#is it implied that he's the king's son or that her mother was simply nobility lol

[ndostairlyrium]

SCUSI?

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Green Wounds, Ch. 6

Alright, we’re back with Green Wounds! I gave you guys a short filler that ended on a bit of a cliffhanger last time, but I promise this’ll make up for it! At least, I hope so lol. I’m actually seriously excited for you guys to read this chapter; it’s the first thing I wrote for this story, and it’s quite possibly my favorite scene out of the whole dang thing. I really really hope I did this scene justice, but I guess I’ll find out. Also on a side note, this picture is my favorite so far lol I love it.

Now without further ado, read on and enjoy!

All manner of folk came to the baby prince’s christening, even a trio of pixies who sought to foster peace and goodwill.

The christening had been wonderful so far for all parties. Gifts had been given for the baby prince throughout the day, and at the moment a crowd of people from all over the kingdom was gathered in the throne room, dressed to their finest, while King Ace and Queen Jeanette sat on their thrones. Off to the side, on a lower platform, was a bassinet, and inside the bassinet was the baby prince himself.

He was a month old now, so it was still a bit too early to figure out where he had inherited most of his traits from, but most people who had seen him said he looked rather like his mother. He was a bit small for a normal baby, but other than that was healthy and happy. His parents had named their newborn son Eric, and Eric had spent most of the day either dozing or blinking up at the people who looked at him.

Many in the kingdom had left gifts for their new prince. But there were those who had decided to bestow gifts from outside the kingdom as well.

Tiny male voices floated into the room, and the King and Queen, as well as the crowd, looked up as three pixies flew into the throne room, dressed in pink, green, and blue. Two of them, the pink and blue pixies, seemed to be bickering, while the green pixie was looking around in fascination.

As they flew closer to the King and Queen, the green pixie’s eyes fell on the cradle, and he grinned excitedly. “Look, there’s the baby!” he said to the other two, pointing to the bassinet. “I love babies!”

“Yes, I know, Erik, but concentrate, please,” the pink one said to him. “I’m not telling you again.”

Queen Jeanette smiled welcomingly at them as they hovered in front of the thrones, while King Ace gave them a look that seemed rather… impassive.

The pink pixie, who seemed to be the leader, went first. “Greetings, Your Majesties. I am Vinnie of the Moorland Fair Folk.” He bowed to them.

The blue pixie went next, also bowing. “I’m Tommy, Your Kingship… and, Queenship.”

The green pixie bowed next. “And I’m Erik, Your Royalnesses.”

Queen Jeanette looked at him. “Forgive me, but your name is Erik?”

Erik looked rather surprised at being directly acknowledged, but after getting a gesture to reply from Vinnie he bowed his head again. “Uh, yes… ma’am. Erik with a ‘K’.”

Queen Jeanette smiled slightly. “How funny—that is the name of our son.”

The pixie now was incredibly surprised. “Really?”

“Indeed… though his name is Eric with a ‘C’.”

Erik smiled. “Huh,”

Queen Jeanette turned to her husband, who was still looking silently at the pixies. “They bring gifts for our son, I believe,”

“We do,” Tommy said, smiling eagerly. He made excited gestures with his hands. “But these are not just any old gifts. For you see, we are magic!”

“And very good with children,” Vinnie couldn’t help but add.

King Ace seemed to be considering how to reply, and for a moment the pixies wondered if he would turn them down. But then he nodded and waved his hand. “Very well. Go on.”

The pixies grinned at each other, then flew over to the bassinet. Vinnie went first, smiling down at Eric and waving his hands, sending wisps of pink magic over the baby boy. “Sweet Eric, I wish for you the gift of kindness,”

He flew to the side and let Tommy go next. Twisting blue magic cascaded over the prince. “My wish is that you will never be blue, only happy, all the days of your life,”

Last to go was Erik. He smiled eagerly and let light green magic curl around his hands. “Sweet baby, my wish for you, is that you find—”

He never finished.

A powerful gust of wind tore through the room, blowing out all the candles and making the chandeliers groan and creak as they swayed dangerously above everyone’s heads. Grey clouds rolled over the sun, dimming its cheerful light and throwing the throne room into a light shadow. The powerful wind threw some of the people off-balance, and the three pixies were forced to grip the edge of the cradle so they wouldn’t be blown away. Cries of fear went up.

Then a dark shadow appeared on the wall, and footsteps echoed through the hall along with the constant, rhythmic tap of a walking stick. The cries died down to shocked, fearful murmurs as the crowd parted to make way for the surprise guest and the inky-black cat that followed at his heels.

Despite his best efforts to stay calm, Ace’s entire face went pale. In her throne beside him, Queen Jeanette could only stare blankly, though she was looking rather intimidated. The eyes of the three pixies widened and they whispered in panicked voices, “Starchild!”

A few more steps toward the thrones, and the dark figure came into the partially-dim sunlight.

It was indeed Starchild. Compared to the humans surrounding him, the faerie was perhaps of average height. But what he lacked in stature he made up in appearance. His paper-white face, the black star over his eye, and his blood-red lips all made for an off-putting look, combined with the look of cold, mild amusement on his face, as though the fear of the humans was simply rather entertaining. He wore all black—a black jacket with silver-studded collar and cuffs over a black and silver very-low-cut vest, black leather pants, and black platform boots that raised him up a few inches, all underneath a long black cape that showed off scatterings of silver glitter when he moved. In his left hand was his black walking stick, the constant echoing taps making everyone go silent. His entire appearance gave off a sort of poise and terrifying elegance. His cold eyes, which were fixated particularly on Ace as he approached, had a gleam of sinister anticipation—he’d made the right choice in choosing to bide his time. He’d been waiting so long for this day, and right now, it felt so much better than it would have been if he had just destroyed everything at once.

Not that he planned on doing that at all, however. Oh no; he was going to make sure everything Ace had worked for his entire life would slowly and systematically crumble.

When he had neared the steps to the platform where the cradle was, he finally stopped, with one final echoing tap of his walking stick. Starchild kept the cold look of amusement on his face. “Well, well,” he said pleasantly, as though this all was simply mildly yet pleasantly surprising. He let a sinister smile creep onto his face as he glided up the steps, his cape trailing behind him and Peter following.

“What a glittering assemblage, King Ace.” His tone was clearly mocking, and the fact that he was speaking directly to Ace made Queen Jeanette’s head turn to look at her husband. Peter jumped up to sit on his shoulder, and Starchild raised a hand to idly stroke his fur as he looked around at the crowd in pretend-interest. “Royalty, nobility, the gentry, and…” He turned to see the pixies by the cradle, Vinnie trying to glare at him. His smile widened, now having a tinge of genuine amusement, and he chuckled. He’d been wondering where the three pixies had disappeared to. “How quaint,” he sneered. “Even the rabble.”

Tommy and Erik sank down slightly, lowering their gazes, while Vinnie bravely stayed where he was.

Starchild turned from them to look back at Ace, and very nearly frowned. His face was still pale, and he looked afraid… but not afraid enough.

Starchild raised his head and projected his voice so that it echoed throughout the hall. “I must say,” he kept his voice light, full of faux-concern, “I really felt quite distressed at not receiving an invitation…” he trailed off, blinking innocently at Ace, as though to imply he wanted an explanation.

Ace finally spoke. “You’re not welcome here.” His voice was curt, but too quiet to be actually threatening.

The expectant look dropped from Starchild’s face, replaced by a look reminiscent of a kicked puppy. His eyes lowered, and he let out whimpering noises, as though he were about to burst into tears.

Then the look flipped into one of cruel humor, and instead of crying, Starchild smiled and began to laugh sinisterly. “Oh dear,” he chuckled. “What an awkward situation…”

Queen Jeanette leaned forward, her face still one of fear. “But you’re not offended?” she asked Starchild, her voice sounding slightly hopeful. Despite how much he was enjoying himself, he felt a quick pang of sympathy for the woman. She couldn’t be blamed for all this, and unlike her husband, she was afraid simply because of his frightening display. It wasn’t her fault she was married to such a horribly selfish man.

But even so…

Starchild turned to her, laughing lightly. “Oh, you silly dear,” he smiled sweetly at her like she was a cute little girl, “of course not. And to show that I bear no ill will… I, too, shall bestow a gift on the child.”

At that, Ace shot to his feet, now as afraid as Starchild wanted him to be. “No! We don’t want your gift!”

Peter hissed at him, and surprisingly, it made Ace fall still as Starchild glided over to the cradle.

“Stay away from the prince!” Vinnie demanded as he neared.

Tommy and Erik flew back up again. “Yes, stay away!” Erik echoed.

Starchild smirked. How adorable. With a simple flick of his hand he sent the pixies flying across the room into a small ornate chest, the lid slamming over them and trapping them inside.

Peter jumped off his shoulder onto the cradle’s canopy, and they both looked down at the baby boy lying inside. He stared uncomprehendingly back at Starchild, making the faerie wonder if he even knew what was going on… or what was about to happen.

Starchild stared at the baby for a long moment, letting out a remarking hum. It was the ever-so-annoying conscientious part of him that was making him pause. Are you really so cruel as to curse a little baby? it whispered, sounding desperate. He’s done nothing to you. It’s Ace you want to harm. If you do this, there’s no turning back.

But then Starchild thought of his wings. His beautiful black wings, the wings he’d never thought to cherish more until he no longer could. The wings that had been ripped away by the man who told him he loved him, all so he could have some meaningless crown on his head.

Starchild lifted his hand and made a slow circular motion in the air, deep purple magic swirling around his fingers. “Listen well, all of you,” he proclaimed, his voice echoing once more. He waved his hand so that waves of the deep purple magic cascaded over the baby boy. “The prince shall indeed grow in grace and kindness… beloved by all who meet him…”

Queen Jeanette, who had stood up alongside Ace, spoke again, perhaps in an attempt to mollify him. “Th-That’s a lovely gift,”

Starchild raised his head to glance at her, then turned his eyes to Ace. Ace shook his head at him, not quite pleading, but still rather desperately. “Don’t do this,” he begged, his voice so low only Starchild could hear.

How funny; he assumed he had a say in the matter.

Starchild raised a finger and pressed it to his red lips, almost playfully. Then he turned to straighten up and step away from the cradle. This was where, to use the human phrase, the other shoe would drop. And oh, would it drop.

But as Starchild turned his head, something in the far corner of the room caught his eye.

It was a spinning wheel, pushed haphazardly into the corner, but placed in such a way that the spindle still caught some sunlight. The tip of the spindle gleamed especially brightly.

Starchild almost grinned as his plan changed. He thought his original plan had been good… but this was even better.

“But…” He stepped away from the cradle so he was in the center of the platform, and lifted his arms. Deep purple magic trailed after his hands and enveloped his body like flames as his eyes gleamed the same purple. “Before the sun sets on his sixteenth birthday, he will prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, and fall into a sleep like death! A sleep from which he will never awaken!”

A wave of the purple magic left him and traveled over to the baby boy, washing over him as his curse began to bind itself to the infant.

Whatever pride that had kept Ace from outright pleading was now gone. “Starchild, please don’t do this! I’m begging you!” He sounded incredibly desperate now.

Starchild’s mouth quirked up in a smile. Now that was the reaction he’d been hoping for. But now his mind was turning again. Perhaps he could work with this…

“I like you begging,” he remarked to Ace, his enjoyment in his voice. “Do it again.”

For a moment, Ace hesitated. His eyes left Starchild to look out at the now-silent crowd, who had been watching the entire thing. He didn’t particularly want to kneel, Starchild knew.

He was about to repeat his command when Ace slowly sank down to his knees. His eyes flicked briefly to the men watching from the side, before gazing at him imploringly. “I beg you,”

Starchild smiled wickedly at him. “All right,”

Hesitant relief came to Ace’s expression, but it quickly vanished when Starchild spoke aloud again. “The prince can be woken from his death-sleep. But only by…” he stared right at Ace, “true love’s kiss.”

He turned to look out at the crowd, raising his arms above his head. “This curse will last to the end of time!” he declared, his magic coiling tightly around him. “No power on Earth can change it!”

The magic exploded, flying out over the crowd and sending many to the ground. The crowd screamed in panic as the floor rumbled and the clouds outside darkened until they blocked out the sun’s light completely.

Grinning widely, Starchild walked briskly down the steps and left the hall, Peter bounding after him. He was sure he would never forget this day—it had turned out to be so much better than he could have possibly hoped. Intoxicating joy surged through him, and he threw back his head and began to laugh as he left the hall. It was a loud, wicked cackle that bounced off the walls and bore into the skulls of all who heard it. As Queen Jeanette raced to the cradle to check on her son, Ace stayed where he was, watching Starchild strut away, cackling loudly and carelessly.

And his laughter was all Ace could hear as Starchild swept out of the hall and vanished.

[baseborns]

( ORLANDO BLOOM, THIRTY EIGHT, CISMALE, HE/HIM. ) did i hear whispers of the arrival of ( KOL STONE ) in king’s landing ? apparently the ( SELLSWORD ) is known to be ( AUDACIOUS ) and ( CHARMING ), however they’ve also been seen being rather ( MACHIAVELLIAN ) and ( AVARIOUS ). they hail from ( THE VALE ), and it’s said that they are loyal to ( WHOMEVER PAYS THE HIGHEST ). only time will tell if that will last. 

time for round 2. hi ! i’m nae  ( she/her  , twenty  ,  from good ol’ australia !  ) and i’ll be playing alyse greyjoy and  .  .  .  this jerk kol stone :/ click below to find some more Stuff abt him + some wc’s ! 

biography !

tw  :  prostitution  ,  child neglect  ,  implied death / murder.

the story surrounding kol stone is a slightly complicated and somewhat despondent one. for nothing was waiting for the young child when he entered the world besides his own arrogance to keep him warm. beginning in the vale of arryn  ,  all the way to the pits of braavos  ----  KOL STONE was not a name you’d have acknowledged  (  in fact  ,  you may have frowned at the bastard name.  )  but it would be one you’d come to know. 

his mother  ,  to put it frank  ,  was a prostitute at one of the gulltown brothels.  and his father? well  ,  his father was a lord from HOUSE LYNDERLY.  their union  ,  as brief as it was  ,  would come to conceive one of the most dangerous sellswords in the entire of westeros.  but to begin with  ,  kol stone was simply a bastard  ;  with a mother whom was often more preoccupied with other activities  and often wouldn’t have noticed if her son was even alive,  and a father he had never met but received monthly funds from. 

raised in a brothel  ,  and often kicked out into the streets when the place got too busy  ,  SURVIVAL was something kol had to learn early on.  from a child he was often seen scavenging the streets  ,  and thieving from merchants wherever possible  ;  and often he succeeded with ease  ,  for many commented on how swift  ,  nimble  ,  and quick the little bastard was.

he was ten when his mother disappeared. although  ,  he never knew for certain if his mother simply left with one of her many customers or had died in some ditch somewhere in gulltown.  nonetheless  ,  kol took the opportunity  (  or much rather  ,  was forced to take the opportunity.  )  to leave gulltown for better things.

BETTER THINGS was a far more hopeful word than anticipated. the road from gulltown to snakewood was a long  &  difficult one  ,  but it was kol’s first taste of the real world and some true independence. whatever possessed him to think he would be accepted into his father’s home with open arms  ,  he doesn’t know  ,  but he was an ORPHAN looking for some stability for a change. house lynderly housed him for a full year  ----  at the time  ,  kol was the only living son of his father  &  people were beginning to think he’d be the only lynderly child they’d be blessed with.  his father was an honorable man  ,  but a desperate one  ,  and at one point  :  had even considered asking the queen for legitimacy. 

but then  ,  his father had a child. his wife had finally given him a legitimate son  ,  a legitimate heir.  the wife  ,  whom had despised her husband’s bastard the moment he shuffled in through the doors  ,  banished him from her home .  but his first taste at wealth  &  prosperity lingered. his father said  ‘ TAKE THE BLACK  ’ and urged him towards the wall  ,  but kol had other ideas.  instead  ,  towards the coast  ,  kol managed to gain  ( or perhaps manipulate.  ) employment from a braavosi merchant in exchange for passage across the narrow sea.

BRAAVOS was where kol flourished. between street fights he managed to pick or organise  ,  and a few minor contracts after that  ,  he began to get a reputation for his success in swinging a sword or throwing a punch. many flocked to watch  ,  and within a few year he was beginning to sell his title as a SELLSWORD within essos. 

he returned home to westeros in his early thirties. although braavos had become more his home than the vale had  ,  he traveled western westeros  (  mainly throughout the stormlands  ,  the reach  ,  and briefly through dorne.  )  taking up whatever contracts nobility or commoners threw at him  ,  and for the right coin? he could turn a blind eye to any morals or decency  ;  especially as long as his belly was full  &  he had a roof over his head. 

shitpost.jpg !

swiper from dora the explorer is a Big inspiration. not gonna lie 

loyalty? love? what’s that? homeboy only knows how to love HIMSELF. 

that being said  ,  he is actually loyal to a certain extent.  as long as you pay him well  ,  he will always honor his word.  (  he’s much like bronn !  )  so really :/ you gotta’ pay for your loyalty. isn’t that Nice.

literally heard the queen was inviting houses to king’s landing and saw dollar signs. he was in king’s landing at the time  ,  but stuck around hoping to earn some $$ but either way  ,  he adores king’s landing.

he doesn’t Care about your house or title  ,  but he’s very touchy abt his own. he’s a bastard from house lynderly from the vale  ;  he was disowned by his father following the birth of a Lynderly heir  ,  and although kol has gotten over that  ,  he still doesn’t like talking about his bloodline.  he keeps it all very hush  ,  hush  !  

 he’s pretty good at his job ! really the only thing goin for him :/ but he mainly fights with his sword ! although he does have daggers he hides somewhere on him at all times.

wanted connections !

ENEMIES  :  hi i’m nae  &  i love ANGST.  kol is  .  .  .  a Jerk Trash Raccoon. he’s a liar  ,  manipulator  ,  con  ,  and general asshat.  if he hasn’t pissed dozens of people off over the years  ,  he’s ripped them off in some way or the other. (  he’s traveled all over westeros so his collection of enemies? phew   ) he’s also a sellsword so it could even be someone coming back for revenge for someone kol has taken out. 👀  *  OPEN ! 

EMPLOYER  :  as a sellsword  ,  kol is hired out by others to take out their enemies  ,  but he can also be hired out as a personal protection of sort !  kol can be rough  ,  a little negligent at times  ,  but he’s good at his job ----  so someone who has or is planning to hire him as their own personal guard !   *  OPEN !  

BUDDIES  :  kol   ,  ,   ,  doesn't have pals. he travels too much  &  he’s just not good Friend Material. but someone he can share a Cold One with?? maybe someone he’s seen around frequently over the years?? maybe someone who was in braavos??  *  OPEN !

LOVE INTEREST PART ONE  :  sigh. he definitely has left a trail of broken ( ? ) hearts in his wake.  he’s moved around westeros a LOT so he was never consistently in one place for any longer than a few months. he can be very charming  ,  he can even be lovable to a certain extent when he wants to be  ,  but commitment? don’t know her !  he’s definitely been the type to make all these promises / lie to / manipulate someone only to leave them without even a goodbye  ,   sleep around  ,  and general Man H*e capabilities. this is more of an Angsty one b/c? kol probably has no emotional attachment to these people !  but we can definitely plot something out??   *  OPEN to male  ,  female  ,  non - binary ! 

LOVE INTEREST PART TWO  :  ok part 2 because i would love to see someone that actually had an effect on kol ! kol has actually formed some emotional attachment w/ this one  &  is probably a MESS.  *  OPEN to male  ,  female  ,  non - binary !

there’s so many more that i haven’t mentioned but  ,   I’m a grandma and i need a nAP. but feel free to hmu and we can plot anything out !

[mimicofmodes]

(Not fashion. I wrote this as an answer to a question elsewhere and nobody saw it.)

Mary Tudor was the first queen regent of England. Was this noted at the time? Was there any significant reaction, positive or negative, to having a solo female ruler?

The only previous time in English history that a woman attempted to rule in her own right as her father's natural heir was Empress Matilda (1102-1167), the daughter of Henry I and granddaughter of William the Conqueror; at this time, it hadn't even been fully established that princesses could pass inheritance rights on to their sons, so it's remarkable that Henry decided to make her his heir in the absence of other legitimate children of his own. The following summary of the situation may sound familiar to you if you read or watched The Pillars of the Earth. When Henry I died in 1135, his nephew, Stephen of Blois, was able to get crowned in London since Matilda, married to the count of Anjou, wasn't able to make the journey immediately - the idea of the heir immediately becoming ruler on their predecessor's death wasn't yet a tradition. In 1139, she did travel to England, though, and sought out the support of local barons to wage a military campaign against Stephen. She prevailed and ruled for a short time in 1141 but didn't make it to a coronation before being dethroned, and kept on being "Lady of the English" until her half-brother and chief supporter, Robert of Gloucester, died in 1147. She then left for France, giving up on her own personal claim to the English throne.

In the very small number of primary sources left about Matilda's short reign and longer campaign, there's a lot of discussion of her gender. Without any precedent for a woman ruling England (though Anglo-Saxon queens had been able to wield their own kind of power as kings' wives or mothers), she had to construct a version of female kingship that led to her taking on a lot of masculine features. Henry had had her take the same normally-masculine oaths her late brother had made as heir, and while her gaining this position required her to remarry far beneath herself in order to produce her own male heirs, instead of taking on that new title she was considered largely as her father's daughter and an empress (her first husband had been the Holy Roman Emperor) and held onto most of her dowry. Once she began her quest for the crown against Stephen, she threw off conventions of gendered behavior and acted quite openly in her own interest: she captured opponents and held them in chains, legally appealed Stephen's succession, and, well, acted as a king among her own vassals.

Although there hadn't been any explicit opposition to her claim just on the basis of her gender, opponents did use her status as e.g. the wife of the Count of Anjou as tools to delegitimize her standing. Once she had some power, though, her lack of feminine reticence and modesty became a problem even in the chronicles that otherwise supported her. It wasn't so much an issue that people said, "hey, women shouldn't rule," but that once a woman was actively exercising power on her own behalf without cloaking that in concern for her son(s) or a pretense of not wanting to do it. Most kings had queens to project softer, interceding, and more forgiving royal power by their sides, rounding off their corners while they were able to make the hard choices and do nasty, bloody things. Matilda simply didn't have the advantage of this kind of partnership, and couldn't be both the king and queen.

So, Mary. While in general Matilda is not considered a proper queen regnant because she was never crowned (let's note that nobody has this problem when it comes to Edward V, one of the princes in the Tower, just saying), there is no doubt that Mary I ruled officially. Matilda was her only pattern when it came to English queenship, and due to the above, she was more valuable as an example of what not to do - despite the centuries between them, it would still not have gone over well if Mary had flouted what was expected of a woman and simply behaved like her father as a monarch.

Mary's Catholicism was a much bigger issue than her gender as a fact on its own, in a kingdom that had recently switched to Protestantism as the state religion, with a government full of people who'd fully bought into it. Where her gender came into it was the concern about where her husband - someone she was regarded as needing in order to produce her own heirs to keep feuding cousins from starting another civil war - would stand in relationship to the throne. Married women were considered femes couverts in English law, subsumed into their husbands' legal identities, which implied that a queen's husband perhaps might automatically be in charge of the country. Edward VI's "Device for the Succession" (which outlined who would follow him to the throne, since he had no heirs) excluded both Mary and the Protestant Elizabeth out of concerns about their marrying foreign princes - as would be appropriate to their station, being born princesses, even if they'd been later declared bastards - and subjecting England to foreign rule, diverting the line instead to Jane Grey, already married to an Englishman, "and her heirs male". (Jane was, technically, of course, another precedent for Mary. She planned to make her husband a duke, rather than allowing him authority over herself.)

Once she'd declared herself the queen, Mary quickly attracted support from the local gentry and nobility despite her gender: she didn't have a husband ruling over her yet and was also no longer a ward of any man, and therefore feme sole, a totally independent woman. While Mary did have to start off with a bit of military violence, unlike Matilda she had no real challengers and was therefore able to drop the masculine-coded aggression in defending her right to rule, inhabiting the office of kingship as a "normal" woman without really upsetting the overall patriarchal power structure. (It was also enshrined in law by this point that daughters could inherit from their fathers and brothers, so it simply made logical sense to most people that she was now the monarch.) She went to her coronation in cloth of gold and with her hair down, as in the famous coronation portrait of Elizabeth I, the traditional way for a king's wife being crowned to appear, and later billed this ceremony as her marriage to the realm, a marriage in which she was obviously the bride. In general, she modeled herself on her pious mother, Catherine of Aragon, rather than her powerful and somewhat arbitrary father - typically, this is presented in pop culture as just a part of her fanaticism, rather than the use of a traditional aspect of queen-consortship. She was publicly rather submissive to her advisors and ambassadors, confirming her status as an unmarried woman above her status as monarch and allowing them to believe that she was naive and trusting, as they expected her to be due to her gender. Before she wed Philip II of Spain, she talked up her desire to remain chaste and made it clear that her main reason for marriage was the succession (the ensuring of which would make her pregnant and therefore extra-womanly); she allowed it to appear that she was totally uninvolved with the negotiation process for his hand, as though the men were deciding her fate. (Despite all of this, she made it clear in her marriage paperwork that she would continue to be the ultimate authority, reducing him to the traditional female role of intercessor and soft-power-holder, and that Philip's title of "king" was only a courtesy, and she also brought no dowry at all to the match - far from the expected behavior of a royal bride, in general!) Rather than bringing herself into the masculine role of king, basically, she brought the role of kingship to herself while staying firmly in the female sphere, and while her sister's reign was longer and more successful, it's clear that Elizabeth took a certain amount of direction from the way Mary handled her gender.

Both of the two "first" queens regnant of England had a great deal of trouble in ruling (and in later biographies) as a result of the way that others perceived their gender and their ability to conform to its conventions. Their problem was the social practices surrounding their gender, that is - not just their gender in and of itself. It's difficult to get into the historical mindset that saw women considered the property of their male relatives throughout their lives (unless they were lucky enough to become rich widows) and yet also considered women not biologically unfit to rule a country. In part, this difficulty is supported by hundreds of pop cultural depictions of historical men as total chauvinists who thought women were simply stupid across the board, which ignores the reality that elite women did a lot of work in estate management and diplomacy, and which they recognized as valuable. It's a contradiction. People have a lot of contradictions, even today - we don't run on pure logic, although many think they do and use that to prop up their own internal contradictions.

You might be interested in reading The Lioness Roared: The Problems of Female Rule in English History, by Charles Beem (2006), which is 100% about this issue and was my major source for this answer. It's great! In general, I recommend all of Palgrave Macmillan’s Queenship and Power series.

[sanjuno]

How about Star Wars for the got meta game

2/7 GoT Crossover Fix-Its: Bringing Balance Between Fire and Ice

Willas Tyrell was always an odd boy, more interested in his books than jousting. Spending more time on his animals and his garden than on learning his lordly duties. You would think that it would make him weak, but Willas never skipped his arms practice or his lessons. He simply surpassed his teacher’s ability to instruct him so quickly there was little point in him lingering on the subjects. Mace Tyrell tried to be a good father, but it was obvious he had no idea how to connect with his son. Oleanna had an easier time of it, even if she constantly despaired of her grandson’s distinct lack of political ambition.

(Feemor had known his time would run out one day. He had been lucky, from a certain point of view. Feemor had never participated in the battles, had been largely unknown to the Clones. Feemor, and many others like him, had instead devoted their energies into helping the refugees and bombed out planets recover after the battlefront moved on. So it was a surprise to wake up again after being shot by Stormtroopers. Especially since he was now an infant on a primitive world. Still Human, and the Force sang strongly here. Feemor did not think that this is quite what the Masters meant when they told him that there was “no death”.)

Garlan Tyrell was his older brother come again in a slightly shorter body. Garlan had a more martial bent than Willas, was better skilled with his sword and with battle tactics. He still doted on his horse, and expressed verbal distain for the Game of Thrones even while making some of the most masterful moves Oleanna had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Garlan was constantly out and about in Highgarden, speaking with the garrison and the small folk. Garlan reached his majority with a great many interesting friends in a great many interesting places.

(Obi-wan could only feel relief when Vader struck him down. The children were safe now, and Vader would not be able to use Obi-wan against them. Vader had killed any chance of convincing the twins to join him by striking Obi-wan down. Leia would destroy him for Alderann. Luke would see justice done for his Aunt and Uncle and Master, just as Obi-wan had once brought justice to the Sith who kill his loved ones. Oh, Anakin, his life was all Obi-wan could offer in return for all the pain his dear one had suffered. Obi-wan had expected to wake up as a Force Ghost, as he had been training for with Qui-gon. A flicker, a flash, the sight of Anakin’s funeral pyre before his Padawan became one with the Force. Obi-wan then woke up in the body of an infant. The blast of shock disturbing the Force around him and drawing his older brother into the nursery. Feemor had laughed at Obi-wan before explaining what he could about their new situation. Really, this was most undignified.)

Margary Tyrell was her grandmother’s child in every possible way. From the way she managed the men in her life to the deft way she navigated the politics of Court and the Realm. The only odd stroke in the picture of a perfect Highgarden Lady was her insistence in learning how to use bow and dagger. Needlework had not saved Elia Martell, the girl told her grandmother, so she needed to be able to kill from a distance and from up close. Oleanna was simply glad the girl didn’t want to learn the sword and lance too. Margary retorted that the Tyrell House had supported the Targeryns, and so she needed to be able to kill anyone sent after her. Oleanna agreed that this was sensible and discretely hired an arms tutor for her granddaughter. It wouldn’t do for anyone to know that Margary was capable of defending herself. Keeping the skill secret might be the edge she would need to survive.

(Padme died with longing for her husband in her heart, wishing for the return of the sweet, protective boy she had met before war and Sith manipulations ruined him. Poor Obi-wan, this must be breaking his heart. Padme breathed again in the body of an infant, born in a world where women were bought and sold like artwork. It was appalling, but perhaps no worse than was her due after the way she had ignored the plight of the clones. An army of slaves, their lives bought so that free men did not have to risk their lives… was it any wonder they had turned on the Jedi? On the Republic? She was lucky to have Feemor and Obi-wan with her. Her brothers promised to keep her safe, to ensure that she got the betrothal she wanted and not the one their affable fool of a father would try and make. Mace was easy to misdirect even without Mind Tricks at their disposal.)

As if to make up for his elder sibling’s easy natures, Loras Tyrell was a brat of the highest order. Just as clever and skilled as his elder brothers, but loud about it when they were humble. Oleanna had no regrets about sending him to squire with Renly Baratheon as part of their reparations to the Crown. The ravens flew constantly between the siblings, and surprise visits to Storm’s End and later the Red Keep became commonplace. Oleanna was pleased with the loyalty her grandchildren showed one another and wondered perhaps if Mace had saved up all the intelligence he should have inherited from her in order to pass it on to her grandchildren.

(Xanatos woke up as an infant in an appallingly primitive world. At least he was born nobility, so it wasn’t as horrid as it could have been. His father still tried to manipulate him, but Mace was so clumsy about it that Xanatos couldn’t even take offence. The man was a fool, but he did at least love his children as much as his ambitions. That was a change. Oleanna was a different creature entirely. Obi-wan compared her favourably to Mother Talzin of the Nightsisters. Given his rather dramatic Fall into madness, Xanatos accepted the nearly-smothering affections of his siblings with all the grace he was capable of. They wanted to be sure of him, and if letting them kiss his head gave them that assurance, then Xanatos would allow them the privilege. Blood was blood, and it was important to have trustworthy allies in societies as war hungry as the Seven Kingdoms.)

The Tyrell siblings grew, making friends and allies with deft skill and grace. Always, somehow, in exactly the right place at exactly the right time for them to see things turn out for the best. The one thing that made them stand out was their obvious lack of faith in the Seven. Margary’s Septa despaired of the girl. She was lovely and knew all her courtesies, but just like her brothers she treated the Faith of the Seven like an amusing children’s tale. It was Willas who eventually admitted that they all felt more faith in the Old Gods than the New. Mace had trouble with this, Oleanna understood that Faith was a private thing and stated that as long as they kept up appearances they could worship however they liked.

(When the Court made plans to travel to Winterfell in the North, where the Old Gods were still properly cared for, Feemor jumped at the chance. The Old Gods and their worship echoed strongly of the oldest versions of the Jedi Code and the Force. His siblings all went North with him, determined to gather enough Weirwood saplings for a proper Godswood. Everything they had heard about Weirwood implied that the trees were Force conduits, if not Force Sensitive, and they had felt the changes in the Force around them these last several years. Something was going to happen, and soon, and the Jedi needed to be ready. The Jedi were needed in the North, now, and the Force was insistent about it.)

With the addition of the Tyrells to the party, the events that took place in Winterfell changed greatly. The Tyrells took one look at the Stark siblings and their Direwolves (noting the Force Bond between each child and their wolf) and immediately made friends. Constant questions were asked about the Old Gods, the Godswood, the Direwolves, the Heart trees, the legends passed down from the First Men. Old Nan was delighted to have a new audience for her stories. Willas respectfully asked Lord Stark for permission to take a few cuttings so that they could have proper Heart trees grown in Highgarden and whichever future keeps the other Tyrell siblings would hold. Ned agrees, and recommends going to the Isle of Faces if their cuttings fail on the way back South.

(Xanatos has been busy charming the oldest Stark girl, knowing that Sansa is the kind of innocent that is Joffrey’s favourite victim. He’s also aware of Joffrey’s parentage, which he’s informed his siblings of. Being who they are, teaching linage is more important than bloodlines for them, so they decided to wait and see how the kids turned out. Even if the inbreeding defects mean there isn’t much hope for them. So for now the Tyrell siblings are waiting for Robert to pass on, at which point they will declare for Stannis as King and Renly as his Heir. Xanatos sort of loves Renly and is sort of using him to keep House Tyrell in a position of strength. Feemor mostly just wants to take care of his Garden, while Obi-wan and Padme are determined to stabilize the Realm into something peaceful so they can start working on social improvements. At any rate, Xanatos is walking with Sansa when the Force screams a warning in his ear.)

Sansa is showing Ser Loras the grounds of Winterfell when the knight suddenly breaks into a run. She startled, and slow to follow, but she tries her best to keep up. So she arrives in time to see Ser Loras catch Bran in his arms. Her little brother’s momentum is so great the knight is thrown back, and they tumble several lengths along the flagstones before skidding to a halt. Sansa screams, the wolves are howling and she looks up to see Ser Jaime pull back from the window of the Broken Tower. Sansa’s heart turns to ice. It’s possible that the man was trying to help, but Sansa has heard her father’s warnings about the Lannisters. Even though she had dismissed them until now. But she knows Bran didn’t fall. Bran was thrown from the tower. By a Southern Knight and Sansa hates him. He tried to kill her brother. The wolf blood in Sansa wakes up, and she wants to tear out Ser Jaime’s throat with her teeth.

(Xanatos is pleased with the outcome of his little bout of heroics. The Queen and her brother’s liaison has been exposed, the parentage of her children thrown into doubt. It’s Padme who hammers in the last nail of their coffin, bringing up her research into the Houses and pointing out that there have never been Baratheon’s with blond hair. Not in over thousands of years of intermarriage. Robert is, of course, pissed beyond words. Jaime and Cersei are stripped of their titles and imprisoned. Ned manages to calm Robert down enough to keep him from making Tywin his enemy. Jaime and Joffrey are sent to the Wall, Cersei and Myrcella shipped to Casterly Rock. Tommen is sent to Old Town to train as a Maester.)

Willas and Garlan are a boon during the dramatic events following the revelation of the Queen’s cuckholding of the King. They council Robert not to remarry so quickly, as it’s obvious that he’s not in the right spirits for it. They urge him to name Stannis his Heir, and then name Renly as heir to Stannis. The Baratheon’s of Dragonstone and Storm’s End are raised to Princely Houses, and Sansa Stark is betrothed to Renly Baratheon, with Loras Tyrell as their sworn sword.

(Padme sits Sansa down and has a very frank discussion with her. Will Sansa be able to handle joining the already established relationship? Because neither her brother nor Renly are likely to give one another up, not for a wife chosen for political reasons and not love. Sansa is still young and romantic enough to prioritize a love story, and she’s already half-infatuated with the Knight of Flowers. So Sansa gets the kind of education young Ladies never get from their Septas about how to please her husband in the marriage bed.)

Renly is mostly okay with his betrothal, given that Sansa hasn’t even flowered yet so he’s still got a few years until the girl is old enough for bedding. Loras approves of her, and she’s already written to Renly assuring him that she knows about Loras, and that she would never intrude on their love. And did Renly know that the First Men had a marriage ceremony that handled this sort of situation? Would he like to hear more about it? Renly is charmed by the Northern girl’s frank discussion of how to handle their rather complicated relationship situation and decides that if he has to marry a girl, at least Sansa Stark won’t expect him to love her just because they get married. Renly actually thanks Robert for arranging the match after meeting Sansa, because even though Renly doesn’t lust after women Sansa Stark is the closest a woman can get to his type without being a man.

(Heeding the Will of the Force, the Jedi group starts to meddle a bit more overtly. Padme decides that she’s going to marry Robb Stark, so long as her brothers have no objections. There are none, so Padme takes things a step further by sharing the secret of her self-defense training with the Stark girls. The same arguments that convinced Oleanna work on Catelyn, so Sansa and Arya get a “dance teacher”. Arya of course takes it a step further and gets rapier training, but Padme manages to convince her that being a woman is not a bad thing. An agreement is struck between Arya and her parents that she’ll get her pick of the Northern Lords sons. Her choice, but it has to be from the pool of candidates agreed on by her parents. With Padme’s example to follow, Arya is content with this arrangement, and Catelyn is just relieved that Arya’s finally growing up.)

Given the loss of what they thought were three Baratheon Heirs, Robert decides to legitimize Edric Storm, the only bastard he has that was got on a noblewoman. Since the boy is both Florent and Baratheon, and because Stannis approves of the boys upbringing as a ward of Storm’s End, Edric is betrothed to Shireen to keep Dragonstone in Baratheon hands. Edric is excluded from the succession of the Iron Throne, and his children will be last in line, but it eases some of the insult Robert caused in the events of Stannis’ wedding. The Tyrell’s proceed to give everyone the gift of a Weirwood sapling, grown from the cuttings taken of the Heart tree in Winterfell. Everyone is very impressed by Willas’ ability to grow the trees South of the Neck.

(Feemor is determined to plant as many Weirwood trees as possible. Each sapling he plants in a Godswood strengthens the Living Force around him. Padme is pleased with her match to Robb, and with the attitudes of the North when it comes to giving women equal voice in regional politics. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than in most of the other Kingdoms. The Mormonts and the Reeds are by far her favourite Houses though. Obi-wan is happily running around making friends and influencing people. It’s very possible that he’s going to end up North of the Wall and seduce Val by being his loveable self, at which point the Wildlings will be brought South of the Wall and settled in the Gifts under the Lordship of the Blue Rose. Obi-wan gets along with them because they’re very much like Mandalorians. Xanatos is busy tending to his relationship and researching the First Man wedding ceremony meant to bind several people together in equal status and legitimacy. Good thing they’ve all already publicly converted to the Old Gods years ago. That makes things simpler on a social front.)

Garlan’s marriage to a Wildling Princess comes with the knowledge that the Others are real and are marching on the Wall. He negotiates passage for the Wildlings through the gates and settles them into both the Gift and the New Gift with promises of support for the Wall in the form of manpower and supplies. A new House Tyrell is founded in the North with a Blue Rose banner. Sansa Stark asks King Robert to legitimize her brother Jon as a wedding present. Jon Stark is serving as a squire in the Northern House Tyrell when he meets Ygrette, and she’s very determined to have him as her husband. Garlan laughs until he cries when Jon’s dragged to the Heart tree. Luckily Lord Stark and Arya were visiting at the time so they got to be there for the wedding. Ned gives Jon a keep and lands reasonably close to the Wall and the Gifts as a wedding present.

(The Force is pleased with the efforts the Jedi have taken to promote peace and harmony among the Seven Kingdoms. Tywin Lannister has all but withdrawn entirely from politics, leaving everything in the hands of Kevan and Tyrion. The Martells are a bit of an afterthought at this point, even with their scheming. Seeing Tywin Lannister to badly shamed to even show his face at Court is perhaps the best revenge they could ever have on him, even if it was not accomplished through their own efforts. The knowledge that no Lannister blood will be seated on the Iron Throne is even better. The punishment fit the crime perfectly.)

Daenerys Targaryen arrives in the Seven Kingdoms with her dragons and is quickly educated on the reality of the Rebellion. Her father was a monster, her brother was mad and obsessed with prophecy, and no one cares to see her on the throne. Her best bet, if she wants to avoid testing all her food for poison for the rest of her probably-short life is to assist the forces at the Wall with destroying the Others. When Daenerys starts to try and gather support for her claim to the Iron Throne, someone suggests that she marry Robert to cement things. Willas offers arguments in support for this, despite Daenerys’ very vocal protests, asking why she wants to win through bloodshed when a wedding will give her the result she wants without needing to kill countless people. It will be Targaryen blood on the Iron Throne once again, and everyone’s loyalties are satisfied.

(Feemor is aware of the fact that Daenerys is infertile and barren. It’s not an unexpected result from all the inbreeding and her getting pregnant so young. The Force readings Feemor gets off the Mother of Dragons are very clear on the fact that she can’t have any children, so Feemor works with Xanatos to arrange things for a peaceful resolution. The Baratheon inheritance is already sorted out, so Daenerys marrying Robert will keep the various Houses in the Seven Kingdoms from starting a Civil War.)

Since she can have no human children, Daenerys cannot inherit a ruling seat and she’s useless in a normal marriage alliance. It takes a lot of repetition from a lot of different sources, but Daenerys eventually comes to learn that despite having dragons at her disposal, she herself is still human. She will die one day and without an heir to inherit after her everything she built will fall to ruin as people contest for the Iron Throne. Marrying Robert is her best choice, because it both makes her Queen and the Baratheon’s were founded by a Targeryen offshoot, as well as Robert having a Targaryen grandmother. Ironically, it’s Ned Stark who makes the biggest impact on Daenerys. His father, elder brother, and only sister were killed as a direct result of Targaryen madness, and Daenerys, with her stubborn, misguided, singleminded goal of ruling the Iron Throne herself, is giving the impression that she’s just as mad as the rest of her House. The Targaryen name will die with her, so why does she think that she has any right to what they lost through their own dishonourable actions?

(The Force Provides, and the Jedi are pleased with how neatly things are coming together. Without the Council to stifle their actions they’ve managed to keep the Realm stable and strong enough to beat back the White Walkers. Obi-wan captures a Wright and sticks it in an ice block to take South to prove that the Others have returned. With Daenerys married to Robert and Sansa’s children set to inherit the Iron Throne, Ned tells Jon about his true parentage. Jon tells the rest of the Starks, and they all agree to keep it secret. They arrange for Jon’s eldest daughter to wed Sansa’s eldest son to tie everything together, just in case the truth ever comes out. The Jedi are working with the Stark’s warging powers. The Tyrells are honest about the fact that their powers are better suited to gardening than animal handling. Jon manages to warg with Daenerys’ dragons, and the Force gives the impression that Sansa’s children will have that power as well. This will thankfully keep the dragons under control once Daenerys passes on.)

Then there’s a big dramatic fight against ice zombies and dragons raining fire from the sky and the Jedi teachings spreading under the guise of worshipping the Old Gods. I have no idea who Willas-Feemor ends up marrying but I’m entertaining the thought of him romancing Asha Greyjoy just because Yoda’s lineage has a thing for grey morality.