You were also well educated and had a graceful way of being that often drew attention from both sexes. You worked with children and adults and days were full of meetings, counselings, and occasional events that required you to smile and not lose your temper when a parent or co-worker said the dumbest thing ever. Today was no different, it was two weeks ago when one of your kiddos was having a hard time calming down, you immediately recognized him as Jean Kirstein's son, Jean and Eren hated each other since high school and when you had mentioned his son being in your class months ago, Eren scoffed and muttered disbelief over anyone being willing to sleep with that "horseface". You had noted underlying tones of jealousy from Eren, it was not really a secret that the two of you had been trying for some time to have a child of your own, neither of you verbally confirming it to each other, one day you both stopped using condoms and Eren said nothing when he saw your pill pack in the trash so you took it as the green light but there was no luck so far. Armin and Annie had twins, and even Sasha and Niccolo had a little girl of their own. You and Eren fucked like rabbits but these past few weeks had been a little harder on you emotionally. Being sorrounded by kids day in and day out brought such joy to your life but also made you cry more than once behind a locked stall and the shower floor. You wanted to have a baby so badly, and this often lead you to be insecure around your husband. Especially a husband as dominant and strong as Eren, he was loving and patient with you but you often wondered what went on in his head as he wasn't verbally expressive.

You had let out a sigh as Jean's son had already had three meltdowns prior to this one and you decided it was time to call home. Jean was overwhelmed at work and sounded exhausted, you offered to help him out by tutoring his son for an extra hour three times a week and he was grateful and readily agreed. You understood that being a single parent was hard and it was no problem for you. Eren had been understanding about your desire to help kids and it was one of the things he loved most about you. He had met you at a fundraiser held by the city trying to raise money for the school's new science building. His business was one of the sponsorships and his attendance was mandatory. He didn't hate kids but Eren wasn't a people person, he had dragged Armin and the twins with him. Halfway through the event he noticed the twin he was in charge of had disappeared from his side. He frantically looked everywhere and when he saw the familiar head of pale blond hair he all but sprinted to the little girl. Instead, he found you sitting on your haunches in a pencil skirt and blouse, the heels made your calves look toned and the concerned smile you were giving the girl made him fall in love with you on the spot. You had been hesistant to give her to him, but when she made it clear that Eren was her uncle you let out a sigh of relief for her safety but also in the fact that he wasn’t married with children. You then proceeded to scold Eren for twenty minutes before he asked you out and you dumbly agreed. You smiled at the memory but then frowned slightly. You had told Eren about Jean's son and the agreement the day of the phone call and he all but lost his shit. He has the misconception that tutoring his son would entail spending time with Jean, it took all your strength not to slap the shit out of your husband and instead you told him to grow up and trust you.

That had been two weeks ago. Eren and you hadn’t had sex since then and the one hour sessions often dragged to two. It wasn’t the little boys fault, you noticed how hard he tried in class but the material wouldn’t stick and he needed more attention than most. Jean would also run late sometimes and he was embarrassed to explain that he needed to work overtime to pay the bills since his wife passed. It was one week ago when you decided to treat him and his son to dinner, Eren had texted that he would be in the office late again (A rare occurrence before, but now an almost daily thing since the fight) so you figured it wouldn’t be a big deal. Jean was an oddly funny and kind guy and his son was a constant joy. It wasn’t like you two were friends, but there was a mutual respect and concern over the small child that brought on a fondness for each other.

It was yesterday when Jean sent thank you flowers to your classroom, the pretty sunflowers wrapped in brown paper were given by the little boy you noticed had improved grades. He had proudly exclaimed that his dad and him picked them out themselves and your heart soared. You didn't get into teaching and administrative work for the praise nor the gifts, but for the inner satisfaction of knowing you helped others. You had brightly smiled for the first time in those two weeks and happily made your way home. You noticed Eren wasn’t home yet and jumped into the shower with high spirits, not even crying once. It was during that time that Eren had arrived, he had the intention of trying to make amends but his eyebrows came down in confusion at the bouquet on the countertop. He figured it was from your students and even smiled a bit, despite being pissed he always believed you deserved better pay and praise for working so hard. It wasn’t until he found the note inside the flowers where things took a turn for the worse.

“Thank you for helping me and Jeremy, and thank you for dinner. Next time is on me. -Jean.”

That fight resulted in Eren staying out late. You had woken up alone and cold, tears stained your cheeks and you knew you looked like hell when you got to work. He had slept in the guest bedroom and was gone even before you finished getting dressed. Your kids noticed your saddened mood and seemed to take it upon themselves to work quietly, Mikasa inquired about your mood during lunch and after listening for a while, shook her head.

“My brother can be an idiot. Jean’s always been a sensitive topic for him, but you should have told him about dinner.” She slightly scolded but held your hand in comfort.

“I know, but it just wasn’t a big deal. It was a pizza joint for kids, not a French restaurant with wine. He didn’t even listen to a word I said, he was so angry.”

“Did he hit you or say something he wasn’t suppose to?”

“He’s not like that, Mikasa.” He was, but only in the privacy of your bedroom and only when it was consensual. Eren would never intentionally inflict unwanted pain on you. He was dominant but you were his everything, he always treated you with respect, love, and admiration. You two were just kinky as shit behind closed doors. Mikasa offered little help, and even Connie only gave an apologetic smile. You felt alone.

So seeing him on the couch with the headset on and not even turning to glance at you when you walked in, hurt like hell. You put your stuff on the counter, the keys echoing a little too loud in the quiet space and the only other thing heard was the occasional automatic gaming sounds. You walked to your shared bedroom, seeing that he had tugged his suit off and scattered pieces here and there. You released a sigh before changing yourself. You decided to wear one of his t-shirts, it fell mid-thigh on your frame and you only left your panties on. The smell of his wafted your senses and you shed a few tears and sniffled as you cleaned up the room. He was so close but felt miles away from you. You longed for his touch but tried to fight the urge. After cleaning you decided to read a bit, grabbing your favorite novel you shyly walked to the living room. You couldn't touch him but you wanted to be near him nonetheless. Your husband only wore a pair of sweatpants and you felt tears pinch your eyes again, he was beautiful but so stupid.

Eren looked at you from the corner of his eye, he noticed you sporting one of his old tees from his time in the military and he pressed the button on the control a little harder than necessary. His eyes immediately shifted back when Levi’s voice came through the headset,

“Oi! Jaeger! Pay attention, brat! If you cost us the game, I will beat the shit out of you in our next meeting.”

“Yeah, Yeah I got it.” He said, seeing from his peripheral vision that his wife glanced at him. He felt annoyed, with you and with Jean, and he felt fucking pissed off. He didn’t mean to yell so harshly last night, and he left when he saw you get teary eyed, but why the fuck did you have to be so nice and go out to dinner with the one guy he fucking hated?

He could hear as you turned the pages of the book. He didn’t mind you being there, but it wasn’t helping his anger. You weren’t saying anything and you weren't making any moves towards him, but he knew it was the headset stopping you. When the round ended and the server was looking for a new match, he glanced at you. You were so entrapped by the chapter you didn’t notice; he did however notice you not wearing shorts. Your legs were bent as you balanced the book on your knees and gave him a good view of your pretty panties and Eren felt himself twitch in his sweats. It had been two painful weeks without any intimacy from you and he longed to pump a load in you.

The new game started and he noticed two additional players joining.

“Eren,” Mikasa said, “Is Y/N there?”

“Yeah,” He muttered, “Why do you ask?”

“Is she with you?”

“Tch,” He scoffed “Do you not have her number? Ask her yourself.”

“What’s with the attitude Jaeger?” Levi asked, “She’s asking a simple question. You and the missus fighting or did she finally realize how out of your league she is?”

Eren said nothing, but shifted to sit back on the couch. He had a deep scowl and you felt yourself worry. Were you annoying him by being there?

“It wasn’t like that and you know it. Jean’s wife died three months ago and he’s struggling. She’s helping his son at school, not everyone has a beautiful loyal wife like yours and it was an arcade pizza joint for shit’s sake. Keep up the shitty attitude Eren, and she’ll eventually get tired of it. Gods know we have.” Mikasa blabbed and he killed three enemies in one go. His jaw locked painfully hard at the new information and you scooted a bit closer to him, you reached out to him, your hand hanging mid-air, your book long forgotten as you needed him so badly. Your neediness was something he often encouraged but would treat with “punishments”. You just wanted him to look at you.

“Yeah,” Armin spoke for the first time, “Y/N’s kind but even kindness wears off. You gotta trust her.”

“What is this? Therapy?” Levi scoffed.

“Well I say let her get tired,” Connie had a tone that further annoyed Eren, “Maybe she’ll just up and leave this time.”

Eren released a gasp and you pinched the top of his joggers, you were on your knees on the couch now, closer to him than before but not too close to be pressed against him. Connie’s next words had him fuming.

“I mean...she did mention Jean was pretty nice.”

His breathing had deepened and his eyes met yours, the pretty green had deepened so darkly that you gasped. He spit the next words out.

“Suck my dick.”

You moved a little to eagerly. You wanted him so badly, and you weren't even sure he was talking to you but he lifted his arm to let you slip under. You laid your upper body on him sideways, your lower half still on the couch as you perched your ass up. You felt his arm on your upper back as he continued the game.

Lowering his sweatpants, you saw how he had no briefs on and let out a quiet moan as his hard cock slapped against his stomach. You looked up at his with big eyes and he briefly glanced at you, giving you a firm nod. You took him in your mouth with no time to waste, you hollowed out your cheeks and didn't care how messy you were being. Eren loved sloppy head and you couldn't remember the last time you were given free reign to do as you please with his cock in your mouth. His pre-cum was sweet and you felt dabbles of your spit collecting on the sides of your mouth, you released him and took a deep breath before spitting on the head of his dick and giving it a few licks, your hand worked him at the base. You looked at your husband and how his eyes lowered only slightly. It wasn’t enough, you ached for him in so many places and more than anything you longed to have him in you. The pressing of his arm on your back was a signal so you continued to suck him off. Your husband was large in size and thick enough to make you feel so full. Whatever couldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by your hand, but you knew that if he wasn't playing the game he would have forced you to take all of him, ignoring your gags and pulling your hair when you could take a breath.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice the round had ended. Eren patted your head and you released him. Your jaw felt sore from the lack of use the past few weeks and you were a vision with your hair double in volume and chest heaving in breathlessness. He pressed a button that indicated his mic had been muted. He stared at you, tracing your lips with his thumb and swiping some of the spit off the swollen pair.

“My love?” You sat up on your knees, closer to him and pawed at his chest. He released a deep breath and shook his head.

“Take off your panties and sit on my lap.”

You happily stood up, giving him such a bright smile that he felt a tug at his chest. Your panties were quickly on the floor and he didn’t miss the fresh damp patch of white fluids on it. You helped lower his sweatpants before straddling his lap. Just when you were reaching for his dick, he locked your hands in one of his and gripped you by your jaw with the other. You whimpered as you stared with shock and confusion. He brought your face closer to his and said,

“You went out with a guy I fucking loathe, do you know how much that hurt? If you want my dick, you’re gonna have to work for it.” You opened your mouth to protest and he stuck two of his fingers inside.

“Suck.”

You licked and sucked at them, lowering yourself so your slick was aligned with his member. You desperately humped Eren and he almost smirked at your desperation. You felt fucking amazing and he felt the urge to thrust up to further coat himself with your wetness.

“The next rounds gonna start. I want you to stay quiet and behave. Don’t piss me off anymore. I mean it.” He took out his fingers and you quietly spoke.

“Can I ride you while you play, my love? I promise I’ll be good. I’ll be a good wife and I won’t make a sound, I need you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses but he looked so aloof. As if you dripping on his dick was nothing and he could be doing something better with his time.

“You wanted to act like a whore, you can wait like one. Keep it warm but don’t fucking move.”

You nodded slowly and almost sadly, but you felt a fire in you coil in excitement. Eren was rough and mean in bed and it was something you fucking loved. He always spoiled you in public and was so undeniably sweet but it was these dark moments that got both of you off, it always led to the best sex.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Daddy?” He slightly smirked, “Yeah, I bet you do have a thing for daddies.”

“Ere-” You began to protest but your words got cut off by Eren slapping you across the face. Hard. You felt the after sting and and his hand lingered for a few seconds, you turned your head and pressed a soft kiss to his palm to let him know it was okay.

He shook his head at you and pressed the button on his headset. You felt your pussy clench at nothing and it was the snap of his fingers that made you hustle. You grabbed the ends of his shirt before tugging it over your head and throwing it to the side. He looked around you at the screen, his face lacking any emotion as you slowly lowered yourself on him. You were plenty wet but adjusting to his size took a bit and it was so rare you had control.

Eren had other plans, one hand grabbing your waist as he pushed you forcefully down on him and your let out a small cry. You hid yourself in the crook of his neck and he felt your breath come out in a shudder, your pussy clenched him and he let out a breath of relief at feeling you, you were like a soft wet fist and he focused on not thrusting into you. He let his anger be his self-control. He gave your ass a slap, kneading the flesh before starting the round.

“What was that?” You could hear the group through the headset and stilled your movements, not wanting them to hear what you and your husband were up to. You felt incredibly dirty but that only made you wetter, your face hot with blush as you gave kisses to Eren’s neck and shoulder.

“Nothing important.” Eren replied to Armin in a bored tone. That stung only slightly, knowing he was doing it on purpose, you bit his cheek playfully and he shook his head as if disappointed and irritated.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, sitting on his dick and trying hard not to grind on him. You kept giving him kisses, leaving him hickeys scattered across his collarbones, and letting your hands explore wherever they could land. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his scalp and feeling rewarded when he hummed in approval. You whispered sweet things into his neck, being mindful of how close the mic was. You continued to drip on him and he felt it puddle on the couch.

“I love you.” You whispered, “You’re the only one for me, my love. I’m so lucky to have you.”

He shifted slightly, causing him to rub against your walls and you quietly made a lewd noise. His expression stayed blank but he moved two more times before settling back, his way of saying he liked what you were doing. You were getting a bit desperate, it felt like it had been twenty minutes and he still wasn’t hinting you to move.

“Levi, watch out. They’re heading your way.” Eren said, giving your hips a squeeze when you laid against his chest, he wanted to make sure you stayed a awake. The last time he put you in this position, you fell asleep on him and he had to fight the urge to fuck you in your slumber.

“Got it.” Levi said, “So Jaeger, if it’s Jean’s kid who’s taking your wife’s attention, why don’t you just have a little runt yourself?”

Y/N tensed at Levi’s words. Eren noticed and let out a sigh. He placed his chin on top of your head and mumbled-

“It’s not...that simple.”

“Shooting empty, eh?” Levi snickered and Eren could hear Mikasa let out a sound of disgust and Connie cackle. It was his next words that furthered his rage.

“Well you could always lend her to me for the night. She’s so pretty, I wouldn’t mind giving her a brat.” It was obviously a joke, but Y/N had met Levi a few times and couldn't deny that a little boy with his gray eyes would be cute. Her pussy involuntarily clenched and Eren grunted in annoyance.

“Fuck me.”

He leaned all the way back now, his eyes looking over you in a bored manner and you smiled sweetly, pecking his lips a few times before resting your hands on his shoulders. He continued to look around you at the television but loved seeing your tits bounce. The slick of your heat and the build up wetness made a squelching noise every time your skins slapped against each other and you happily rode your husband. You made sure to stay quiet, biting down on your lip to not let out a few screams.

“I want a baby.” He said after some time, you felt tears build at the corner of your eyes and he glanced at you, his expression softening significantly and he nodded in encouragement. His hand cupped your breast, fingers pinching your nipple and you let out a soft moan. You arched into him and looked up at the ceiling as you felt yourself nearing. His hand had to leave to grab the controller and your decided to play with your breasts yourself. Your pace began to quicken and you continuous squeezing let him know you were close to an orgasm.

“I’m sure you two will get pregnant soon.” Armin’s words were so sweet and encouraging and you almost said thank you before remembering the position you were in.

“Yeah, you just have to keep trying.” Mikasa added.

“Trust me,” Eren laughed, “We’re trying.”

You rolled your eyes, slowing down a bit before he gave you a stern look. You blushed knowing you were just caught giving attitude but decided to pay for it later. You grinded against Eren harder, your hand desperately grabbing at everything as you felt the familiar tightening in your lower region.

“I’m-I’m...ngah!” You threw your head back, bright spots crossing your vision as you clamped down on him, your eyes screwed shut, and your voice was so high and breathless, “Eren!”

You slumped against him, body a little tired but buzzing with the post-orgasmic state. You left kisses on his chest.

“Hey Eren, I think Y/N called for you.” Connie said and you let out a quiet giggle in embarrassment that they heard that, thankful that they assumed it was you somewhere else and not knowing you were actually seated on his cock.

“Yeah, she did. Guess I better finish this off.” Eren smirked, “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

They bid their goodbyes and you stayed with your head on his chest as he threw the controller to the side. His hands ripped his headset off, tossing it away from him before you felt his hands on your hips. He tapped your thigh to make you look at him.

“You came without my permission, angel.”

“You were busy,” You looked down and fiddled with your fingers. “It’s not like I could have asked you.”

He scowled at you and you looked anywhere but at him, he gripped your jaw again before giving you another slap.

“Coming without my permission and talking back? You really want to piss me off, don’t you?” He chuckled. He tapped your lip, and you opened your mouth.

He spit right in and hummed in approval as he watched you swallow.

“Go to the room. Hands and knees, now.” He sent a smack to your ass as you got off him. Standing up you could see and feel how wet and horny you were for him, the inside of your thighs leaked all the way to the back your knees. Eren discarded his joggers, watching as you climbed onto your shared bed and hoisting your ass up in the air. He loved how well you arched your back for him. He had left a red welt on one cheek from how hard he spanked you.

As he mounted you from behind, you felt goosebumps rise on your skin as his fingers explored your inner folds. He rubbed your clit in soft circles before aligning himself with your entrance. You buried your head in the pillow as he bottomed out in you. This new angle was overwhelming and you could feel drool leaving your mouth as he began his onslaught, the stretch was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The one thing you loved about Eren was how lost he would get while fucking you, he would say the filthiest things and sometimes you would egg him on just so he could fuck you senseless.

“Fuck. Fuck. Tight, so fucking tight.” He hissed, “How are you still so tight after all this time? Guess we gotta get you a bigger toy, huh?”

You only nodded and made some incoherent noises. His hands grip your hips pulling them to smack harder against him and its making you moan so noisily. He slaps your ass a few times for good measure.

“Look at how good your pussy is sucking me in,” He went on, “Such a pretty pussy, my pretty pussy huh?”

His hips were slapping against your ass so hard as you nodded, “Yes daddy, yours all yours.”

“You’ve been behaving so bad, I have half a mind of coming on your back. Maybe get you to open that pretty mouth and coat that pretty face.”

You shook your head in protest, reaching behind you and grabbing him by his wrist in a feeble attempt to keep him in you.

“Use your words, angel.”

“I want you to give me a baby, please.” You cried out. This only made him slow his thrust to a painfully slow rhythm.

“You sure you want me to get your pregnant? From going to dinner with that asshole and getting turned on by what Levi said, it seems to me that you want just anyone to breed a bitch like you.”

For some reason you got bold, you looked back at him, admiring the thin layer of sweat covering his god-like body and smirked right at him.

“Well maybe I can take Levi up on his offer, he did say I was pretty enough.”

“You’d ask my former captain to get you pregnant?”

You shrugged and felt the sting of where he smacked your ass.

“What makes your think he would agree to it after seeing what a fucking cumslut you are? You think he could fuck you like this?”

You let out a soft laugh and almost regretted it because he hooked his fingers into your mouth, your spit going everywhere as he kept with his raw fucking.

“You’d like that would’t you? Getting his cock in you like this, having him fuck you where we sleep.” He didn’t let you respond as he suddenly sped up, it was beginning to burn but he ignored your cries. Gripping your hair he brought you onto your hands and you felt your tongue loll out of your mouth. He was hitting your cervix and it was so painful but so good.

“I’m gonna do you a favor and dump this load in you, then I’m taking you on your back like the good slut you are.”

You could only moan and clench your walls around him, he rocked harder against you and the sound of his deep throaty moan was heard before you felt warm cum coat your insides, you panted hard as Eren rode out his orgasm, using your sore and willing body to milk him dry.

He wasted no time in flipping you around. Your hair stuck to your forehead and your breath was erratic. Eren used his fingers to spread your lips, watching as his come oozed out before pushing it back in with his thumb.

Entering you this time, he worked to get you to come with him. He gripped your wrists so tightly you knew you would have to wear long sleeves for the next few days at school. The thought of any of the kids seeing made you burn with embarrassment. Eren noticed this.

“Why so red?”

“You’re hurting me,” You shyly state, one leg wrapping around his waist and the other was near his calf as he continued thrusting into you. “I’m gonna have to hide the marks.”

“Oh I see,” He chuckled, he released your wrists just to grab your jaw again, forcing your mouth open before spitting in it again, “Worried those little brats will find out just how much of a slut their Y/N is, huh? maybe the board would love to hear how much you beg for this cock, know about all the times you showed up to a meeting fucked out and cum filled.”

You panted harder, his words getting you off as you remembered the times you did show up to events with cum slicked thighs, you were sure some could even smell the sex off of you. You clamped on him harder, moaning and screaming loudly as you felt yourself near your second orgasm.

“Please let me cum,” You cried, soft tears leaving your eyes and Eren smirked, “Please come with me. Please. Please.”

You both rocked against each other, reaching the same climax at the same time. With a few more hard thrusts, Eren let out a loud howl that sounded almost non-human and your mouth felt open in a soundless gasp as you felt yourself squirt all over him and yourself. He collapsed on top of you, mindful of his weight but you didn’t mind. You loved when he did that and how warm his body was after sex. A few minutes passed as you both tried to catch your breath and he stayed inside of you even though he wasn’t as hard anymore.

Getting on his elbows, Eren looked to see that your cheeks were still red and eyes still hooded.

Beautiful green eyes peered into yours and you gave a smile.

“Hey.” He said to you, thumbs rubbing your cheeks.

“Hi.” You shyly mumbled, “I missed you, my love.”

“I know.” Eren looked away from you, leaning his head back and you began to move on him again. His hand on your hip halted your movements.

“I’m sorry about Jean and about the dinner and the flowers, please let me show you how you’re the only one I love.”

“You already did, baby. I heard about his wife, and the overtime,” Eren responded so steadily and quietly that you felt a sudden wave of panic, he was always calm before he would get aggressive. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“It hurt my feelings that you needed me to explain at all. I wanted you to trust me.”

“Angel,” He sighed, he rolled off of you and onto his side before bringing you closer to him but his eyes closed, he was still buried in you and you tentatively grinded on him to ensure he would stay hard, you weren’t done being like this yet. “You need to understand this. I thought Jean was a single dad, I had no idea about his wife. I hated thinking you were finding a family with him and Jeremy, especially since I haven’t been able to give you a baby.”

You shook your head like a child, grabbing him by either side of his cheeks you cooed at your husband, making him look at you. Your kissed him vigorously and heavily, you forced your tongue into his mouth and tried to mumble as many I love yous before he gripped your wrists and pulled away.

“Eren,” You pressed your chest against his, your nipples still taut and he sighed at the feel of you with him. It had been too long, these past two weeks when you two would be in bed there was no cuddling, once he woke up to you holding him from behind, your forehead between his shoulder blades and he reached behind him to touch you once over before untangling you from him. It pained him but he was clouded by anger and jealousy.

You brought his attention back to focus as you continued, “You are my home. You are my family. If we have a baby, I will be over the moon, but I want babies with you. Only you.”

“What if I can’t?”

“That’s okay!” You said to quickly and he gripped your chin again, bringing you close in an almost painful way.

“Don’t lie to me. I hear you in the shower, angel.”

You gasped before feeling tears pour from your eyes. You clung to him, crying out all the frustration from the fights and the past few weeks but murmuring how much you loved him and reassuring him that it was gonna be okay.

He believed you as hard as it was to do so. He knew you loved him immensely and he held you as you cried, shushing your whimpers and giving a few thrusts to reassure you that he wasn’t completely over the position you were in.

“I’m not done with you,” He said after a few minutes, “I’m gonna give you at least four loads tonight and two in the morning. I’m not stopping until I know you’re gonna be barefoot and full with my kids.

You beamed that smile he had been longing to see, capturing his lips with yours as he rolled you over and began thrusting into your heat. You moaned loudly and let out a sigh of pleasure. Your husband was so overbearing, and there was no certainty that you’d be pregnant by morning, but the way he snapped his hips to hit that spot made it worth it.

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