#ilyn > the others

[ilynpilled]

With his grim face and deep-sunk hollow eyes, Ser Ilyn might have passed for death himself…

[kingslayerstew]

jaimeilyn from the perspective of jaimes entourage...

[melrosing]

payne revelation!!! think it is a nice AFFC parallel that Brienne is running around the riverlands with Podrick Payne as her new squire, whilst Jaime, elsewhere in the riverlands, has effectively become a squire to Ilyn Payne. and I think it's like. Pod is Brienne's past and Ilyn is Jaime's future. Pod is a lonely, discarded child who wants to hone his strength to stand tall and defend himself, even as he desperately craves the company and comfort of others. he has seen something of how cruel the world can be, but is looking for ideals in people like Brienne. which is more or less exactly as we find Brienne when she first appears in ACOK: lonely, discarded, clinging onto Renly's train and desperately seeking his attention and regard, idealising him, trying to be a knight worthy of song. Pod is her inner child, and Brienne is trying to help him grow and build his strength without subjecting him to the cruelties she's known in doing so.

and then there's jaime and ilyn lmao, who I think are easily one of the most underrated relationships in the series. Jaime sees the man he could become in Ilyn: nothing more than a headsman for Cersei's whims, with no agency and no autonomy. and what's more, Ilyn has come to accept that as his lot in life. part of Jaime's project in dragging him out into the riverlands is to see if Ilyn can be rehabilitated, and if so, then perhaps Jaime himself can be, too. but it becomes apparent that Ilyn is past wanting that for himself. he seems to enjoy some of the freedom of the march, but he doesn't change. in fact, he laughs in Jaime's face: he makes it feel as though attempting rehabilitation for either of them is a joke. he's Jaime's ghost of christmas future, warning him of the man he could become, whilst simultaneously making him feel there's no possible alternative. he will never fight like he once did, his darkest deeds were still done, and what can he do but spend the rest of his days in Cersei's service. BUT jaime ultimately rejects that, effectively leaving Cersei's service to join Brienne, and pursuing change regardless.

im about to say something!!!! payne..... pane..... pane of glass.... mirror!!!! reflection!!!!! growth!!!!! you heard it here FIRST

[julibf]

Sansa Stark and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight 

Prince Aemon Targaryen, the Dragonknight, by Chillyravenart ©

It's very interesting to notice that Sansa absolutely adores the love story between Queen Naerys and her brother Prince Aemon, the brave Knight name will frequently appear on her chapters all over the books. For those who don't know, the rumours tell the story that Prince Aemon was madly in love with his sister Princess Naerys.

Naerys was very close to Aemon but was forced by her father to marry her other brother Aegon the Unworthy. The singers say that Prince Aemon cried during the wedding and Naerys also cried during the bedding ceremony. Some will say that their love was caste and pure and that nothing happened between them, others will swear that Naerys first son, prince Daeron, was from her affair with the Dragonknight. There are several tales and rumours about their relationship.

"Naerys loved Prince Aemon the most out of her two brothers, as he knew how to make her laugh. Aemon was also more like Naerys in character, while Prince Aegon was not. Yet, in 153 AC, Naerys was married to Aegon at their father's orders. The singers like to claim that both Aemon and Naerys wept during the ceremony, but the truth is different: Aemon is known to have quarreled with Aegon during the feast, and Naerys wept during the bedding, not the actual wedding.[1] Prince Aemon joined the Kingsguard soon after the wedding, at the age of seventeen."

So, lets go to the books. Literally in her first chapter of A GAME OF THRONES, we have Sansa comparing Joffrey with Prince Aemon. You can see from the way Sansa talks how much she loves this tale and her hero, the Dragonknight.

"A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders. (A Game of Thrones - Sansa I)

Later, when Ned Stark informs Sansa that she and Arya are leaving Kings Landing and are going back to Winterfell, she tells him she can not go and compares the love she feels for Joffrey like the love Queen Naerys felt for her brother Prince Aemon.

"Who cares about your stupid dancing master?" Sansa flared. "Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies." 

"Sweet one," her father said gently, "listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me."(A Game of Thrones - Sansa III)

In A CLASH OF KINGS, when Princess Myrcella is being sent away to Dorne, for her marriage alliance with Prince Trystan, little prince Tommen is crying because he will miss his sister and Sansa tries to console the poor boy telling him the tale of Prince Aemon.

Horns blew fanfares as Lionstar and Lady Lyanna pushed out from shore, moving downriver to clear the way for Seaswift. A few cheers went up from the crush along the banks, as thin and ragged as the clouds scuttling overhead. Myrcella smiled and waved from the deck. Behind her stood Arys Oakheart, his white cloak streaming. The captain ordered lines cast off, and oars pushed the Seaswift out into the lusty current of the Blackwater Rush, where her sails blossomed in the wind—common white sails, as Tyrion had insisted, not sheets of Lannister crimson. Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry."

"Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound." (A Clash of Kings - Tyrion IX)

When Sansa is having nightmares about the riots in Kings Landing and for heroes like the Dragonknight that she calls to save her.

That night Sansa dreamed of the riot again. The mob surged around her, shrieking, a maddened beast with a thousand faces. Everywhere she turned she saw faces twisted into monstrous inhuman masks. She wept and told them she had never done them hurt, yet they dragged her from her horse all the same. "No," she cried, "no, please, don't, don't," but no one paid her any heed. She shouted for Ser Dontos, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, for gallant Ser Loras who had given her a red rose once, but none of them came. She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian and Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but no one heard. (A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV)

Now we are getting ready for the Blackwater Battle, Sansa has joined Queen Cersei in Maegor's Keep where all the high born ladies are gathered. Cersei is explaining Sansa what happens when a city is sacked and invaded and that many women will be raped and murdered.

"True knights would never harm women and children." The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.

"True knights." The queen seemed to find that wonderfully amusing. "No doubt you're right. So why don't you just eat your broth like a good girl and wait for Symeon Star-Eyes and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight to come rescue you, sweetling. I'm sure it won't be very long now." (A Clash of Kings - Sansa V)

Sansa loves the love songs so much that she even cries when she listen the singers telling those sad and romantic tales.

After the meal had been cleared away, many of the guests asked leave to go to the sept. Cersei graciously granted their request. Lady Tanda and her daughters were among those who fled. For those who remained, a singer was brought forth to fill the hall with the sweet music of the high harp. He sang of Jonquil and Florian, of Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and his love for his brother's queen, of Nymeria's ten thousand ships. They were beautiful songs, but terribly sad. Several of the women began to weep, and Sansa felt her own eyes growing moist. (A Clash of Kings - Sansa VI)

For me all those references to Aemon and his Queen Naerys is a big foreshadow of the future romance between Jon and Sansa, not only she doesn't seem to mind the romance between brother and sister, she seems to wish this kind of romance in her life. Funny enough, guess who was trying to be Prince Aemon the Dragonsknight in his childhood plays???? That would be Jon Snow!!!!!

Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm PrinceAemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool" (A Storm of Swords - Jon XII)

And another curious detail I noticed, Maester Aemon at Castle Black was named for the Dragonknight. We all know he was a big influence on Jon's life and he was the one who tells Jon how love is the death of duty!!!!!!

A toothless smile quivered on the ancient lips. "Only a maester of the Citadel, bound in service to Castle Black and the Night's Watch. In my order, we put aside our house names when we take our vows and don the collar." The old man touched the maester's chain that hung loosely around his thin, fleshless neck. "My father was Maekar, the First of his Name, and my brother Aegon reigned after him in my stead. My grandfather named me for Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, who was his uncle, or his father, depending on which tale you believe. Aemon, he called me …" (A Game of Thrones - Jon VIII)

I think Sansa will have NO PROBLEM falling in love with Jon Snow and having a romance with him. He will be her WolfKnight, and there love will be a beautiful song!!!

PS- It feels sooo good writing about ASOIAF, SANSA, JONSA AND ALL again. I missed this a lot, just wished we could get Winds of Winter soon. I want to read about them, not only write metas about future storylines, sigh!!!!!

[janearts]

Are Roisia’s ghouls the ones from Necromancy of Thay? If so how does that work? Does Astarion have his own set or did she not share it with him?

Answered your questions in detail below the cut!

TL;DR: Some! Does exactly what it says on the tin. No and yes.

Are Roisia’s ghouls the ones from Necromancy of Thay?

They could be, but they aren't necessarily! Roisia is a Necromancer so the ghouls from the Necromancy of Thay stack with the number of summons Necromancers accrue as they rise in power. IIRC, Roisia had a pack of 10 ghouls following her by the end of her adventure. Unless I draw winged ghouls, the ghouls from NoT are indistinguishable from her regular ghoul summons.

If so how does that work?

I wasn't sure what you meant by this question, so I'm gently adding a spoiler tag for anyone who hasn't undertaken or finished the Necromancy of Thay questline. I saw no reason why Roisia's canon should be different from in-game: she unlocks the spellbook, she persists despite the onslaught of the spirits that protect the book, and she continues to hone her mastery of Necromancy with The Tharchiate Codex. (I drew what a protective spirit might look like to Roisia in this post if you're curious!)

Does Astarion have his own set or did she not share it with him?

I was confused by this question, and it (in combination with the previous question) made me wonder whether or not you've played through the quest or the game itself. No judgement at all if you haven't! If you haven't played one or the other, then I should let you know that, to my knowledge, the Necromancy of Thay can only be read by one character of the player's choosing. I, obviously, chose to give a Necromantic tome to my Necromancer. So Astarion does not have his own set in my game (or canon) because Roisia needed the book for her own purposes.

But, that being said, even if Roisia could share the spellbook, she wouldn't. I know I frequently portray Roisia as someone who is kind-hearted, generous, and compassionate—(and she is all of those things!)—but I don't wish those qualities to overshadow the fact that she is also—(simultaneously!)—ambitious, ruthless, and power-hungry. Everything in Ilyn Toth's lab was hers for the taking as far as she was concerned.

[mumms-the-word]

Shadow Curse Events Pt. 1

Ketheric, Selûne, Shar, and Aylin

I’ve played through the game a few times at this point and I always find myself struggling to understand the timeline or at least order of events that occurred with the Shadow Curse. I know some things conflict because there was one version of the story in Early Access (the version where Halsin accidentally killed Isobel) and it was heavily altered for the final version of the game, and some things just got *gestures vaguely* waved away, but I keep wanting to make sense of it anyway.

So that’s what this post (edit: I mean series) is going to do. After the cut, obviously. Long deep dive post ahead! Picture of a tired Ketheric for attention and because same bro c':

TLDR: These events happen either in the 1370s or the 1390s. Ketheric loses Melodia (his wife) and Isobel (his daughter) and turns to Shar. He captures Aylin, then builds a Big Dark Justiciar Army, training them and forcing them to kill Aylin over and over. Meanwhile, a Selûnite resistance is brewing in the town, and it's kind of making everything worse. One Selûnite rebel even goes so far as to make a deal with a devil. And all of that is BEFORE the Harpers and druids arrive as an army.

We don’t have dates, unfortunately, aside from knowing that the shadow curse itself was unleashed about a century ago, so “timeline” would be a loose term to use if/when I use it. But I have two theories about when it happened.

One theory is that because the Spellplague was happening between 1385-1395 DR (during which there was neither a true Weave nor a Shadow Weave, which is what the shadow curse is made of), the shadow curse likely started around 1396-1399, just shy of a full 100 years before the game’s events in 1492. But that’s just me conjecturing based on the idea that if the Shadow Weave is gone…how does the shadow curse stick around? 

The other theory is that the shadow curse was unleashed sometime between 1371 and 1374. This is because a) Dark Justiciars were still being sent by Ketheric Thorm to destroy Moonhaven (the Blighted Village) in 1371 (Ketheric writes a letter about attacking Moonhave and a journal dated 1371 boasts that Ilyn Toth, the basement apothecary-necromancer dude, got killed by Dark Justiciars) and b) because Khelben Arunsun himself, the literal Blackstaff (super powerful and very old wizard), wrote a letter negotiating surrender on behalf of the Harpers.

We cannot be party to the suffering of the people of Reithwin, and indeed, of the great loss of life that this war will visit upon the Sword Coast - and, perhaps, beyond it. So it is written, and so let it be done, Khelben Arunsun, on behalf of the High Harper Council and its allies.

Wiki says Khelben broke his alliance with the Harpers in 1370 due to some disagreements, but it’s possible his splinter faction was at the battlefield with the other Harpers. I doubt he was there personally, but who knows. I wouldn’t go any earlier than 1371, though, because Baldur’s Gate II happens in 1369, and Jaheira would have been too busy dealing with those events to deal with Ketheric too. But it can’t be later than 1374,  because Khelben Arunsun dies in 1374.

(I have questions about how the shadow curse survived the Spellplague and the loss of the Shadow Weave, but the answer to that could simply be All Magic Was Weird and Unstable at the time…plus Thaniel was already in the Shadowfell by this time, so the land couldn't heal.)

So it’s either 1371-1374 (because of the Khelben timeline, and I guess the Spellplague didn’t affect it) or it’s 1396-1399 (because of the Spellplague, but the writers just forgot Khelben was dead by that point, or maybe his ghost wrote the surrender notice idk). Both are good enough for Halsin and Jaheira to talk about things happening “a century ago,” but you can see why I’m avoiding dates.

But let’s push it back a few more decades. Back when Ketheric was a Selûnite and Isobel a very small child.

As we’re probably all well aware, during this time, Ketheric worships Selûne along with his wife, Melodia. At some point, he even commissions the local Mason’s Guild to build Moonrise as a testament to Selûne herself, according to Morfred the mason (who you can talk to in House of Hope, it’s pretty cool). Ketheric and Melodia have Isobel, but then Melodia dies while Isobel is still pretty young. Ketheric remains a Selûnite, mostly for Isobel’s sake, until she dies too.

Ketheric: I’ll tell you a story, True Soul. About a man who sold himself piece by piece. He had…everything. A wonderful wife. A brilliant daughter. They lived not far from here. His wife died too young. Grief tore through their home like a thief, snatching away the scent of her hair, the rustle of her skirts. But the man did not break. He could not break. His daughter needed him whole, after all. She grew up—grew strong. Challenged him. Filled his heart with such joy it supplanted all sorrow. When she was killed, the man…he tried to remain whole, but it wasn’t possible. Do you understand? Player: So the man fell to pieces. Ketheric: The pain was unbearable. All-consuming. He decided he’d do anything for reprieve. First, he sold himself to the goddess of loss. But the pain did not subside, no matter his obscene feats of devotion. Then a new god came—a god who promised the man something wonderful: his daughter. Her life returned. Imagine it. He would have to give everything: his body and soul entire. He did not hesitate. Not for a moment.

We know this story. Ketheric turns to Shar and everything goes Very, Very Badly. But the exact details/order of Ketheric's Sharran days are a little hazy. So here's what I've been able to piece together to sate my own curiosity.

While Ketheric is still a faithful (but waning) Selûnite, Dame Aylin visits as an emissary of Selûne. Moonrise/Reithwin is a Selûnite refuge and the Thorms are allegedly devout favorites of the moon goddess, so it's a big deal. While she's there, she and Isobel fall in love. Ketheric disapproves, in part because Aylin is immortal and Isobel is not (Isobel and Aylin both say this in dialogue).

Plus, and this is a personal opinion, I think Ketheric might have seen Aylin's interest in Isobel as another thing Selûne was trying to take from him. It isn't enough that Selûne let Melodia die, now her daughter is trying to woo his daughter and take her too.

But then Isobel dies. Somehow. The launch version of the game isn’t clear how. Aylin mourns but Ketheric spirals. He turns to Shar, hoping she will force him to forget about Isobel, but he doesn't. Nevertheless, he becomes a zealous Sharran.

[A journal spanning years, beginning with the birth of a child and ending with what appears to be a series of dateless tragedies.] How can she be gone? Where did she go? The Moonmaiden cannot be so unfeeling - so cruel. Not toward her most devoted servant. Not after Melodia. It makes no sense. It makes no sense. I won't survive it. That much I know. Forgetting is the only possibility. The embrace of oblivion. The reprieve of nothingness. It would not be possible for a man to survive knowing what he knows. Knowing what can be lost. Shar understands that. Hers is the only mercy I can comprehend. My mind is full of holes - yet not enough. The emptiness. The time. The nothingness. And still I remember. Still I remember it all. There is no mercy in this beating heart. There is no mercy in life at all.

He builds the Gauntlet of Shar (or maybe renovates and Shar-ifies it, maybe it was already there) beneath the Thorm mausoleum, connecting it to the much more ancient Grymforge area. Grymforge becomes a kind of base or stronghold for the Justiciar army while the Gauntlet is designed to test their mettle and prepare them for the task that will make them official Dark Justiciars—killing Aylin, though it's not clear when Ketheric and Balthazar lure her into the Shadowfell.

I'll get back to that later.

We know that Grymforge was used as a Dark Justiciar stronghold and possible training ground because of all the Sharran stuff we find there. It's like super obvious. The feasthall room, the dormitories, the weapons that lay everywhere. There's basically a whole Sharran city in the Underdark beneath and near Reithwin, some of which we can see from various points in Grymforge. In fact, if you go through the poisoned room where Nere is, you can see the Gauntlet down below.

(It's a little hard to see here 'cause I play on console but there's a glimpse of the giant Shar statue that takes up a ton of space in the Gauntlet. Somehow, the two places used to connect.)

Ketheric's new Sharran teachings are ruthless and vicious. He encourages his Dark Justiciars to kill a Selûnite once a tenday or more as part of their training and service to the Lady of Loss.

The Law of Nightfall: From the moon falls the foulest of lights. iIt peeks through cracks and fissures, illuminating the most remote recesses of the Underdark. Light bestows hope, a pernicious notion which must be extinguished. At the darkest hour, pray to your Lady and feast in Her honour. The second day after, slay a disciple of Selûne. If none may be found, a Lathanderian or Mystran are an acceptable offering. Do this once a tenday, and the Lady of Loss shall know you.

Reithwin and the surrounding village soon become a hunting ground. Most people convert. Those who don't get hung in the square as examples (according to a shadow memory). All faithful Selûnites are forced to practice their devotion to the Moonmaiden in secret, led by Morfred the mason and his brother Halfred the innkeeper of Last Light Inn. Halfred hides Selûnite relics beneath Last Light (you can still find them) while Morfred plots a true resistance.

[Hidden amidst columns detailing the income and expenditure of a tavern is an aside, written in tiny, urgent handwriting.] I have concealed the sacred relics of our revered goddess in the darkest corner of this place. Morfred, my loyal brother, seeks to forge a network of allies to stand against the oppressive reign of Ketheric Thorm. Sadly, fear has gripped the hearts of many, turning them away from our cause. I cannot truly blame them, for trepidation fills my soul as well - but I must put aside my own fears and reunite with Morfred in the bowels of the Mason's Guild. Together, we shall preserve what we can of the Moonmaiden's light, and hope that the banners of the faithful soon rise against that treacherous dog, Thorm.

But as time goes on, Morfred grows increasingly distressed with the events happening in Reithwin and the ease with which people are eager to switch faiths.

- How quickly things change. The Thorms are Selûnite through and through - or so I believed. Perhaps Ketheric only converted for Melodia, and with her death - and then his daughter's - his faith died too. But to turn to Shar? It beggars belief. - Ketheric's Justiciars are growing greater in number, and more determined to rout out any traces of Selûne in Reithwin. Why do they think this town was built? One cannot rip out the foundations of a building and expect it to remain standing. - Brother and I remain the last two bastions of Our Lady of Silver in the town. A few - the trusting few - come to worship in secret by moonlit nights. Others - converts, all. Whether they truly believe, I cannot say. Impossible, isn't it?

(Don't worry, the second page is further down lol spoilers!)

Life is not going well in Reithwin, even if you're not a Selûnite. Ketheric is determined to destroy all traces of Selûne and treason of any kind. His Dark Justiciars begin tormenting citizens to reveal pockets of Selûnite resistance. He also suffers no treasonous word against him, even if the citizens in question aren't Selûnite. We see a glimpse of this and of the Justiciars' cruel influence during the questline with He Who Was and Madeline, who ratted out her friends' innocent(?) complaints about Ketheric to some Justiciars, resulting in their brutal deaths.

Eventually Morfred realizes that the Dark Justiciars are too powerful to resist and turns to Raphael, offering his soul in exchange for something to destroy the Dark Justiciar army.

- Sick of standing idle while Justiciars gain power in our humble town. What will become of us if we allow it? I met a man who was no man. Touched by a devil. Or maybe worse. But he offered me something I couldn't refuse - help. - The time is now. Ketheric's Justiciars, their stronghold in the temple below - they will be wiped out. All of them. I didn't ask how. I just want them gone. Let the Harpers have at Ketheric now. They'll make short work of him.

You can ask Morfred about this in the House of Hope, actually, where he confirms the details. I mean, he's in Raphael's house, so it's pretty obvious the he did, in fact, make a deal with him.

Infernal Mason: When tragedy came, my master fell into darkness and despair. He marshalled a great army to ruin the world and bring all into shadow. I could not let it happen. I sought out the devil Raphael and signed an infernal pact with him. He promised to destroy my master’s army, and I promised him my soul in return. The devil was true to his word. Fiends slaughtered my master’s forces, but he endured somehow, and blighted the land.

The Fiend in question here is Yurgir, who ends up crashing through Grymforge and the Gauntlet to kill all Dark Justiciars in his path. (He misses one, because Raphael is a sneaky bastard who let one get away by turning him into a swarm of rats, but I digress.) We know Yurgir caused the destruction in Grymforge, too, because of the Merregon masks and hellbeasts we find around the area, and the fact that if you pass all the checks with the Duergar mason examining the stone, he helps you piece together this narrative:

Stonemason Kith: An ancient city, hewn from the stone by the disciples of Shar, later abandoned. Untold centuries later, a new tribe revives it. Fresh walls, fresh sculptures...until a great hellbeast charges through, toppling the walls and crushing the people! Heh - that explains the infernal plate I found. Perhaps you might have use of it.

Further proof that Grymforge and the Gauntlet were once connected...somehow.

Anyway, by the time Yurgir is called in, Morfred's already been found out. Thisobald overhears him drunkenly complaining about Ketheric in the Waning Moon and informs Ketheric of his treachery. Ketheric orders a raid on the mason's guild, leaving Halfred the lone source of Selûnite resistance. It's unknown what becomes of Halfred, but considering the fact that the inn was still taking guests (like Art Cullagh) and housing the Harpers right before the shadow curse descended (there's a shadow memory of a Harper toasting his comrades in Last Light right before the battle with Ketheric long ago), it's likely he's a victim of the curse and not Justiciar brutality.

I’m not sure which is worse, honestly.

It's unclear when Morfred dies, though he admits to witnessing the first part of the shadow curse (i.e., "...but he endured somehow, and blighted the land"). But Morfred's deal coincides in some ways with the arrival of the Harpers and druids. I think he probably makes the deal with Raphael before the Harpers officially march against Ketheric and then gets caught after he hears rumors of the Harpers.

Raphael makes good on his deal around the same the Harpers arrive, perhaps a little afterward. This means Yurgir's slaughter of Justiciars in the Underdark must happen concurrently with the battle happening topside between Ketheric's army and the Harpers/druids, meaning Ketheric is losing his army on two fronts at the same time. Victory seems assured for the Harpers and druids, but of course we know now that Ketheric had a way of cheating death already in place.

He had already imprisoned the Nightsong in a Shadowfell soul cage.

Again, we’re not sure exactly when this happens, but it’s after Isobel dies and before the shadow curse, which unleashes with Ketheric’s supposed death in the battle against the Harpers and druids. However, Aylin herself says that Ketheric and Balthazar lured her into the Shadowfell under the pretense of saving an innocent.

Dame Aylin: He and his loathsome advisor Balthazar lured me into the Shadowfell, claimed they'd found someone in need of my aid. There they trapped me in their infernal cage. I was killed, murdered, made dead, over and over and over by Justiciars of every make and kind. I was reborn, for it is my nature. And Ketheric fed upon my immortality all the while.

This makes me think that Aylin wasn’t aware of Ketheric’s conversion yet, so it must have been very soon after, because otherwise, why would she trust a known Sharran telling her to enter the Shadowfell, the realm that is entirely under Shar’s control? I also suspect Ketheric built (or renovated) the Gauntlet around Aylin after her capture, perhaps at the behest of Shar due to their collaboration in making up new Justiciar teachings, or perhaps out of a sick, vengeful desire to see Aylin tormented for daring to love his daughter.

If this is true, then there’s a very real chance that Ketheric was unkillable before he truly started to torment Reithwin town, and well before the Harpers stepped in to take him down.

Anyway we at least know that Ketheric trapped Aylin in the Shadowfell before the big battle against the Harpers because a) both Isobel and Aylin talk about her being there for a century and b) because Ketheric is already using her invulnerability to survive assassination attempts on his life prior to or during the actual battle against him and his army:

23 Elient The Harpers came too close - they poisoned Father Ketheric himself, yet he professes no ill effects. Malus insists it a fluke. Doctor he may be, but he is no less a fool for it: Father has achieved that of which I can only dream: immortality. I have long suspected. I can guess Father's purpose, but I cannot fathom the means.

This brings us to the eve of the battle itself. But this post is already hella long, so keep an eye out for part 2, all about the Harper and druid battle against Ketheric!

[stromuprisahat]

... Sansa could not take her eyes off the third man [Ilyn Payne]. He seemed to feel the weight of her gaze. Slowly he turned his head. Lady growled. A terror as overwhelming as anything Sansa Stark had ever felt filled her suddenly. She stepped backward and bumped into someone. Strong hands grasped her by the shoulders, and for a moment Sansa thought it was her father, but when she turned, it was the burned face of Sandor Clegane looking down at her, his mouth twisted in a terrible mockery of a smile. “You are shaking, girl,” he said, his voice rasping. “Do I frighten you so much?” He did, and had since she had first laid eyes on the ruin that fire had made of his face, though it seemed to her now that he was not half so terrifying as the other. Still, Sansa wrenched away from him, and the Hound laughed, and Lady moved between them, rumbling a warning. Sansa dropped to her knees to wrap her arms around the wolf. They were all gathered around gaping, she could feel their eyes on her, and here and there she heard muttered comments and titters of laughter.

A Game of Thrones- Chapter 15 (George R. R. Martin)

delusional shipper voice: A meet-cute!

[atopvisenyashill]

connections between naerys and sansa?

There’s plenty! She’s very much in a Naerys/Aegon scenario in ASOS & ACOK, where she has no ability to leave the capital, no one doing anything meaningful to protect her, and a King that is obsessed with sexually humiliating her. There’s a lot of romanticism and chivalry surrounding her character and how other people react to her character, the same as Naerys.

But also, Sansa makes the comparisons to Naerys herself, and she does it before she realizes what kind of person Joffrey is! In fact, it starts with her very first chapter where she compares Joffrey interrupting Ilyn Payne & Sandor Clegane to Aemon demanding a trial by combat against Ser Morgil:

A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders.

She will compare Joffrey to Aemon and herself to Naerys again later, to Ned:

"Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."

(lowkey she’s so fucking funny for that “i only just now remembered” comment, idk how ned kept a straight face for it)

She then uses Aemon (and the Cargyll twins) to make Tommen feel better and dunk on Joffrey:

Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry." "Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound." "Be quiet, or I'll have Ser Meryn give you a mortal wound," Joffrey told his betrothed.

Again, there’s a focus on Aemon’s romantic relationship with Naerys because that's what appeals to Sansa. But when people say "Sansa sees the world through stories" it's not just about how she romanticizes or idolizes knighthood, nobility, and chivalry - she thinks through information by comparing it with similar historical events or stories and analyzing it. She clearly sees the problem with Loras protecting Margaery from Joffrey by comparing him to the Toynes instead of Aemon, and Joffrey (once again) to Aegon the Unworthy:

She is so brave, Sansa thought, galloping after her . . . and yet, her doubts still gnawed at her. Ser Loras was a great knight, all agreed. But Joffrey had other Kingsguard, and gold cloaks and red cloaks besides, and when he was older he would command armies of his own. Aegon the Unworthy had never harmed Queen Naerys, perhaps for fear of their brother the Dragonknight . . . but when another of his Kingsguard fell in love with one of his mistresses, the king had taken both their heads. Ser Loras is a Tyrell, Sansa reminded herself. That other knight was only a Toyne. His brothers had no armies, no way to avenge him but with swords. Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself for a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does . . . The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red.

She’s also not wrong in her assessment here because the Tyrells (my guess is Garlan and Olenna) are so worried about this outcome they just murder Joffrey and install Tommen; like Bethany Bracken, Margaery is groomed (with all the implications that are included in such a loaded term) to be sexually available to the King because her father wants power and doesn't care if his daughter is sexually abused to get it. Like Terrance Toyne, Loras is considered attractive, skilled, and has several brothers more than willing to start a war to avenge his death. I think it's incredibly intuitive that Sansa ultimately comes to the same conclusion as two seasoned political players like (presumably) Olenna and Garlan come to, and she makes this judgement call very quickly!

And Sansa also hits on a lot of (correct) similarities when she makes these comparisons between Joffrey's court and Aegon the Unworthy's court; Aegon and Joffrey both have wild, violent temperaments while being notoriously difficult to control. It’s not just Naerys that attempts to get Aegon to stop marital raping her; Aemon’s useless tears aside, Viserys does do the bare minimum here in sending Aegon away so Naerys can heal from her miscarriages, Daeron got shitty with the Brackens about being tacky over Naerys' marital rape and ill health, Baelor fasts himself to death over Naerys’ miscarriages, etc etc. All of the “authority figures” around Aegon think his behavior is wrong but Aegon proves stubbornly difficult to control or kill. Joffrey falls along these same lines - Cersei, Robert, Tyrion, Tywin, and even Varys all struggle to get some control over Joffrey but like Aegon, he knows once he’s of age and has that crown he doesn’t have to answer for SHIT and stubbornly resists every attempt to curb his behavior. Joffrey is a hell scenario waiting to happen because like Aegon, he’s petty and petulant enough to pull the stunts Aegon pulls like pitting his true born kids against his bastard born ones and causing another violent succession crisis. I say this as like, the ultimate Joffrey Apologist here, lmaooo, he has reasons for being a nasty piece of shit but the Tyrells are right to look at him and go “oh that’s trouble” because he is a ticking time bomb. And the crazy thing is, it’s not just Sansa who compares Joffrey to Aegon the Unworthy:

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it." Sansa shook her head. "He won't." "He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no."

Joffrey makes the comparison himself. He's a piece of work just like his hero and he is directly threatening to rape Sansa the same way Aegon raped Naerys and poor Bethany Bracken. He is directly admitting he is "unworthy" and practically daring all of KL to overthrow him for it because he thinks they'll blink before he does (and he is unfortunately deadly wrong in this assumption).

And when you extrapolate out from there, you can see other, similar patterns between Naerys' life and Sansa's, beyond the Joffrey-Aegon, Margaery-Bethany, Loras-Terrance, and Sansa-Naerys parallels. Tyrion himself aspires to be a sort of Viserys II type player (see: "It should have been called the Lives of Five Kings" rant he gives to Oberyn); a power behind the throne directing his crazy family to do what's right or smart or proper. There's an interesting echo in Viserys taking direct action in sending Aegon away from Naerys and Tyrion stopping Joffrey in his assault of Sansa - like Viserys, he can see the monster in the king he is raising, makes an attempt to stop it, but fails because he underestimates just how dangerous and erratic his little king has become. Like Viserys, Tyrion is suspected of poisoning his own nephew in an attempt to get closer to power and the throne (and Viserys, like Tyrion, is probably innocent - the sort of fasting that Baelor was doing regularly is hard on the body!).

I don't think any of this is coincidental or accidental either, because of that haunting scene where Joffrey destroys the gift Tyrion got him. Here's the scene, excuse the wall of text, but it's important:

He plays the gracious king today. Joffrey could be gallant when it suited him, Sansa knew, but it seemed to suit him less and less. Indeed, all his courtesy vanished at once when Tyrion presented him with their own gift: a huge old book called Lives of Four Kings, bound in leather and gorgeously illuminated. The king leafed through it with no interest. "And what is this, Uncle?" A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read. "Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good," her small husband answered. "A book every king should read, Your Grace," said Ser Kevan. “My father had no time for books.” Joffrey shoved the tome across the table. “If you read less, Uncle Imp, perhaps Lady Sansa would have a baby in her belly by now.” He laughed … and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. “Don’t be sad, Sansa, once I’ve gotten Queen Margaery with child I’ll visit your bedchamber and show my little uncle how it’s done.” Sansa reddened. She glanced nervously at Tyrion, afraid of what he might say. This could turn as nasty as the bedding had at their own feast. But for once the dwarf filled his mouth with wine instead of words... [Joffrey gets a Valyrian sword and figures out a name for it, Widow's Wail, it's a few pages, it's not relevant here] Joffrey brought Widow’s Wail down in a savage two-handed slice, onto the book that Tyrion had given him. The heavy leather cover parted at a stroke. “Sharp! I told you, I am no stranger to Valyrian steel.” It took him half a dozen further cuts to hack the thick tome apart, and the boy was breathless by the time he was done. Sansa could feel her husband struggling with his fury as Ser Osmund Kettleblack shouted, “I pray you never turn that wicked edge on me, sire.” “See that you never give me cause, ser.” Joffrey flicked a chunk of Lives of Four Kings off the table at swordpoint, then slid Widow’s Wail back into its scabbard. “Your Grace,” Ser Garlan Tyrell said. “Perhaps you did not know. In all of Westeros there were but four copies of that book illuminated in Kaeth’s own hand.” “Now there are three.” Joffrey undid his old swordbelt to don his new one. “You and Lady Sansa owe me a better present, Uncle Imp. This one is all chopped to pieces.”

God I love that passage so much. There's a lot there but what's relevant is a) both Oberyn and Garlan are trying to get a measure of who Joffrey is, and have some child murdering plans potentially in the works during this scene. Watching Joffrey destroy a priceless tome of history given as a well thought, well meant, incredibly generous (and pointed) gift from his uncle is more than enough proof for either man to decide Joffrey is not worth the headache, and please note Garlan is the only person to call Joffrey out to his face, and Oberyn is a few pages later the only person to acknowledge this was a fantastic and kind gift from Tyrion that Joffrey reacted absolutely deranged towards for no reason. and b) Tyrion is almost literally saying to Joffrey "I can be your Viserys, I can make it so you're remembered as a great king the way Daeron II or Baelor are, or a great warrior like Daeron I, but you have to understand the reason why I'm worried about your behavior" and Joffrey does the most destructive, unworthy thing he can possibly do - he quite literally destroys priceless, useful historical knowledge and wisdom with his bare hands, in favor of senseless, petulant violence. As Catelyn would say, Joffrey's real bride is not Margaery, but the war he's fighting and the crown on his head.

All of this to say - there's a lot of parallels between Sansa's situation in KL and Naery's life and these parallels are drawn not only by Sansa herself, but also by several people around her. However, I hope for better things for Sansa than what poor Naerys got - I hope for an Aemon the Dragonknight that will do more than just cry while she's raped, but actually step into that room and defend her, or else give her the power to defend herself. Despite the long wait for The Winds of Winter, I also think it's likely we will get some sort of Dragonknight, devoted sworn sword for Sansa and this person will help protect her, and Sansa will have agency that Naerys could only ever dream of.

[warsofasoiaf]

Do you think it’s possible that Aerys was right about Tywin all along, that Tywin was not driven into opposition by Aerys’ madness, but rather Aerys became paranoid because he perceived Tywin was actually motivated by his own ego and lust for power, rather than any loyalty or good faith service to king and country?

A. Aerys’ real madness starts after Duskendale, which seems like Tywin might have provoked.  He seems like he really was just kind of temperamentally extreme in his early days, and years of dealing with Tywin plus the trauma of his captivity pushed him over the edge.  And most of the reports on his early behavior is filtered through characters with a pro-Lannister perspective, or hindsight confirmation bias, where they know how he ended up and thus recall ordinary displays of emotion or mistakes as early symptoms of madness. 

B. Most of Tywin’s credited actions as Hand seem to be just basically doing the job, not exactly any sort of heroic civic virtue.  The one apparently generous, not obviously self-interested, act of Tywin was paying off the Braavosi loans, but he didn’t give the crown the cash to meet its debts, he publicly took the debt himself, getting the glory & credit for patriotism and whatnot.  He receives Steffon, “his” boyhood “friend” & cousin to the king, on the Iron Throne. That feels like a power move to me. 

C. We see how he stage-manages the celebration of the crown’s victory at Blackwater, and it’s all about him, not polishing Joffrey’s image, or putting him forward as the Young Lion who defeated his evil uncle.  Tywin does not come in like a subject or supplicant or leal servant of the Iron Throne, he rides in, fully armored, as a conqueror, and Joffrey comes down to greet him.  Great for Tywin’s image, less great of a start for the reign of his grandson, or effacing the early PR blunders. I can’t imagine he was more generous to the king who was no kin of his. 

What if Ilyn Payne was basically just repeating the Lannister party line? Westermen don’t seem to act on their own post-Castamere, but Tywin likes sending proxies ahead of him, whether Kevan in council or Tyrion at court, or Gregor & Lorch in battle.  Maybe Ilyn Payne and others were actually voicing the notion that Tywin was actively promoting, that he was the one ruling in truth and Aerys was just his Merovingian King?  It seems to me that, per Varys’ riddle, getting people to believe you, and not the king, are the power behind the throne is a great way to make that perception the reality. And Aerys sees what is going on, isn’t really subtle or skilled at image stuff, and thus is poorly equipped to fight Tywin’s campaign effectively, so he lashes out with things like cutting out tongues and calling him a servant when rejecting a marriage proposal to put him in his place, and undermining his policies to make people accept that he is truly ruling. Tywin gets pissed, because how dare he not appreciate how awesome Tywin is, and Brer Rabbits him into a vulnerable position in Duskendale, from which the only effort he makes to save his king and supposed friend is to send in a lone, 40-year-old knight, while not even bothering to hide his preference for a young, presumably weaker, successor. 

I feel like if we read between the lines, and triangulate with Tywin’s entire life history which seems utterly lacking in indications of friendship, loyalty or patriotism, Aerys’ story is not just a random lunatic happening to be on the throne, but rather another example of how Tywin’s toxic approach to political pursuits blights the realm and causes misery.

What do you think of this theory?  I am asking in this format instead of the AMA for the, I think obvious, issue of character limits. Thank you.

I think there’s no character limit anymore, although that might be a settings thing.

Anyway, while I do think that’s a decent enough theory, I don’t think it sufficiently provable, for three reasons.

For one, Aerys was always prone to delusions and flights of fancy, even well before Tywin comes into the picture. While they were most often harmless, it could mean that negative experiences, like Duskendale, could set him off regardless of whether or not Tywin is involved.

For two, self-interest and house advancement is par for the course when it comes to court appointments. Why should we expect Tywin to act differently, and why shouldn’t we expect Aerys to act with irrationality toward any other person?

For three, I offer in contrast Tywin’s excellent handling and manipulation of the mountain clans in AGOT. So Tywin can clearly manipulate a situation and read it appropriately, particularly earlier on in the narrative where some of the more established character traits are not set (or contrarily, things that get corrected later on after further research such as Tyrion’s acrobatic ability). The Mad King was set up as such in the first book, which might cleave closer to Tywin’s first book framing than his second.

I think what you’ve said here enriches the discourse, certainly, but I don’t think it has enough evidence to be more likely than the interpretation that Aerys’s mental instability was not caused by Tywin’s toxic political monomania. But thank you for the contribution, it is quite good, Cannoli.

-SLAL 

[butterflies-dragons]

Hi! What are your favourite quotes/moments that showcase Sansa’s romanticism? 😊

Here we go:

Alone and humiliated, Sansa took the long way back to the inn, where she knew Septa Mordane would be waiting. Lady padded quietly by her side. She was almost in tears. All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs. Why couldn't Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

~~~

"Joffrey, perhaps you would be so kind as to entertain our guest today." "It would be my pleasure, Mother," Joffrey said very formally. He took her by the arm and led her away from the wheelhouse, and Sansa's spirits took flight. A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders. The touch of Joffrey's hand on her sleeve made her heart beat faster. "What would you like to do?" —A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

~~~

Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it all took Sansa's breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind … and the knights themselves, the knights most of all. "It is better than the songs," she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling. They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

~~~

To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was a mass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

~~~

Lord Baelish stroked his little pointed beard and said, "Nothing? Tell me, child, why would you have sent Ser Loras?" Sansa had no choice but to explain about heroes and monsters. The king's councillor smiled. "Well, those are not the reasons I'd have given, but …" He had touched her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the line of a cheekbone. "Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow." Sansa did not feel like telling all that to Jeyne, however; it made her uneasy just to think back on it. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

~~~

"Who cares about your stupid dancing master?" Sansa flared. "Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies." —A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

~~~

Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters … but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

~~~

"Better if we are never seen together." Nodding, Sansa took a step . . . then spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. "My Florian," she whispered. "The gods heard my prayer." She flew along the river walk, past the small kitchen, and through the pig yard, her hurried footsteps lost beneath the squealing of the hogs in their pens. Home, she thought, home, he is going to take me home, he'll keep me safe, my Florian. The songs about Florian and Jonquil were her very favorites. Florian was homely too, though not so old. —A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

~~~

"I'm honest. It's the world that's awful. Now fly away, little bird, I'm sick of you peeping at me." Wordless, she fled. She was afraid of Sandor Clegane . . . and yet, some part of her wished that Ser Dontos had a little of the Hound's ferocity. There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can't be lies. That night Sansa dreamed of the riot again. The mob surged around her, shrieking, a maddened beast with a thousand faces. Everywhere she turned she saw faces twisted into monstrous inhuman masks. She wept and told them she had never done them hurt, yet they dragged her from her horse all the same. "No," she cried, "no, please, don't, don't," but no one paid her any heed. She shouted for Ser Dontos, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, for gallant Ser Loras who had given her a red rose once, but none of them came. She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian and Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but no one heard. Women swarmed over her like weasels, pinching her legs and kicking her in the belly, and someone hit her in the face and she felt her teeth shatter. Then she saw the bright glimmer of steel. The knife plunged into her belly and tore and tore and tore, until there was nothing left of her down there but shiny wet ribbons. —A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

~~~

Ser Dontos disappeared. She could hear him huffing and puffing as he began the descent. Sansa listened to the tolling of the bell, counting each ring. At ten, gingerly, she eased herself over the edge of the cliff, poking with her toes until they found a place to rest. The castle walls loomed large above her, and for a moment she wanted nothing so much as to pull herself up and run back to her warm rooms in the Kitchen Keep. Be brave, she told herself. Be brave, like a lady��in a song. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

~~~

Her maid rolled herself more tightly in her blanket as the snow began to drift in the window. Sansa eased open the door, and made her way down the winding stair. When she opened the door to the garden, it was so lovely that she held her breath, unwilling to disturb such perfect beauty. The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. All color had fled the world outside. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same. Her boots tore ankle-deep holes into the smooth white surface of the snow, yet made no sound. Sansa drifted past frosted shrubs and thin dark trees, and wondered if she were still dreaming. Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams. When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

~~~

Alayne took Robert's gloved hand in her own to stop his shaking. "Sweetrobin," she said, "I'm scared. Hold my hand, and help me get across. I know you're not afraid." He looked at her, his pupils small dark pinpricks in eyes as big and white as eggs. "I'm not?" "Not you. You're my winged knight, Ser Sweetrobin." "The Winged Knight could fly," Robert whispered. "Higher than the mountains." She gave his hand a squeeze. Lady Myranda had joined them by the spire. "He could," she echoed, when she saw what was happening. "Ser Sweetrobin," Lord Robert said, and Alayne knew that she dare not wait for Mya to return. She helped the boy dismount, and hand in hand they walked out onto the bare stone saddle, their cloaks snapping and flapping behind them. All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains. —A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

~~~

It was clever. The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights? She had thought one night, after Sweetrobin had finally drifted off to sleep. His own Kingsguard, to keep him safe and make him brave. And no sooner did she tell Petyr her idea than he went out and made it happen. He will want to be there to greet Ser Harrold. Where could he have gone? —The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

~~~

Thanks for your message ❤️

[ilynpilled]

the thing about the jaq/arya post is that it showcases what shipping brain does to a mf. like it is so utterly nonsensical and deranged and it is creating a narrative out of thin air solely for a ship. like how do u even get to this point. y cant u just let ur crack remain crack like

[melrosing]

Brienne can should and must be the one to take up the mantle of teaching Jaime to fight again in twow imo!!! like following the whole thing w Ilyn Payne where Jaime reckons w the worst of himself, in twow I think he comes out the other side and it’s another thing where Jaime and Brienne are constantly learning from each others’ experiences and example. Also it would be hot

[lavenderfluorite14]

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 3: Kiss

Summary: Astarion sets some boundaries, then drinks his fill.

Chapter Warnings: 18+, Explicit Content, Blood Drinking, Brief Somnophilia, Masturbation.

Full tag list on AO3. Chapter 1. Chapter 2.

A/N: Happy Patch 6 Update Eve! Also Happy Valentine’s Day, I love everyone who has clicked on this fic so I’m updating early. Please enjoy some Astarion self-love smut. ❤️‍🔥

The next morning Tav emerged from her tent well rested and alert. She made her morning rounds as usual, but each time Astarion thought she was making her way over to him Tav would instead veer away, seemingly captivated by some other distraction. Was she ignoring him? Was Tav going to leave him at camp with the other rejects while she adventured with her favorites? His uncharacteristic moment of shyness last night was already costing him. When Tav finally made her way over to him he slipped on his silkiest smirk. “My darling,” he immediately begins, “last night you were positively divine-"

“Wait, Astarion,” Tav interrupts. He stops, his monologue dead on his lips.

“I’m sorry for overstepping last night. I know you only wanted my blood.” Astarion blinks owlishly at her. She was apologizing to him. He could work with this. “For what it’s worth, I’m very disgusted with myself. But that doesn’t excuse my-”

“Oh, it’s not your fault that I’m so irresistible.” Astarion waves his hand. “I just wanted to make sure that you were alright,” he insists. Tav reddens, her blood blooming beautifully in her cheeks. 

“I’m alright, Astarion,” Her fingers brush the amulet, which glitters against her throat. “This was a really thoughtful gift.” His stomach does a weird little flip-flop that he doesn’t understand. He knew she’d like it, that’s why he gave it to her. It benefits him.

“I’m so delighted,” he says. It’s not entirely a lie and a small frisson of fear coils at the base of his spine. 

“But if you are uncomfortable with our arrangement, we can make some very simple adjustments.” He cocks an eyebrow playfully. “We can do this the traditional way. I’ll come to you at night after you are soundly asleep in your bedroll. ” 

Tav shifts uneasily. “But are you sure-"

“And next time, I’ll make sure I’m quiet,” Astarion leans into her, invading her space. “I’ll take just enough to keep me sated,” he lowers his tone suggestively, “and just enough to keep you wishing for more.” Tav swallows at his innuendo, but she keeps her voice even. 

“Whatever you are comfortable with, Astarion.”

“I promise, I am very, very comfortable,” Astarion lies. Now, shall we begin the day? These goblins won’t kill themselves.” 

~

The blighted village was a depressing eyesore, but a small treasure trove of resources lay hidden behind its crumbling walls. Astarion could have wept when they discovered a bathtub on the upper floor of an apothecary. The alchemist who had lived there, Ilyn Toth, had been quite well-stocked. On the first floor they found all kinds of herbs, potions, and trinkets. Astarion was raiding a wine rack when Karlach called out to them: “Oi guys! There’s a hatch over here! Bet there’s even more stuff in the basement.”

More potions, more books, more trinkets. Karlach even took a painting off the wall at Tav’s urging. And then Astarion noticed a lever peaking out from behind a stack of boxes. Tav grabbed it and one of the many bookcases slid aside with an ominous creak, revealing a dank, wet passageway that wound its way deep into the earth. Obviously Tav wanted to check it out.

Tav had been cordial, if perhaps a little distant, since the morning. He thought that perhaps she was trying to give him space. He supposed it was cute, if a little silly. She wouldn’t feel so bad about wanting to use him if she knew even a few of the things he had done. But he could easily reel her in again. In the warm light of day his previous objections seemed childish and maudlin.

He was somewhat surprised that she had even agreed to night time feedings. “The Kiss” was a powerful relaxant, a brilliant adaptation for a devious nocturnal predator. To some, it was even an aphrodisiac. Why allow him to bite her at all if she couldn’t enjoy the effects? She must truly be a deviant. Nonetheless, this was still a mutually beneficial transaction. Astarion had gotten what he wanted. Why wasn’t he satisfied? 

The passageway snaked its way into a glittering cave where half a dozen coffins moldered in the gloom. Karlach immediately pried one open and Tav discovered a scroll within its depths, a curious spell that allowed the caster to summon a quasit. She handed it to Wyll, who began studying it. Soon a foul-mouthed, gibbering little demon was trailing behind them, babbling on about some book with terrible magic inside. Astarion had wanted to name her Basket, but Wyll wanted to keep her previous name: Shovel. 

Turns out, the good doctor had been dabbling in powerful necromantic magic beneath his quaint little shop. Useful necromantic magic. And it seemed like he had left in a hurry: books and notes were scattered all over his laboratory, bones and viscera littered the floor, and a body was unceremoniously dumped across a dirty operating theater. Tav immediately buried herself in the necromancer’s notes while Wyll and Karlach continued scavenging. Astarion’s eye was drawn to a curious cell embedded in the rock, locked behind a barred door. He jimmied the locks and traps easily, stepping carefully into the cramped room. 

Inside the cell on an otherwise barren table lay one of the most menacing books that Astarion had ever seen. It had been bound in a suspicious and unidentifiable leather, and from its cover a wretched face emerged in a silent scream. There must be something good inside.

“This journal says that there was a key of some kind that went missing? And then days later Toth’s apprentice also disappeared?” Tav said. 

“Very suspicious,” Karlach murmured. Astarion grinned.  Necromancy meant control of the dead. Control of the undead. Perhaps even a spell or two for vampire lords. 

“Then what are we sitting around for, darlings?”

~

That meddling boy must have been the dumbest apprentice in all of Faerûn. Turns out, stealing the key to an ominous necromantic tome meant chucking it down a well and into an infestation of venomous spiders. Astarion had laughed when Karlach tripped over the enwebbed body of the apprentice. Serves that fool right.

It was so faint that Astarion almost missed it. Deep in the darkness of the well a faint purple light pulsed and swirled. Kicking aside a spider carcass, Astarion plucked the gem from the grimy cave floor. Its eerie glow cast a strange pall over their faces. “I think that’s it,” Tav said, reaching out for the amethyst. Their fingers brushed and despite their thick gloves and the sweaty exertion from battle, Astarion felt a spark of electricity pass between them. Tav had been particularly vicious today, blinding and paralyzing spiders with barely a word. Then he would strike while they were stunned, piercing them with his sharp blades. They’d made a good team. He couldn’t help running his eyes along her throat and down her curves as he relinquished the jewel to her. Tav briefly polished the stone against the front of her jerkin and popped it into the front of the strange book, which began to glow with a sickly violet light. This was an evil book. A powerful book.

“Please don’t open the creepy book,” Karlach pleaded.

“That’s evil magic. We must destroy it,” Wyll insisted.

“And it looks awfully heavy. Why don’t you let me carry that for you?” Astarion put on his best pout, his eyes glittering in the lowlight. Tav turned towards him. “On one condition,” She said. Astarion stiffened. “Will you tell me what’s inside it when you are done?” Astarion smiled.

“I’ll tell you every last sordid detail, my dear.”

~

Camp was quiet that night. Gale asked many questions about the new book and even had the audacity to ask Astarion if he could have it instead. “Absolutely not. It is mine,” Astarion spat. Gale opened his mouth to protest but Astarion quickly added: “Tav said so.” Confusion and hurt both passed over Gale’s face and Astarion turned on his heel and left, clutching his dark prize tightly. 

Tav had really given him the clearly evil necromantic book. First her blood, and now a powerful magical artifact that could possibly empower him against his master. He hasn’t even slept with her yet and his little investment was already paying off. 

He settled into his tent, mentally preparing himself to read. He pulled a tufted chair up to the small table he had decided to use as a desk, both of which were stolen from the necromancer’s basement. Somehow, this felt familiar. It wasn’t concrete but he had a vague feeling, a memory in his body, of poring over thick, difficult to read tomes until the dense passages made sense or he made them make sense. He shrugged the feeling away: he wasn’t a magistrate anymore.

Astarion stared at the grim face on the cover of the book with disdain. It was so hideous. Astarion flipped open the heavy cover and a delicious wave of dark energy immediately surged through him. It felt energizing, powerful. He felt deep in his bones that he was on the right path, that this book could tell him exactly what he wanted to know. As he continued reading, the glyphs began to shift and swirl before his eyes. Magic rippled through the pages, through his fingers, through his body. Voices came to him, whispering terrible longings and secrets of every shape and size. The cacophony filled him so completely that his head began to throb with it.

Kill them. Kill them all. 

Dark claws of magic pulled at his mind, trying to erode his will and drag him under its control. “No, I won’t kill them.” Astarion ground out as he thrashed in his chair, resisting the dreadful pull with everything he had. Well, maybe Karlach, he thought. Even in the grips of fell magic, he remembered how she had hoisted Tav up into her arms, effortlessly carrying her back to camp yesterday. 

Look. Away.

Astarion mustered up every last ounce of his will, successfully slamming the book closed with a sickening thud. Free of the dark compulsions, he slumped forward in his chair. He wouldn’t kill Karlach. Karlach was too useful. And fun.

“Good book?” A voice cut through his tired thoughts like a hot knife and he bolted upright. Whirling in his seat, he saw Tav hovering at the entrance of his tent. He relaxed, somewhat. “Hello,” he said sheepishly. He gestured for her to come inside.

“Slow going, I take it?” Tav said, coming around his desk to peer at the book. “You could say that. It’s protected by vengeful spirits,” Astarion sighed. “They make it impossible to read the damn thing without triggering their unholy yammering.”

“I could tell. Are you alright?” Tav asked. Astarion nodded, hand waving her concern away. She hopped up on his desk and Astarion leaned back in his chair, turning to face her. “What do you think they are guarding?” she asked, kicking her feet as she perched. “It’s clearly something powerful, I can feel it,” Astarion gushed excitedly. “Anything could be in there. Ways to speak to the dead, control the dead. Bring the dead back to life. A way to free myself from Cazador could even be in there.” He looked up at her, saw the confusion on her face and internally smacked himself. Of course she doesn’t know who Cazador is. “Sorry, did you want something?” He snapped. 

“Who is Cazador?” Tav asks innocently. He knows it’s innocent. He knows she’s just curious. Knowing her, she will probably think she can help.

“Cazador is none of your business,” Astarion spits. Tav stops kicking her feet. She slides off his desk, landing onto the dirt floor with a graceful plop.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she says diplomatically, but Astarion can tell she is disappointed. He just stares at her. She thinks she can handle it. But she’d hate him if she knew. She wouldn’t be so sweet to him if he told her. “I just came to tell you that you could feed on me again tonight. If you wanted.”  Surprise washes over Astarion at this. Why is she being so nice to him? 

He will have to tell her something eventually. But he doesn’t want to crush this tentative thing they have yet with his mess. Astarion slips on his mask, the face he knows Tav actually wants to see, and purrs:

“Then I’ll see you later, you sweet, generous thing.” 

Tav lingers for another moment, sensing that she is dismissed, but clearly not wanting to leave. “Alright. Good night, Astarion. Get some rest if you can.” She leaves him to his bitter, lonely thoughts, just like he wanted. 

~

Hours later, Astarion slips eagerly into Tav’s tent. He had waited impatiently until he felt her heartbeat settle into the steady rhythm of sleep. Now she lay before him like a fairytale princess waiting for true love’s kiss from a besotted prince. Such a pretty picture. It was almost a shame that she would get him instead. 

He had denied her his body, taken her treasure, snapped at her, and told her no, yet she was still letting him drink her blood. He should feel guilty, especially after their earlier exchange, but it is in a vampire’s nature to take. And it is in her nature to give. How kind. How dumb. How lucky for him. After 200 years of starvation, slavery, and degradation he was going to seize every gift he received, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Astarion laid carefully down beside her. His hand drifted over her cheek, ghosting over her beautiful face. Leaning over her, he took a deep breath in through his nose, savoring the sweet smell of her hair, the savory notes of her skin. She was so warm up close. And now he had her all to himself.

His fangs sliced through her skin, hitting their sanguine mark with ease. He drank from her languidly, savoring each gush of blood that filled his mouth. Astarion felt some of it dribble down his chin, pooling in a seductive swirl along Tav’s throat. His cock twitched to life, slowly hardening with each mouthful of hot blood. When he was full enough he withdrew to admire her, yet again.

Tav hadn’t stirred at all. She lay peacefully asleep, completely undisturbed by his ministrations. Her expression was soft, relaxed in repose. She was completely unaware of the monster in her tent. 

He returned dutifully to her neck, resuming his feast. But in between sips he pressed experimental kisses to her neck, unable to fully resist. Gods, she was gorgeous. And she was willingly letting him do this to her. She was clearly a fool. But she was his fool. Maybe she really would understand. He could never tell her everything, but maybe he could tell her certain things. He shuddered against her, dragging his lithe body against her in one tantalizingly slow motion.

Licking his lips clean of any blood, he laid a chaste kiss on her plush lips. He wanted to really kiss her, wanted to press his lips to hers and feel her open beneath him, ready to be taken. The memory of their previous kiss tormented him, made him achingly hard and filled him with stupid ideas that led nowhere. 

Besides, this little display was a waste. Tav wasn’t awake to enjoy it, so what was the point. This won him no favors. But you like it, he thought. This brings you pleasure. He wanted to run as far away as he could and never come back. He wanted to bury himself completely between her legs. 

He cleaned her up slowly. Tenderly, his traitorous mind supplied. He drew his tongue gently over her neck, lapping up any stray rivulets of blood. When he was done he pressed one final kiss to her neck, right over his bite.

~

Back in his tent Astarion flopped down into his nest of pillows, his deft fingers immediately grasping for the laces of his trousers. His neglected cock throbbed with a deep, insistent need that he could no longer ignore. He often had to make himself hard in order to perform for Cazador’s victims, but it had been an age since he had experienced an honest bodily reaction to someone. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. He was glad he was alone. 

Initially he sets a brutal rhythm, just trying to get this over with. He strokes himself roughly from base to tip, hurtling himself towards oblivion. His mind drifts back to Tav and he realizes, as a pearl of precum beads on his tip, that he doesn’t actually want to rush this. He forces his hand to slow to a torturous pace, twisting his head on the upstroke in a way that pulls a breathy gasp from him. He imagines he is back in Tav’s tent, teeth buried in her throat and body settled firmly over hers. 

Tav sleepily stirs beneath him, a moan on her lips. She presses herself upwards and begs him for more. “Please, Astarion.” He sinks his fangs deeper into her and she cries out sweetly, grinding herself desperately against his hard length like she did the other night. She’s at his mercy, overcome by pain and pleasure that only he can give her. 

In his tent, heat pools in his abdomen and he finally allows himself to buck up greedily into his fist. In the fantasy, she spreads her legs for him and he slides easily into her, fucking her deeply, the taste of her blood still on his tongue. He licks his teeth, searching for any bloody remnants that might still be in his mouth. They are long gone but their ghost remains, faint but still ambrosial, and he moans with want as he fucks his fist faster. He takes her selfishly, pounding into her very core with unapologetic need. She clenches around him, shuddering on the brink of a powerful orgasm. She wants him, all of him. “Yes! Please, Astarion!”

His own climax hits him hard and fast, erupting all over his hand. He sinks further into his pillows, basking in the sudden afterglow. He can’t remember the last time he came like that. He can’t remember the last time he came at all. And to the thought of something as simple as Tav wanting him. He cringes at his juvenile fantasy.

~

The next morning Astarion surreptitiously watches Tav buckle her jerkin and equip her rapier, the perfect picture of a determined, capable adventurer. Today, Tav has decided to pay that sweet old lady a visit at her house, much to Lae’Zel’s irritation. This will delay their journey to the crèche but Tav says that they can’t afford to ignore any leads that they have, no matter how small. Astarion says nothing while Tav and Lae’Zel argue. The longer they delay, the longer he’s free. Astarion decides that despite the initial hiccups, everything is unfolding according to plan. Involving himself with Tav is a good tactical decision. And if he wants it too, well, then that is just a bonus.

~

Chapter 4: Confession

[ichooseviolence]

There's a specific type of humor that I love in ASoIaF, and it's mostly sarcasm. Even characters that I absolutely loath make me laugh because the deliverance of their quips are so on point that I have to respect it. Tom of Sevenstrings, Jaime, Tyrion, Eddison Tollett, Olenna, Genna Lannister, Oberyn, Cersei, Euron, Renly, even Petyr. Dany has a couple moments that make me chuckle as well.

But I might actually add Sansa to the list, because some of her quips are perfection.. If she was in a healthy environment she would probably let loose on the sarcasm and take no survivors.

The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. "Ofttimes Ser Ilyn frightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect." "As well he should." The queen had descended from the wheelhouse. The spectators parted to make way for her. "If the wicked do not fear the King's Justice, you have put the wrong man in office." Sansa finally found her words. "Then surely you have chosen the right one, Your Grace," she said, and a gale of laughter erupted all around her. -AGoT Sansa I

"...It's almost as good as if some wolf killed your traitor brother. Maybe I'll feed him to wolves after I've caught him. Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?" "I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him." -ACoK Sansa I

"She must learn to hide her feelings better, so as not to anger Joffrey. When she heard that the Imp had sent Lord Slynt to the Wall, she had forgotten herself and said, "I hope the Others get him." The king had not been pleased." - ACoK Sansa II (this one literally took me out)

"Dontos was prattling on. "If I were still a knight, I should have to put on armor and man the walls with the rest. I ought to kiss King Joffrey's feet and thank him sweetly." "If you thanked him for making you a fool, he'd make you a knight again," Sansa said sharply." -ACoK Sansa IV

"Ser Meryn Trant held the blood bay for Joffrey to mount. Boy and horse alike wore gilded mail and enameled crimson plate, with matching golden lions on their heads. The pale sunlight flashed off the golds and reds every time Joff moved. Bright, shining, and empty, Sansa thought." -ACoK Sansa V (this one made me smirk)

"Curses are only in songs and stories." That seemed to amuse him. "Has someone made a song about Gregor Clegane dying of a poisoned spear thrust? Or about the sellsword before him, whose limbs Ser Gregor removed a joint at a time? That one took the castle from Ser Amory Lorch, who received it from Lord Tywin. A bear killed one, your dwarf the other. Lady Whent's died as well, I hear. Lothstons, Strongs, Harroways, Strongs...Harrenhal has withered every hand to touch it." "Then give it to Lord Frey." -AFfC Alayne I