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weirwoodking · 4 years ago

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I have a small headcanon that Sansa has already skinchanged into a bird without her knowledge once before. This passage about Marillion in the sky cells in particular:

“When she closed her eyes she could see him in his sky cell, huddled in a corner away from the cold black sky, crouched beneath a fur with his woodharp cradled against his chest.”

What do you think?

Oh, absolutely. I do think that she’s experienced her powers in some way, she just hasn’t thought about them.

George does leave these little subtle hints in the text that point to the Stark kids abilities, the earliest being in chapter one:

Halfway across the bridge, Jon pulled up suddenly.

“What is it, Jon?” their lord father asked.

“Can’t you hear it?”

Bran could hear the wind in the trees, the clatter of their hooves on the ironwood planks, the whimpering of his hungry pup, but Jon was listening to something else.

“There,” Jon said. He swung his horse around and galloped back across the bridge. They watched him dismount where the direwolf lay dead in the snow, watched him kneel. A moment later he was riding back to them, smiling.

“He must have crawled away from the others,” Jon said. (Bran I, AGOT)

While on horseback, and halfway across the bridge, already far away from where a mute direwolf puppy was, Jon was able to “hear” him. Obviously, he didn’t hear Ghost, he sensed him. Already, he was bonded with Ghost, even though this was about a year and half before Jon had his first “true” wolf dream. And furthermore, it takes a while before he’s able to clearly remember these dreams:

The wolf dreams had been growing stronger, and he found himself remembering them even when awake. (Jon I, ADWD)

So, yes, I definitely think that Sansa could already be having skinchanging dreams with a bird/birds. She just might not remember it. Also, she doesn’t have to have been having direct dreams, but moments of using the bird’s senses. Not fully in the animal, just sharing it’s space for a moment.

Unlike the sh*w, where skinchanging is an on/off switch (you’re either inside the animal or not inside the animal), skinchanging in the books is more nuanced. Jon is able to brush his hand up against Ghost and tap into the wolf’s senses, without fully warging him. He can even taste blood in his mouth after Ghost kills, and he can feel the wolf’s hunger. The most notable instance of this “one mind in two bodies simultaneously” thing is with Arya and the Braavos street cat:

That night she dreamed she was a wolf again, but it was different from the other dreams. In this dream she had no pack. She prowled alone, bounding over rooftops and padding silently beside the banks of a canal, stalking shadows through the fog. (Cat of the Canals, AFFC)

The tavern was near empty, and she was able to claim a quiet corner not far from the fire. No sooner had she settled there and crossed her legs than something brushed up against her thigh. "You again?" said the blind girl. She scratched his head behind one ear, and the cat jumped up into her lap and began to purr. Braavos was full of cats, and no place more than Pynto's. The old pirate believed they brought good luck and kept his tavern free of vermin. "You know me, don't you?" she whispered. Cats were not fooled by a mummer's moles. They remembered Cat of the Canals.

[...]

The Lyseni took the table nearest to the fire and spoke quietly over cups of black tar rum, keeping their voices low so no one could overhear. But she was no one and she heard most every word. And for a time it seemed that she could see them too, through the slitted yellow eyes of the tomcat purring in her lap. One was old and one was young and one had lost an ear, but all three had the white-blond hair and smooth fair skin of Lys, where the blood of the old Freehold still ran strong. (The Blind Girl, ADWD)

"It is good to know. This is two. Is there a third?"

"Yes. I know that you're the one who has been hitting me." Her stick flashed out, and cracked against his fingers, sending his own stick clattering to the floor.

The priest winced and snatched his hand back. "And how could a blind girl know that?"

I saw you. "I gave you three. I don't need to give you four." Maybe on the morrow she would tell him about the cat that had followed her home last night from Pynto's, the cat that was hiding in the rafters, looking down on them. Or maybe not. If he could have secrets, so could she. (The Blind Girl, ADWD)

While Arya is not fully outside of her body and in the body of the cat, she’s able to use the cat’s eyes as her own. And she isn’t even aware that she’s doing it, it’s just occurring naturally. I do believe that the same cat she dreams as in AFFC is the tomcat that she sees through in ADWD.

So, yes, I do believe that Sansa could be looking through the eyes of a bird. She’s just not aware of it.

It does seem like the Stark kids are much more powerful than the average skinchangers/wargs, immediately bonding to the wolves without realizing it, and already connecting with other animals. Arya is able to warg Nymeria from an entirely separate continent, which probably isn’t standard behavior, especially not for someone who doesn’t even know what they’re doing and has no training. Even Varamyr, a man who has mastered the control of five animals, recognizes Jon’s power:

The gift was strong in Snow, but the youth was untaught, still fighting his nature when he should have gloried in it. (Prologue, ADWD)

So, the Starks seem to be pretty powerful. And that includes Sansa, as GRRM has confirmed that she is still a skinchanger, meaning that he’s definitely going to have a bond with an animal at some point. It would make sense for him to have already been leaving little hints about it.

A very important component to Sansa’s character, which could be affecting her skinchanging powers, is her memory. The way that Sansa’s mind has coped with her trauma is by suppressing and rewriting certain distressing, scarring, and confusing memories. This is something that all the Stark kids do, in different levels. For example, Bran believes that Rickon intentionally suppresses the memory of Ned being dead:

"Tell Robb I want him to come home," said Rickon. "He can bring his wolf home too, and Mother and Father." Though he knew Lord Eddard was dead, sometimes Rickon forgot... willfully, Bran suspected. (Bran V, ACOK)

Bran himself does this as well:

The dream he'd had... the dream Summer had had... No, I mustn't think about that dream. He had not even told the Reeds, though Meera at least seemed to sense that something was wrong. If he never talked of it maybe he could forget he ever dreamed it, and then it wouldn't have happened and Robb and Grey Wind would still be... (Bran IV, ASOS)

Sansa does this the most out of her siblings, it’s her primary coping mechanism. One example is how remembers (or tries not to remember) Jeyne Poole:

Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears. (Sansa II, ACOK)

She tries to not to think of her, because it’s too traumatic for her to do so.

Another example is how she’s trying to process the situations she’s in at the Eyrie.

I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard's daughter and Lady Catelyn's, the blood of Winterfell. She did not say it, though. If not for Petyr Baelish it would have been Sansa who went spinning through a cold blue sky to stony death six hundred feet below, instead of Lysa Arryn. He is so bold. Sansa wished she had his courage. She wanted to crawl back into bed and hide beneath her blanket, to sleep and sleep. She had not slept a whole night through since Lysa Arryn's death. (Sansa I, AFFC)

He is serving me lies as well, Sansa realized. They were comforting lies, though, and she thought them kindly meant. A lie is not so bad if it is kindly meant. If only she believed them...

The things her aunt had said just before she fell still troubled Sansa greatly. "Ravings," Petyr called them. "My wife was mad, you saw that for yourself." And so she had. All I did was build a snow castle, and she meant to push me out the Moon Door. Petyr saved me. He loved my mother well, and...

And her? How could she doubt it? He had saved her.

He saved Alayne, his daughter, a voice within her whispered. But she was Sansa too... and sometimes it seemed to her that the Lord Protector was two people as well. He was Petyr, her protector, warm and funny and gentle... but he was also Littlefinger, the lord she'd known at King's Landing, smiling slyly and stroking his beard as he whispered in Queen Cersei's ear. And Littlefinger was no friend of hers. When Joff had her beaten, the Imp defended her, not Littlefinger. When the mob sought to rape her, the Hound carried her to safety, not Littlefinger. When the Lannisters wed her to Tyrion against her will, Ser Garlan the Gallant gave her comfort, not Littlefinger. Littlefinger never lifted so much as his little finger for her.

Except to get me out. He did that for me. I thought it was Ser Dontos, my poor old drunken Florian, but it was Petyr all the while. Littlefinger was only a mask he had to wear. Only sometimes Sansa found it hard to tell where the man ended and the mask began. Littlefinger and Lord Petyr looked so very much alike. She would have fled them both, perhaps, but there was nowhere for her to go. Winterfell was burned and desolate, Bran and Rickon dead and cold. Robb had been betrayed and murdered at the Twins, along with their lady mother. Tyrion had been put to death for killing Joffrey, and if she ever returned to King's Landing the queen would have her head as well. The aunt she'd hoped would keep her safe had tried to murder her instead. Her uncle Edmure was a captive of the Freys, while her great-uncle the Blackfish was under siege at Riverrun. I have no place but here, Sansa thought miserably, and no true friend but Petyr. (Sansa I, AFFC)

Sansa knows deep down (not even that deep, just down) that Petyr is untrustworthy. She knows he’s fed her lies, but she wants to believe them. She wants to be able to trust him. She wants to feel like she can be safe with him. She wants to be safe. It bothers me a lot whenever people say Sansa is “stupid” for trusting Petyr, or “uncaring” for not thinking often of Jeyne. She isn’t stupid or uncaring, she’s a traumatized thirteen year old whose brain is trying to cope with what she’s gone through and what she’s currently going through.

So, she has built a wall. And behind that wall are the memories of Lysa’s death, the truth about Jon Arryn’s murder, and Jeyne Poole. I think it would make sense if skinchanging, something that involves the mind, is also something that she’s subconsciously repressing. I talked about this sometime a while ago, but I believe that a big moment for Sansa in TWOW is going to be her confronting her memories. And most significantly, confronting Baelish about what happened to Jeyne Poole and exposing the truth of Jon Arryn and Lysa’s deaths. Thus, defeating Littlefinger, the mockingbird.

It would make sense if this coincided with her skinchanging abilities truly awakening. As her mind opens, her powers become stronger. I’m pretty deadset on Sansa’s bird being a falcon, not just for the House Arryn connection and because she’s gone hawking with a falcon before, but also because of the symbolism. Falcons symbolize “vision, freedom, and victory. Hence, it also connotes salvation to those who are in bondage whether moral, emotional, or spiritual”. I think that Sansa bonding with a falcon and “flying free” would be perfect for the conclusion of her caged bird arc.

Sorry, this got really long, it just kind of turned into all my thoughts about how skinchanger-Sansa might come to be in TWOW. I think it’s going to be an important part of her story, as you don’t just give four of your POV characters the ability to control animals with their minds and not have that matter. (And, it’s already an important part of Jon, Arya, and Bran’s stories, so it most likely will be for Sansa, too.)

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #sansa stark #twow #the winds of winter #twow speculation #asoiaf speculation #long post #ask #jeynearrynofthevale

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astradrifting · 3 years ago

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GRRM really created so many parallels and foreshadow using the DoD characters that honestly we could just figure the asoiaf ending by analyzing it. My favorite is the Aegon III-D@ny parallels, the fact that one of his closest allies was a face-scarred Master of coin Lannister who ended as Hand to Bran' parallel character just make it so obvious its funny.

Oh my god I didn’t even realise Tyland Lannister was initially on the greens’ side! I’m not super fond of Tyrion ending up as Hand, but you’re right that it’s so obviously meant to reference him. There’s so many parallels that it’s a little crazy. I don’t want to say that the second Dance will end exactly as the first did, it’d be a little too neat if history repeated entirely, but you can see so many echoes of it even in the show’s bastardised ending.

“The broken, shattered realm suffered for a while yet, but the Dance of the Dragons was done. Now what awaited the realm was the False Dawn, the Hour of the Wolf, the rule of the regents, and the Broken King.”

(TWOIAF, Aegon II)

I’m not sure what the False Dawn is going to parallel to, it refers to the period of time after Aegon II’s death but before Lord Stark got to King’s Landing, when people thought that peace had finally come. It kind of brings to mind the War for the Dawn, though personally I think that the threat of the Others will be resolved before the Dance is over. The Hour of the Wolf is obviously about House Stark’s rise back to power, and the Broken King is Bran - though if he actually becomes known as Bran the Broken I might end up committing violence ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The parts about Lord Corlys Velaryon are why I’m so hopeful that Jon’s book ending will be completely different from the show’s. He’s arrested for Aegon II’s death by Cregan Stark, even though Cregan had previously declared for Rhaenyra, because as TWOIAF puts it, “to kill a cruel and unjust king in lawful battle was one thing. But foul murder, and the use of poison, was a betrayal against the very gods who had anointed him.”

Corlys didn’t deny his guilt, and expressed no regret. “What I did, I did for the good of the realm. I would do the same again. The madness had to end.”

Cregan Stark declared him to be guilty of murder, regicide, and high treason, and he was sentenced to execution. But many spoke in his defence, even people who had fought against him in the Dance. Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, Corlys’ granddaughters and Aegon III’s half-sisters, convinced Aegon to issue an edict pardoning Lord Velaryon, which Alysanne Blackwood then convinced Cregan to let stand. Lord Velaryon was pardoned and even restored to his offices and honours, made one of the king’s regents and given a place on the small council.

Corlys’ words definitely could be Jon’s as well, a much more in-character declaration post-D@ny’s death than the drivel GoT tried to feed us. I was worried for a bit that this would be how Tyrion is let off scot-free, but Baela and Rhaena, who were vital to his release, are such obvious Arya and Sansa stand-ins, and they’re certainly not going to expend any effort in helping Tyrion. So Corlys’ circumstances more likely lays the groundwork for how Jon will be freed and remain in political power, while Tyland frankly inexplicably becoming Aegon III’s Hand after he was in favour of brutally killing him parallels Tyrion managing to fail up, as a way of reconciling the old regime with the new one.

This makes Tyrion becoming Hand more palatable IMO. Either Jon and Tyrion both should have been punished or neither should have been punished, not the travesty where Tyrion gets everything he’s ever wanted while Jon is exiled to a Watch with no purpose and a Wall that’s already half-collapsed, so what exactly can it protect against? I suppose they were afraid of seemingly rewarding Jon for killing d@ny, especially if pol!Jon had been revealed, but most people noticed how nonsensical his ending was, and it just led to ‘Bloodraven/Bran is the real villain’ takes anyway.

(Side note: Asha/Yara basically still being loyal to D at the end annoys me so much, and made no sense. Jon did more to help save her by giving Theon that pep talk than D@ny did. Maybe it was a leftover from her taking Victarion’s role in the story, but in no reasonable world is anyone going to listen to the Ironborn who brought the Fire threat over in the first place.)

Of course Tyland Lannister isn’t actually Hand for long, given that he dies barely two years later from Winter Fever, feared and hated, alone except for a maester and King Aegon. It might be an indication that Tyrion will face a similar fate, that he’ll die after he’s seemingly won, exactly what he threatened Cersei with:

“A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid."

(ACOK, Tyrion XII)

So that I can stop talking about Tyrion, here’s some facts about Rhaena and Baela that are obviously meant to reference Sansa and Arya, so much so that it feels a little bit like GRRM is winking and going “See what I did there? Huh? Huh? Did you see??”:

- their descriptions: “Rhaena was slender and graceful; Baela was lean and quick; Rhaena loved to dance; Baela lived to ride...” + “Baela was wild and willful”, “more boyish than ladylike”, and kept her hair cropped short as a boy’s

- Rhaena spent most of the Dance in the Vale, where she lived in relative comfort as the ward of Lady Jeyne Arryn. Baela was a dragonrider and so moved between Dragonstone and Driftmark, but was captured on Dragonstone when Aegon II descended upon it

- Rhaena was favoured to be queen after her brother, considered more qualified than her wild sister

- Baela liked to spend time with “unsuitable companions” she would bring to the Red Keep - including a comely juggler, a blacksmith’s apprentice whose muscles she admired (!!!), a legless beggar, a pair of twin girls from a brothel, an entire troupe of mummers once

- After her brother’s regents tried to marry her to a lord 40 years older than her, Baela escaped the Red Keep by climbing out of a window, trading clothes with a washerwoman, then walking right out of the front gate. She ran away to Driftmark and married her supposed cousin (though more likely he was her half-uncle), the legitimised bastard Alyn Velaryon, which might have had me worried about j0nrya if Alyn weren’t best known for being a daring sailor who went on many voyages, including sailing the Sunset Sea, until he was finally lost at sea during Aegon IV’s reign. Alyn’s mother was also called Mouse, for being “small, quick, and always underfoot.”

- another fun fact about Alyn: he’s a bad haggler, and had to agree to a high ransom and many concessions in order to get Prince Viserys returned to Westeros. This automatically disqualifies him as a Jon stand-in, because as we all know, Jon Snow can haggle like the best of fishwives.

- My absolutely favourite detail that has my jonsa heart singing - Rhaena was more dutiful than her sister and would have married a man that the king and council chose, saying that as long as he was “kind and gentle and noble, I know that I shall love him.” She was able to marry her first choice, whom the regents didn’t immediately approve of but that they ultimately accepted - Ser Corwyn Corbray, the brother of the Lord Protector of the Realm, a second son (!) whose late father had gifted him the Valyrian steel sword Lady Forlorn (!!!)

And as a treat for @istumpysk, some similarities between Rickon and Viserys II!

- the youngest child of their family

- separated from their older brother after they were forced to flee their home, trying to get to safety while their other brothers and mother were at war

- worshipped their oldest (half-)brothers, but were closer to the brother nearest their age

- spends the war stuck on an island, populated by people closely linked to their family’s origins - Skagosi are descended mostly from the First Men, while Viserys was on Lys, where the blood of Old Valyria still runs strong

- sought by/held hostage by a powerful and wealthy family, who will treat them well but whose intentions are dubious

- will be brought back from exile by an upjumped bastard/commoner from a port town who was raised to lordship and became their monarch’s chief admiral

- after they are returned, long after the wars and crises, is happily welcomed as the heir to their older brother’s throne (shhhhh just let me have this, let the baby live)

Thanks for the ask!

#astra rambles #asks #its not quite 5000 words but i got it in under the deadline stumpy :P #half speculation half 'my wildest dreams and hopes'#anti tyrion lannister #kind of #rickon stark #jon snow #sansa stark #arya stark #anti got #speculation #meta #dod 2.0 #dod parallels

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a-libra-writes · 4 years ago

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Belonging - Stannis Baratheon x Wife!Reader

this is 1000% self indulgent and gift to myself after having an awful time LMAO please enjoy. i love this man so much. excuse the terrible title yall know i think of them absolutely last

Summary: Takes place around the time Robert was crowned, when Stannis and the Reader are married for less than a year. Robert’s drunkenness results in some jealousy and misunderstandings (and making up).

There was one thing she had to admit about the Southerners, at least the ones in King’s Landing: They could certainly throw a party.

Lady Y/N couldn’t count how many she’d been to in the past year, or even the past month. It was just another pastime in King’s Landing, as natural to the highborns as drinking wine and wearing silk. If there was no pressing matter for him to attend to, and if he was bored, King Robert would have a feast.

Hells, he’d throw one even if the city gates were on fire, goblet in one hand and his axe in another. And as an honored sister-in-law, Y/N was invited to every gathering. Naturally the invitation was extended to Stannis, but no one expected her husband to actually attend. When they first married he’d gone for her sake, and for the sake of appearances, but that was no longer needed after nearly a year of being together.

Y/N had mixed feelings about that. She didn’t want Stannis to be miserable and on edge the whole evening, because he would be, but she was willing to admit she missed him. Sitting on the dais in her honored seat, it wouldn’t matter who sat at her left, because her attention would be on Stannis, who always sat to her right. At first it was her expected wifely duty to attend with him. To ensure they both looked as a pair, their houses united for the sake of the king… even if the king and his queen were constantly squabbling. That made Y/N and her husband’s united front even more important.

Stannis didn’t like to shout at her above the feast-goers, so he’d lean in, and she’d do the same until their shoulders pressed together. That small contact used to make him tense, but eventually he relaxed into it, just like they both relaxed into the conversation that would pass. Who was drinking too much, who was attending for the first time in years, when the madness would be over and they could go back to their quarters. Talking to Stannis became easy, and eventually they’d just pick up whatever conversation was left off before the feast. It would be nearly midnight, with revelers laughing and dancing and passing out all around them, and Stannis and Y/N would still be talking back and forth on the dais.

They didn’t just do that, though. She could coax him into a dance, taking his thin hand in her’s and pulling him to his feet. During their firsts feasts together, it was all show. Look at the newlyweds: the humorless brother of the king and his wild Northern bride. They were an act, a sideshow, and Y/N was determined to quiet the snickers and smirks. Stannis tolerated two dances, and he was stiff as a board the entire time, but Y/N was graceful. She could smile and silently guide him through, and soon, they blended in with the rest of the crowd. People stopped gawking when it became clear he wouldn’t stumble and she knew the Southern songs.

He still hated it, but when he saw her looking longingly at dancing pairs, Stannis would stare at her hand before carefully moving his fingers over her’s. Y/N’s excited eyes would meet his, and he’d reflexively squeeze her hand, pleased he could bring that light to her face. He would still only do the minimum amount of dances, but now they moved together, and they stood closer. He didn’t need her guidance to know where his feet should go next. And if the crowd was thinning out and paying more attention to their drinks than the music, he could hear her witty remarks about the guests and give his own.

They left early compared to the other revelers, and especially compared to the king. There would still be laughter and voices echoing off the halls as they disappeared into the vastness of the Red Keep. Y/N would take off her shoes and hold onto his arm, her mind spinning from sleepiness and drink, and Stannis would guide her back to their quarters, which always seemed too far away. Often he’d hold her shoes, once he carried her.

Y/N frowned as she recalled all this. There wouldn’t be any of that tonight - she couldn’t talk to Stannis, or dance with him, or lean on his broad shoulders on the way back. Yes, she had her little friends and acquaintances, but that wasn’t the same. She was startled by how much her heart tugged at her, like it wanted to pull her out of her seat and lead her toward the person she was missing.

My friends wanted me to attend, and I made all this effort on my gown and hair. I ought to stay at least another hour. Y/N had been looking forward to the food and music, but as the minutes passed, all the voices and the stuffiness of the hall began to irk her. She’d been to these parties alone before and hadn’t felt this pitiful. I need to get ahold of myself and have some fun, damn it.

At least King Robert and Queen Cersei had long left the dais, off to do their mingling separately. They stayed apart as much as possible, Y/N observed. She slipped off the dais herself, determined to find someone she knew and get herself a dance. She carefully lifted her black gown, letting the back trail gracefully as she crossed into the crowd. It was one of Y/N’s favorite gowns, a beautifully slimming dress made of chiffon that hugged at her waist. The skirt was long and luxurious, fluttering behind her as she made the smallest movements. In the light, the gold thread that was woven through the black fabric shimmered and gave the effect of her body sparkling.

Y/N only needed modest jewelry and a simple belt of black diamonds and gold to accessorize it; she felt her body and the gown were statement enough. When she walked, she allowed herself to indulge in the power her status brought. Being the sister-in-law of a King, few could approach her directly. She could refuse dances, refuse conversation. Lords could leer, but they couldn’t hope to have her direct attention, and they had to keep a respectful distance. It was a far cry from the feasts from when Y/N was a girl freshly flowered, and her father wouldn’t stop parading her around eligible men, like a slab of fresh lamb on a platter. Those humiliating days were over.

She raised her chin and exuded the confidence she felt. An older woman passed her, then stopped and looked twice. Her eyes brightened with shameless delight. “Lady Y/N! What an honor! Please, would you grace my family with a few words? My daughter would so love to speak to you.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped, but her face remained steady. She faintly recalled this woman and her house - an old Kingslander family - but she didn’t need to remember names. She just had to say, “Lead the way, my lady,” And the woman practically giggled as she did so.

From there she was bounced from family to family, dancing here and socializing there. Y/N was good with her words, and a few times she ran into a friend that gave her an escape when the conversation became too much. When that gnawing loneliness would bite at her, Y/N would quickly move to another dance partner. It was funny to feel so lonely in the middle of a feast, but here she was, glancing longingly at the open doorways as if he’d actually walk through them.

Once her feet started aching, Y/N felt the need to call it a night. That gnawing in her chest had turned into a bruise that someone wouldn’t stop touching. The pinching shoes were just making it worse. She sat down on a bench to lift her skirt slightly and look at the damage - no blisters yet, but that could change. Y/N glanced around, wondering what time it was. Her first thought was: Is he still awake?

She could just picture Stannis hunched over his desk, muttering irritably over a collection of papers. Or maybe she’d catch him in a calmer mood, reading a book by the hearth or getting ready for bed.

I need to control myself. I doubt he thinks of me as much.

That wasn’t a pleasant thought, so she set it aside. Y/N stood, wincing as the pain shot from her feet to her calves. She’d throw the shoes out as soon as she was back.

Y/N passed a boisterous circle of people on her way to the door, and she knew who caused it. King Robert was sitting on top of a table, loudly singing war songs with the old lords and their sons who had fought for him. Y/N glanced back a moment, watching them with amusement. The King was completely drunk, there was no question of that, but he was full of mirth and life. His blue eyes sparkled as he tipped his drink to a lord that hit a high note, then someone made a jap and everyone laughed again.

He reminded her of one of her brothers, one who was always laughing and didn’t take anything seriously. Y/N understood why men followed the king into battle, and why they liked him now. She understood why others misliked him. Personally, she was unsure if laughter, drink and song were the right recipe for a king.

When she turned away and nearly stepped over the threshold into the dark hall, she heard him. It was impossible not to hear that booming voice. “Y/N! Where are you going, sister? Have you always been here?”

Oh, hells. Y/N turned around and put a smile on her face. It’s not that she had no particular bad feelings toward Robert, he was just so much, and she was tired. He reeked of wine when he approached her, as expected, just as she expected his wild black hair and more practical clothes. Even when he was full of wine, his strength and height were imposing compared to Y/N. She understood how he could kill Rhaegar Targaryen.

“You seem to be having a lovely night, your grace,” Y/N said, planning words for escape. “Everyone is enjoying the feast as much as you are, that is plain to see. It’s all a bit too much for me.”

The smile he returned was also expected. Drunk men were not difficult to flatter. “Glad you made it, Y/N. You know Stannis never wants to bother. Surprised he didn’t keep you from it.”

“Well, he doesn’t dictate what I can or can’t do.”

To Y/N’s confusion, Robert found the comment hilarious and almost spilled his wine as he laughed. “Damned right. My brother always thinks he has the right to order others around.”

She flushed in embarrassment. Y/N hadn’t meant it like that. Rather, she and Stannis were independent. He wasn’t controlling like some husbands could be, and treated her like her own person, besides. Robert drained the last of his wine and tossed the goblet carelessly. It hit a table and rolled off the side.

“We should dance, Y/N. There’s damn good musicians tonight.”

“... If you wish, your grace. I could manage one.”

Damn it all. It was just the thing she wanted to avoid. Y/N hoped he wouldn’t rope her into half a dozen dances; ideally, he’d get bored or nauseous after a while... Or better, a busty serving girl would pass and his attention would be completely taken away.

“You ought to call me Robert!” He insisted as they settled into position. Robert towered over Y/N even more, but he held her loosely in his large hands. “All these damned titles. I think some men already forgot my name.”

“It’s a matter of respect - and they could never forget their king.” Y/N said, but he probably wasn’t listening. Several nobles and courtiers were watching them, and it made her embarrassment all the worse. She tried to keep up with his long steps, and Robert held her closer as he avoided a stumble. She prayed they were all too drunk to remember this, or notice who she was.

At least he was able to avoid crashing into other dancing pairs. The King looked down at Y/N with a puzzled expression. “Where is Stannis, anyway?”

Where do you think he is? Y/N thought, but said, “Attending to his work, I presume.”

“What work? What in the seven hells could he be doing, leaving you here?”

“I’m attending on my own, your grace.” Y/N said patiently. “I’ve hardly been ‘left’. Stannis prefers quiet to crowds, as you know.”

“Don’t I know it. He’s always been strange.” Robert grunted. He was lost in thought for a moment, or perhaps he had a spot of dizziness from the drink. Again, he looked down at her, but Y/N was perplexed by what he could find interesting. She wished the song was over already. This silence was uncomfortable.

Suddenly, Robert said with a laugh, “Imagine, if Stannis got stuck with that lioness instead. Her curse of a father would never allow it, but - ha! I’d like to see who’d win. Can’t sharpen her claws on stone.”

Y/N had no idea how to respond to that. Was he referring to Stannis marrying Cersei? What did that have to do with anything? “Your grace, I …”

“Would’ve been better if it was you and me, hm?”

Robert’s large hand slipped dangerously low on her waist, and the way he so casually slid his fingers down her side made Y/N’s blood turn to ice. He held her closer still, grinning like there was some secret between the two of them. The iciness spread to her gut and squeezed it hard.

Y/N hastily glanced around, wondering if anyone noticed - for a fleeting second, if anyone would save her. Her heels squeezed her feet as they danced, the aching returning with a vengeance. Robert had her in an iron grip, and he kept stroking her hip.

“He isn’t any good, I bet,” Robert mumbled, the drink beginning to affect him now. They swayed a little, and he leaned down, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. “Bet he doesn’t know what to do with a pretty thing like you.”

Y/N gritted her teeth. “Your grace. The song is over.”

It wasn’t, but she tried to pull away. Robert blinked, swaying with her sudden movement. He righted the two of them. “There’s still plenty of night left, Y/N. I’ll get us a better drink, this Dornish swill doesn’t sit with me.”

Let go! Her head screamed. The discomfort and sickness in her stomach reached a peak, and she all put pushed at his muscular body. Y/N stumbled back, her heels pinching her hard. “E-Excuse me, your grace,” She hurried through an excuse without looking at him. “I feel ill. I should rest.”

She didn’t bother to listen to Rober’s response. Y/N turned on her heel and skittered away, not caring about the looks she received as she darted through the crowd to the hallway. Away from the feast, the Keep’s red stone halls were cold and soothing. She picked a doorway and took herself as far as her biting heels would allow. It wasn’t until she reached a dead end that Y/N took in a deep breath of air and slid down to her knees. She heard seams pop in her dress from the swift movement.

She took in another breath, slowly released it, then took in another. The ice in her veins had turned to bile in her stomach. She oriented herself and staggered her way to the private apartments meant for the family of the king.

The door opened suddenly. The only evidence of Stannis’ surprise was how sharply his eyes glanced up. He was in the same place she left him, doing the same thing - sifting through a storm of paperwork on a desk. She hurried to the bedchambers.

She flopped on the bed, feeling her hairnet coming loose and hearing several more seams popping. The dress was too damned tight. She sucked in a breath and began unlacing it, grateful a handmaiden didn’t wait up for her. They were kind, but they hovered, and she didn’t want to be around anyone right now. Y/N’s head began to pound, and she tried to concentrate on undoing the dress without tearing any more of it.

There was a knock at the door, and she flinched, then sighed. Of course he’d knock. “Come in.”

Stannis never seemed entirely comfortable coming in when she dressed, even if it was his bedroom too. He averted his eyes as Y/N worked her dress off. “You’ve returned early.”

Y/N cleared her voice to make sure it was steady, and blinked her eyes a few times to keep the stinging at bay. “Is it early? I was already so tired.”

They had silence before, but this felt oppressing. Y/N tried to ignore it. She gave up on removing the dress; her braids and hairpins were a chore to remove, so they’d be a welcome distraction. Maybe he’d go back to his work, and she could go to bed and just pretend this night didn’t --

In a few steps, Stannis crossed the room and knelt before her. Y/N’s hair fell to her shoulders as she pulled the last pin, but her hand stayed suspended as she looked at him questioningly. Even in the candlelight, she saw a blush tinging his cheeks. He avoided her gaze and unlaced her heels, carefully holding her ankle as he pulled them off.

Carefully. Gently. She was instantly reminded of harsh hands gripping her, and the feeling of ice running up her limbs returned. Before Y/N could say anything, Stannis quickly stood and put her shoes away.

Y/N curled her legs up to her chest and tucked her feet under her skirts. “Thank you.”

“You have blisters.” Stannis said. “Should I get an ointment?”

“No,” Y/N murmured. She peeked at her toes and saw how red they were. She could feel the throbbing on her heels and ankles, too.

“You should have them made anew, or just toss them. This happened before.”

“Did it?” Y/N tried to remember the last time she wore the shoes. She faintly recalled that’s when Stannis carried her up the stairs to their apartment. Did she really wear these shoes back then? Maybe she kept them so he’d carry her again.

Stannis returned to her side, kneeling down again. He was so tall, they were still eye-to-eye. Not only did the candlelight make his blush more obvious, it made his blue eyes look nearly black. A pair of unfocused, lust-filled blue eyes flashed across her vision, and she squeezed one of the cold hairpins in her hand to focus. It was like night and day.

“You didn’t …” Stannis started to say, breaking Y/N out of her unpleasant memory. “You usually … say goodnight.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten, but not in an unpleasant way. True, she usually walked to his desk to kiss him hello, and then a goodnight once she was dressed down and ready for bed. She’d urge him into bed, since he was clearly exhausted … and she may or may not have had certain ulterior motives.

“I’m sorry, Stannis. I’m rather tired.” Y/N said. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and their noses brushed as she pulled away. Stannis closed his eyes, as if taking in her warmth and smell. A terrible thought occurred, if he could smell the alcohol and sweat and somehow, Robert.

Stannis frowned slightly. “Does your head trouble you?”

I bet he isn’t any good.

“Yes,” Y/N said quickly. “I … I don’t feel well.”

He doesn’t know what to do with a pretty thing like you.

She felt warm hands on her cheeks, then on her forehead. Stannis’ brow was furrowing in that way he always did, but instead of trying to solve ledgers and paperwork, he was puzzling over … her. Y/N’s cheeks warmed under that serious gaze, and she self-consciously looked away.

“I’ll fetch some water.” Stannis said, finally breaking the silence. It was clear he had more to say, but as always, his tongue ended up tied around her. By the time Stannis returned, Y/N was in her nightgown and nestled in bed. She hadn’t bothered to brush her hair out, or wash her face, which was so unlike her. With a frown, he set the water down and tucked her in. Perhaps she would feel better in the morning - and she’d wake to a good breakfast and a drawn bath.

Y/N felt just as disoriented and ugly waking up as she did falling asleep. She’d slept in far later than she had before, and opted to stay in the bedroom to nurse her hangover and lingering negative emotions. The handmaidens doted on her, spurred by Stannis’ concern - when she finally did wake, there was ointment, a hot bath and a large breakfast waiting for her.

When she next saw him, Y/N pretended she was better. It was easy to do that when her kisses and thankfulness were genuine. That made Stannis believe she really was better, that it was only a hangover, exhausting evening and bad shoes.

In time, Y/N could press that unpleasant night to the back of her mind. She could have never told Stannis because it would only cause trouble, and besides, what could he do? Robert was king. Nothing really happened. If she said anything, her friends would roll their eyes, insist it wasn’t that bad, or be openly jealous at having the attention of the king. She would pretend it was fine, and forget.

The rest of the courtiers wouldn’t do the same, however. There were whispers that grew into words. There were those who wanted gossip, those who had ill intent to begin with, those who were bored and wanted something new to gasp at. They all helped the words and rumors spread, and Y/N blocked them all out, taking refuge in her royal apartments. She never expected they’d reach Stannis; Usually he ignored the asinine gossip that spread around the Red Keep - the only thing that spread faster was the lover’s pox, he said. He never believed any of it, never even entertained listening to it.

Until he figured out what the handmaidens, knights, servants and lords and lords’ wives were tittering about. It was all the same thing.

For once, the young Baratheon didn’t think. He could barely see, let alone reason, with all the rage flowing through him. Anyone who saw him storm down the hall couldn’t deny he was a Baratheon. The anger in his blue eyes was like a summer hurricane.

He put all of his strength into throwing open the heavy doors to Robert’s private visiting chambers. All three of its occupants - Robert, Jon Arryn and Ser Jaime - startled from the abrupt noise. Jaime, who was normally quick to his sword, faltered when he saw who was the source of that noise.

Robert had already set down his drink. He wasn’t startled enough to drop it, but he did carelessly spill on the polished wood table. Robert anticipated something mundane wound up his little brother - taxes not adding up, maybe he forgot a meeting with a lord, something stupid like that. “Seven hells, Stannis, what’s got you fired up --”

“Keep your godsdamned hands to yourself, or I’ll cut them off!”

Robert nearly choked on his tongue, and Lord Arryn almost joined him. The old man was normally so quick to settle his former ward’s temper, but he hadn’t ever seen the same kind of wrath in Stannis. His mind was rushing for words to calm the man, but Jaime responded with action. The kingsguard stepped forward, his hand on his sword. “Is that a threat to your king, Lord Stannis?”

“What did it bloody sound like? Do I need to repeat myself?” Stannis’ teeth gritted. He didn’t even glance at Jaime.

Now it was Robert’s turn to flare his temper. “What the seven hell’s wrong with you, Stannis? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Lord Arryn stepped between Robert, who was now standing, and his brother. The only other thing between them was a long mahogany table, now looking as small and pitiful as driftwood. “Your Grace, Lord Stannis - please take a moment and compose yourselves. Ser Jaime, there’s no need for --”

“You’ll show respect to your older brother, and your king!”

“I won’t give anything to a drunken lecher that would interfere with my wife!”

Robert jumped to his feet, and for a second, Jaime was sure he’d throw the table. It wouldn’t be difficult for the giant of a man. At the same time, Stannis reached for his waist, and Robert reached for his shoulder… and in an instant they both realized they weren’t armed, and thank the gods for that. Jaime didn’t doubt the servants would be scrubbing Stannis’ guts off the floor for days.

“Enough!” Lord Arryn bellowed. Slight as he was, he could have a commanding voice. “This is madness! What is your grievance toward His Grace, Lord Stannis? Has something happened?”

“He would know.” Stannis said. “At the last feast -- you disrespected Y/N, and her honor. You treated her like one of your whores.”

Robert’s face flushed red, and it was Jaime’s guess if that was from anger, embarrassment or the wine he was drinking earlier. Jaime had heard such rumors himself, and more scandalous ones, but he didn’t put stock in them. Plenty worse was said about himself. His green eyes went to the old man - based off Lord Arryn’s grave expression, he might have heard more. He might know the truth. Jaime felt a sudden surge of anger toward the king, not the first time he’d felt this. Cersei will have far worse to say to him when she hears about this

“I didn’t go that far,” Robert tried to regain his voice and authority. “Damn you, Stannis, I wouldn’t lay a hand on her! I can't even remember the blasted feast ... I woke up half-sick in my room.”

His strong tone began to falter as Robert tried to replay the night in his mind. It was clear he couldn't - as usual, wine had muddled his memories. No one in the room expected Stannis to take that as a valid excuse. "You did interfere, you just don't remember. You're always drinking too much, whoring too much --"

"I'm king and I'll do as I damn well please!" Robert said defensively. "There's no bloody law saying a king can't drink or touch a woman!"

"If the next one you touch is Y/N, I'll take care of you myself.”

Threats often lost their effect if you repeated them, but the words had a new menace with Stannis’ expression attached to them. His eyes could have been glaciers, and a chill settled upon the room as the three men remembered this is the man who often cut the hands of thieves and gelded rapists. He outlasted the Tyrell siege, and cut the fingers of the smuggler who helped him survive it. It was not that Stannis was a butcher, but he was fierce in what he thought was just, and he had the unyielding drive to see it done.

Lord Arryn was the first to break the cold spell that set upon them. He stepped forward, putting a hand gingerly on Stannis’ shoulder. The younger man didn’t flinch, but he didn’t look, either. Lord Arryn said with a low voice, “Let us speak outside, Lord Stannis. Please.”

The brothers stared each other down, and for the first time since knowing the King, Jaime watched him falter. His great shoulders sagged just slightly, and his eyebrows knit together. Robert wanted to say something, but finding the words was the problem. Jaime didn’t understand why until he finally spoke.

“Stannis, I… ... I don’t remember a thing, I swear it. I wouldn’t have done anything to your Y/N.”

The Kingslayer blinked. He’d never heard regret in Robert’s voice, and he wouldn’t hear it for some time. Lord Arryn was not surprised, only relieved.

Stannis was the implacable one. This didn’t satisfy him, not in the slightest. The oldest Baratheon had always done as he pleased, regardless of the consequences. He expected others to nod their heads and follow along, if they weren’t already encouraging him. So many did that, blind to the consequences Robert was dragging them into. This was just another slight he paid to his own brother, but Stannis felt this one especially hard. Of all the women in the Red Keep, Robert had to disrespect his -

No, it wasn’t right to refer to Y/N that way. She was not property, Stannis would never refer to her as that, nor should anyone. He was thinking of the other sense of the word, the other way to belong to someone. That way was far more binding than any marriage, and as illogical and senseless as it was, Stannis wanted it. This latest stint of Robert’s drunken foolishness made him realize if Y/N wanted anyone, she could have them. She was beautiful of course, but she had that wit, that intellect, that capacity to understand others and help them understand her. In the months they’d been married, he’d found himself relaxing in her presence, then being comforted by it, then actively wanting it. Desiring it.

Stannis bristled at the intrusive thoughts, but they were the truth. He hadn’t the slightest idea what she thought of him, if she was only performing and giving him the support expected of a wife, if she’d do this with any husband she’d been arranged to marry. He never had the nerve to ask. He couldn’t ask, fearing the answer.

Suddenly, he felt the old man’s hand squeeze his shoulder, and Stannis finally looked at Lord Arryn’s steady face. Calm as it was, his eyes were entreating Stannis to say something, or better, to leave it all behind. He realized he’d been silent for some time. They wanted him to forget all about it, like he should forget about Storm’s End and Dragonstone. Stannis grit his teeth, ignoring the shot of pain that went up his jaw. There was nothing he could say that would get through to his stubborn aurochs of an older brother.

“Just stay away from her,” He managed to say, his voice bouncing off the mostly empty chambers. He didn’t bother to say any more, or close the double doors as he left.

On any other day, Stannis made a point to walk carefully through the Red Keep. Unpopular as he was, his presence and reputation was still important to the throne. He and Robert were young, and usurpers, besides. They had to be careful. These Kingslanders were a nest of serpents, and there was no telling which was a viper and which was a garden snake.

But he couldn’t control the way his shoes echoed off the stone walls, or how he outright glared at any guard to get out of his way. He was still too thin, but there was no mistaking the anger in that tall body. He was taller than most of them, and he could appear as fierce as Robert when his temper finally rose.

Y/N. He had to see her, he had to talk to her. Gods, he should have as soon as he heard those disgusting rumors, but all he could think of was her and Robert, laughing, drinking, his arms around her - no, Stannis wouldn’t go there. Just the faintest imaginings hurt him more than he thought possible. He caught himself before he entered their shared apartment. He didn’t want to frighten Y/N by barging in, and he ought to collect himself. It wasn’t right to act like this in front of her.

Stannis took a deep breath and tried to unclench his jaw, like she always told him, but it was already aching. He rubbed at it absently and stepped inside, trying to steady his pounding heart.

It didn’t work. Y/N was sitting right there, relaxing on cushions at the large bay window.

He’d noticed she liked sitting there, so he had several cushions brought in to make it more comfortable. Her long linen dress was spread across them, and he could clearly see the outline of her curled up legs. One of the straps of the dress was drooping off her shoulder. When Y/N looked up from her book, she adjusted the strap. She smiled at him, looking better than she had that night. “Are you already finished with the small council?”

Stannis just thought she was tired that evening, or she had drunk too much. Knowing the truth, the guilt hit him at once. Why hadn’t she said anything? What did she think he would do, or wouldn’t do? Did she not trust him?

Before any more intrusive thoughts could surface and hurt him even further, he blurted, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N’s smile froze. “What are you talking about?” She asked.

“Robert. He interfered with you that night. You never told me.”

Stannis hadn’t meant it as an accusation, but as usual, he misspoke. Y/N’s face filled with anxiety, then fear. The book fell from her hands and slid to her lap.

“I-I … I wasn’t trying to hide anything, I just - he was drunk, so I thought it was best to forget…”

No, this wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to frighten her like this. Stannis hated that expression on Y/N, one he’d never seen before, and one he caused. He crossed the room in a few steps, and his heart broke further when she leaned back.

“I talked to Robert,” He said, trying to explain, but that didn’t help. He may have made things worse. Damn it all, why couldn’t he talk to Y/N properly? Why did his chest have to seize and his senses have to leave? “I told him if he touches you again, I’ll remove his hands.”

“You didn’t!”

Stannis took her wrists and carefully, gently, trying to express something he couldn’t articulate. It was months of confusing thoughts and even more confusing feelings, and he was ruining it. What if she never smiled at him, or touched him again? What if she stayed afraid and wary?

“He’ll never touch you again, I swear it. I should have been there to protect you, and I wasn’t. I … I should have been with you, as a husband. I failed that.”

He moved his hands to her own, and as badly as he wanted to entwine their fingers, he didn’t think he deserved it. He always gave everything he had, he always put duty first, but it was only fitting he’d fail this one. He hadn’t the slightest idea how to handle women, how to talk to them or approach them, although Y/N was something else entirely. He was poor with people, he knew that, but this was his wife, and there was no excuse -

“Oh, Stannis,” Y/N said softly, that voice breaking him from his thoughts entirely. He looked at her painted lips, then her eyes, which had lost that fear. “Is that what you think?”

He wasn’t sure what she meant. “It’s the truth.”

“No, it isn’t. You didn’t fail anything.” Y/N wove their fingers together, squeezing his hands, and he thought his heart jumped into his throat from just that gesture. “You don’t control Robert. No one does. It’s just like him to do something like that, isn’t it?”

“But, I should have protected you -”

“By dueling him in front of everyone? Creating a scene at a feast?” Y/N asked, and before he could give a blunt answer she added, “He’s the king, Stannis, and we both know his… appetites. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been some other girl, and … and it wasn’t so terrible as they all say…”

Stannis grit his teeth, tightening his grip on Y/N’s hands. “He shouldn’t, it’s unbecoming of a king, and besides that, it was still too much. Even a lecherous word is too much. You’re my -”

Mine.

“- my wife, and a lady of the Baratheon house.”

Y/N’s strap had fallen again, and her expressions still troubled, but he would take that over fear. Stannis reached out and fixed it, his fingers brushing across her warm skin. Y/N also reached out, but she pressed her thumb between his furrowed eyebrows. Stannis flinched back.

“Don’t wear that face,” She said softly. “I’ll be alright. I need time, and I’ll forget.”

“I won’t forget.”

“I know.” Y/N’s hand cradled his face, the same thumb stroking his cheek. Stannis releasing a hard breath. Just a simple touch and meeting her gaze was enough to bring the nerves back. He hated it, but he wouldn’t pull away, not even when Y/N kissed him. It was slow, and when she parted she said, “I know you would have protected me.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. Stannis glanced away. He noticed the strap had fallen again. “Y-You should have that fitted,” He said, fixing the offending thing. "It's too loose."

"Is it truly bothering you?”

"Yes."

Y/N giggled a little, and that was enough. He didn’t know how to make her laugh, so he was pleased when he did it by accident. She wiggled her shoulders so both straps slipped off, and with them, a little of her dress slipped down. “This fixes it, I think.”

Like she anticipated, Stannis' ears went red. He probably just realized that from his kneeling position, he was near eye level with her breasts. Pointedly trying to avoid looking was just making him more obvious.

Y/N squeezed his fingers and tugged Stannis forward. After a moment's hesitation, he shifted his position and sat on the cushions beside her. She wouldn't let go of his hand, so he leaned in, resting his head on her bare shoulder. Her skin was warm from sitting beside the window, and there was the distinct perfume she always wore. He could only smell it when he was this close, and it was oddly exciting, like a secret that only he knew. He listened to her faint pulse, how it matched with his breath as he rested on her shoulder. It reminded him of when they were intimate, when their chests were pressed together and their hearts beats were two separate sounds, trying to beat in tandem. She'd hold his hand then, like she did now.

That biting thought he had just minutes ago, that feeling of failure and confusion, was beginning to fade. It was difficult to feel like he'd done wrong when Y/N's fingers were trailing down his back. His tunic kept him from feeling them against his bare skin, but he knew that would change shortly. The anticipation of that spurred him on, pushing aside the last nagging anxieties.

While he kissed her neck, she sighed and curved her body against him, making him realize how cramped the bay window seat was. Y/N pulled on him again, and he followed her instruction. They ended up pressed against each other on the floor, lost in kisses and embraces. Y/N had lifted her leg up and let her dress fall down, and damned if his immediate reaction wasn’t stroking her bare thigh and squeezing it.

Y/N’s lips parted and she whined against him. “Stannis - wait, I meant to … I want to tell you something.”

“Hm?” He stopped his hand from trailing up any further. He felt like he had a fever, but fevers were never this pleasant.

“Did you - did you hear the talk about… Some of them were saying that I’m unhappy with you. That you bore me, or ignore me, or some such like that.”

Stannis frowned. He’d heard such things even before this mess, and didn’t understand why she brought it up. Y/N’s soft hands slid up his now wrinkled tunic and she gave him several light kisses as she continued, “I don’t ever want you to take those words to heart. You make me very happy, more than I ever thought I would be. I swear it, by your gods and mine.”

Her eyes were dazzling then, the sun from the window reflecting from them, and something else making them shine like stars. It was tears, he realized, though they didn’t fall to her cheeks. Stannis would’ve believed her without the swear, he’d believe her if she said even a fraction of those words, if those eyes shone even a little duller. She wrapped her arms around him, bringing their bodies even closer together, and gave him several breathless kisses.

The aching inside him was so strong, it was dizzying. When they parted from a longer kiss, Y/N asked, “Are you well?”

“No,” He said instantly, because he could swear he was having a heart attack. His chest was squeezing together like a giant was stepping on it, but it wasn’t … painful. “No, I am - I am well. And I am happy - with you, Y/N.” His words came out short, his mouth trying to keep up with the thoughts racing across his mind.

That seemed inadequate, but she smiled all the same. For the hundredth time he wondered if Y/N could read his thoughts. She leaned in for a kiss, and yelped in surprise as he swept her into his arms and stood up.

“Stannis! What are you -?”

“I’m not taking you on the bloody floor,” He muttered. The room had plush rugs and wood in lieu of rough stone and rushes, but it was still a floor, as far as he was concerned. “You deserve more than that. ...I want to give you more than that.”

“Oh?” Y/N grinned. She nuzzled his neck and kissed it, which only tightened his grip. “Show me how much you’ll give.”

She anticipated the flinch when she grasped his shoulders, and the quivering when she ran her hands down his bare back. When her arms wrapped across his torso and she pressed her cheek against his back, she could hear his heart thumping, like a dog's happy tail hitting the floor.

Y/N grinned at that, and softly giggled when Stannis tried to worm away. She understood it was nothing against her; he was antsy about too much affection, and she was certain the past hour was far beyond his limit.

One last kiss, then. She pressed her lips against the nap of his neck. "Are you needing something, my husband?"

"Tunic," Stannis mumbled. His pants were already on, but Y/N was shamelessly making the rest of the dressing difficult. His tall legs were swung over the bed, but Y/N was still clinging on, and he could feel every inch of her warm, naked embrace.

"Ah, yes, how forgetful of me." Y/N reached behind her, fetched the tunic from the mangle of sheets, and handed it to him. She promptly went back to her hug from behind.

Stannis grunted. "Y/N."

She was teasing too much, she knew. "Would you like some help? Those fasteners can be so tricky."

She just had to smile at the eye roll he gave her. It was times like this when Stannis acted his age: a young man in his twenties, with the dark circles under his eyes almost unnoticeable, and some flushed color on his skin. She hoped he was eating and sleeping better these days.

Y/N freed her prisoner and quietly watched him dress. Maybe another kind of man would stay in bed with her and laze the day away, but Stannis was not that sort, and she knew that. Personally, she wanted to stay in their apartments and avoid more social obligations. Her mind wandered to the rumors that surrounded them, that ugly reality breaking into this idyllic late afternoon.

At some point, Stannis had finished and was standing beside the bed. Y/N smiled and pulled on his hand, bringing him closer. Stannis only mildly resisted and asked again, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm well," Y/N replied. She entwined her fingers in his and kissed his palm. “Very well.”

Stannis flushed all over again. He hesitated, then leaned in and kissed his wife’s brow in return. “Whenever that isn’t the case, I want you to tell me.”

Looking down on her from that angle, with her hair splayed around her shoulders, the light from the window warming her skin and highlighting every curve. His throat felt dry, but he was pleased to hear her say, “I will.”

Stannis only nodded, but lingered like something was anchoring him. It was an uncomfortable ache that hit suddenly, even if he was ready to leave just minutes ago. He made it to the doorway, but glanced back. Y/N stood from the bed and swept one of her thin robes around her body. He could still see the outline of her legs and curves as she tied it tight. She glanced over her shoulder, strands of her hair falling from her shoulder to her back.

“You’re staring.” She teased. “Didn’t you have important work to do?”

There was always work to do, always some sort of duty to attend to. This was a duty in itself, keeping his wife happy and ensuring she was respected. He’d make sure those foul rumors were dispelled, one way or another. Still, it was strange for “duty” to be this … pleasant. This warm and safe. Stannis crossed the room to give her one last goodbye - a squeeze of the hand, and a promise to return - and he left.

#stannis baratheon x reader #got x reader #pls picture young stannis #still scrawny #already starting to lose his hair #downing coffee like hes 35 and stuck in a midlevel corporate job #libra fics

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alliluyevas · 4 years ago

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JAIMEPOSTING PART NUMBER WHATEVER: the white book

This is one of my absolute favorite chapters! Sorry for not getting it up yesterday as I had said, I had to make an emergency target run (in case anyone was eagerly hanging on my every word lol)

love the detail about Jaime sleeping in one of the little kingsguard bedrooms for the past 18 years. It really drives home something that I’ve thought about a lot with Jaime, and that’s how stagnant and isolated his life has been prior to the beginning of his chapters in ASOS. He has been in the same “job” since he was a young teenager, his only romantic experience is an extremely dysfunctional hidden relationship that’s been pretty much lifelong, he has almost no relationship with his biological children, he has very few friends or social contacts outside of his family. (I think Addam Marbrand is virtually the only person he thinks of as a friend, and he’s known him since he was a little kid, so again there’s just been very little change in his life. Until now.) and consequently Jaime comes off as extremely immature for his chronological age which totally makes sense given what his life has looked like until now.

Love the details about his Kingsguard clothing fitting weirdly on him, and about him quietly watching Tyrion’s trial and speculating that Tyrion either didn’t see him or didn’t recognize him. “I am a stranger in my own house” UGH!!!

Also I definitely want to point out that the men of the Kingsguard refer to themselves as brothers so there’s a kind of symmetry there with the familial language.

THIS passage is one of my favorites of the whole series, I love it so much. “And me, that boy I was, when did he die, I wonder?” UGH.

Again here’s what I’m talking about with Jaime starting to realize how empty and stagnant his life has been in many respects. And also he doesn’t think as much about this because again like I’ve said before Jaime likes to think of himself as an active agent of his own fate but another thing that’s been a constant of his life in many respects is passivity, being a bystander, letting other people tell him what to do and control his fate (I mean, on some level as a Kingsguard his life is supposed to be about following orders!) and I think his arc in ASOS is a lot about him learning to stand on his own two feet and make his own choices and own his own actions.

And with his reflection on the fight with the Kingswood Brotherhood, I think it’s telling that a lot of the major events of Jaime’s life, both the ones that he’s proud of and the ones that he’s traumatized by, took place when he was a teenager because part of him is still stuck there and I think he’s kind of starting to realize this now, that it’s really messed up that what he perceives as kind of his greatest military victory was something that happened when he was 15, even if he still looks at it nostalgically. I mean, the last thing recorded in the book for him is something that happened when he was 17 and then there’s just nothing for the last half of his life.

As I’m getting into the Kingsguard content, especially thinking about how Jaime is always thinking about how this current Kingsguard doesn’t match up to the one he joined as a boy, I want to cap off this passage by saying that I think Jaime’s continued idealization of Aerys’s Kingsguard is really misguided. It’s understandable, but it’s misguided. I think it is a black mark on the records of all these noble knights that the only person who did anything about Aerys was the literal teenage hostage and also when Jaime tried to voice misgivings about Aerys before that he was basically told to repress his morality and follow orders. Especially with Barristan Selmy seeing as he’s the only other one who’s still alive, I think the fact that he’s totally bought into the villainization of Jaime for killing Aerys is really fucked up. Fascinating, and understandable given his character, but I do think he should get off his high horse with regards to Jaime and I think Jaime’s belief that the other Kingsguard were better or more knightly than him is a flawed one.

Okay Kingsguard time!

Don’t have a lot to comment on with Jaime’s interactions with Boros Blount or Osmund Kettleblack. Did lol at him being like “where the hell did cersei even find this guy” with Kettleblack though.

get his ass Jaime! Also again like. He is very much acting out of his experience here with Aerys.

obsessed! Balon Swann is definitely one of the less shady members of the current Kingsguard and I do think that Jaime respects him to a degree, but the sheer awkwardness of “I swear i shall not do as you did” is so sublime. Again I love how the specter of Jaime’s actions during Aerys’s reign just hangs over all of these interactions now, it’s great.

OBSESSED with this scene. I really do love Jaime and Loras’s interactions but this is just so funny! Jaime “nearly threw hands with a 13 year old” Lannister. Also him thinking about how Tyrion would laugh :(

oh loras. Baby :(( love how this conversation kind of makes Jaime soften on Loras too.

I’m running out of image space in this post but I love the bit where Jaime is defending Brienne and trying to convince loras she didn’t kill renly. Ugh!

absolutely love this bit. Perfectly emo but also that last line about Boros is so funny.

#this is long as hell but i ADORE this chapter. jaime's kingsguard feelings are like. slurp #asoiaf reread #asoiaf meta #jaime lannister

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kiraziwrites · 4 years ago

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J/B Smut Swap Recs

Okay, I’m still stumbling toward the finish line in my effort to read and comment on all the glorious banging in the @jb-smut-swap exchange by 9:00 AM tomorrow—but I’m going to go ahead and post this rec list now, just in case I don’t manage to get to them all before the author reveals.

I kept trying—and failing—to narrow this list down, so I’m keeping these brief. See below the fold for some of my favorites, awarded by category. In no particular order:

My favorite sex bruises fic: my wonderful gift, a grip so tight i couldn’t tear it apart (I’ll do a proper post linking & thanking the author tomorrow!) with an honorable mention to crosslines, the scratches and stains. I love how these both managed to take the same prompt in different directions, one focused on the pleasure of flaunting marks as proof of the relationship, the other on savoring them as a hidden, exciting secret.

My favorite first-time fic: Thrust Exercises. I would adore this for the invention of strip-sparring alone (and the joyfully thotty Jaime) but it’s also the perfect balance of hot, funny, and tender. I think it’s probably my favorite wedding-night fic for these two ever.

My favorite prose: we used to wait. This fic is moody and atmospheric and has an incredible sense of place—the smut and story are great too, but I was captured by the way the experience of reading it felt almost cinematic.

My favorite clothing-porn fic: This has got to be a tie between Clothes (un)Make the Man and Light My Fire, both of which are sizzling explorations of how garments can be as hot—or even hotter—than full nakedness.

My favorite feelings in the porn-with-feelings: with those who know secret things. Look, everyone else has already rec’d this one, and I don’t need to tell you why. It’s a masterpiece of characterization-via-sexual encounter, and also my favorite use of dom/sub elements in the exchange.

My favorite threesome fic: Second Chances. This is a fic as much about anticipating sex as it is about having it, and the crackling tension between Brienne, Jaime, and Addam was as much a pleasure to read about as its eventual realization. (All the threesome fics were great, though—honorable mention to I’ll never let you go (if you promise not to fade away) for making the tricky premise of Jaime/Brienne/Cersei work so well.)

My favorite use of a sex toy: what is dark in me illumine. Okay, there’s a lot more to this one than just the vibrating butt plug, but whew did I enjoy the vibrating butt plug (and everything else about this, from the sexual implications of Jaime’s supernatural abilities to the perfect union of worldbuilding and characterization).

My favorite blowjob: Nights Avoiding Things Unholy. My comments on Discord may have badgered the author into adding a cock worship tag to this one, and I stand by that opinion—but the worship goes both ways, and the whole thing is 🔥.

My favorite use of temporality: Today Will Die Tomorrow. I loved the way this tender, searing look at a first-time on the verge of apocalypse modulated back and forth between two moments in the same evening, until they came together with a bang (just like Jaime and Brienne).

My favorite banter: Binary Explosive. I could read these two talk (and fuck) for another 5000 words. The electricity between them here leaps off the page, and not just because they’re literally wired to a bomb.

My favorite sex in a body of water: Apart, Together, Together Apart. There’s a lot more to this lovely, tender post-canon fic than just the waterfall scene, but as a Jaime x Brienne x Baths aficionado, I’m awarding it for that part alone.

My favorite dirty talk: Good Long Line of Praises. The smut swap features many terrific explorations of Jaime being mouthy (in every sense of the word) but I especially loved this fic for flipping the script and focusing on what Brienne has to say once she realizes just how much of a praise kink he’s got.

My favorite pegging fic: what you'd do to me tonight. Okay, technically the only pegging fic, but I’m always going to go for Brienne bending Jaime over a desk, and I love the easy, comfortable, happily-married (but still horny) vibes in this.

#j/b smut swap #jaime x brienne #there was so much great stuff in this exchange #and I still have a handful of fics to go!

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alinaastarkov · 4 years ago

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Honestly, like ... it's funny cause I actually liked Sophie before Season 8 aired, because I wasn't paying that much attention to her and her behavior outside the show, you know? Other than Emilia and Kit's interviews I wasn't really following the any of the actors outside of the show. But after the finale aired and everything exploded and fell to pieces, it was like a magnifying glass was put on all of them for me. And then I saw the shit Sophie had been saying for YEARS. (1/?)

Like how it wouldn't be fair if Daenerys got the iron throne because she had dragons, that Daenerys couldn't have EvErYtHiNg - as if she was personally affronted that Daenerys was so popular. And it was the same with Arya! She was constantly saying Sansa was the best character (and like, ok, a lot of actors probably say that about their characters, fine), but also going on about how 'smart' Sansa was and complaining that she wasn't as popular as other female characters (2/?) because she didn't 'act like a man'.

Thank you so much for this long ask! To keep things organised, I am roughly going to answer this in sections.

I agree with you. I did not pay much attention to any of the cast really, and I’m still not hugely bothered about them. GOT is done and I rarely get invested in cast members. It’s characters I’m interested in. But I remember randomly coming across bts footage of the Jon/Arya hug from season 1, and I just fell in love with those two actors in particular, and I happened to see an interview with Emilia and adored her too. And that’s when I happened to see more of this cast and understand what they were like. But with the final season, and seeing pretty much everyone’s reactions that ranged from forced awkward laughter to straight up saying it sucked, it became incredibly obvious when any single person reacted positively. Even former cast members were saying it sucked, and celebrities not even involved were dragging it, so Sophie’s words on this topic (which I will touch on in a second) were put under a microscope, and subsequently everything she had said before was too. Her hatred for Dany was definitely fed to her by D&D, but there was definitely a jealousy about how other characters and actors were more popular than her. But her comments about female characters in general were so toxic.

I was even annoyed for a hot minute with Maisie too, because of all the shit she and Sophie said about Daenerys while promoting S8 (calling her power-hungry and saying she was worse than Cersei). BUT THEN. I noticed exactly what you said in an earlier post about Maisie going along with WHATEVER Sophie said. And when I re-watched those interviews it was always SOPHIE saying those shitty things, and Maisie just agreeing. (3/?) I even saw the interview you mentioned where Maisie kept changing her answers to match Sophie's. They're friendship comes off as really uneven and toxic, tbh, cause it felt like Sophie was CONSTANTLY running roughshod over Maisie.

Yeah, Maisie’s attitude initially seems off as well, especially with regard to Daenerys. But as you said, she never says this sort of thing in solo interviews, or interviews with other actors. It’s such a shame that there are so few without Sophie, so we rarely get to see what she’s like on her own. It would be one thing I suppose if Maisie gave similar answers to Sophie without much prompting, but she always has one answer, then Sophie speaks, and she changes it based on what she says. That really clearly shows you she is amending her behaviour to fit in with Sophie, which is not good. It does feel so uneven and I’ve had friendships like that and it took a while for me to cut them out. Once I did I felt much better. We obviously don’t know the ins and outs of their relationship, but it does feel very similar.

Sophie's also made uncomfortable comments dealing with racism in the past, she claims to be an advocate for mental health but then behaves abominably towards her castmates (4/?) (making insensitive comments about Kit's drinking during an interview, saying shit about Daenerys when she knows how much that could affect Emilia, etc.), the way she said she "loved" Sansa's rape scene because of how twisted it was, all that in addition to how she defended the show's final season (with it's STRONG xenophobic, isolationist undertones) even though she didn't even watch the last 2-3 episodes (5/?) - how she seemed so smug and happy about the (tone-deaf) ending, even seemed to be celebrating it when it was brought up in interviews (talk about not being able to read the room - seriously, everybody else seemed to realize it, and kept their mouths shut after the required promo period) - her history of sicking her fans on people who disliked Sansa/said anything negative about her on social media even when they didn't @ her (6/?)

Her comments about race and mental health always made me uncomfortable too. I was sympathetic to her struggle with mental health, but then she invalidates everyone else’s struggles and it just made me dislike her even more. You can’t be an advocate for mental health and then say stuff like that about other people. Those two things do not go together. You could see when she said that stuff about Kit’s drinking that, though the audience laughed, everyone in the cast including Kit gave awkward smiles and giggles to cover how uncomfortable they were because they didn’t want to make a scene. And the way she talks about other characters is disrespectful. These characters mean a lot to the people who play them, and she does not react well when people give the same back to her. It reminds of John Boyega and his comments about Reylo and Ben Solo especially, knowing how much his castmates, Adam and Daisy in particular, love the character and how much he means to them, and he went ahead and said those things anyway, fuelling his fans to be cruel to other fans. It’s not as bad as Sophie perhaps, but it’s just poor form when these people are supposed to be professional. Sophie’s comments about Sansa’s rape scene came straight from D&D’s mouth, but she has to be at least a little self-aware about how that sounds and how gross it is, especially when she loves it because of how gross it was. You don’t see Emilia defending Drogo, do you?

Her reaction to the ending was so telling because it was the single positive opinion in a sea of negativity. Everyone else, including people no longer in the show and celebrities who were never involved, hated it and called it out to varying degrees (there was still contracts to fulfill) for how tone-deaf and nonsensical it was, and there was the table-read were everyone was devastated, but Sophie was grinning the entire time. She liked the show because her character won in the end. Sophie is not a writer, and it’s obvious when she praises the writing of this show (and criticises others which had far fewer problems than this). She did not care how nonsensical and crass the rest of the show was, as long as her character ended up on top, and then went out of her way to criticise people who hated it. Other actors have done the same, but on top of everything else it’s not a good look. And don’t even get me started on her behaviour on social media. It’s gross and not something we can blame on someone else.

after all that, everything about her just reeks of this 'woe-is-me I'm so oppressed white feminist' bs. It makes it impossible for me to like her now. Like, I think I'm only 1-2 years older than her, I don't come from nearly as much privilege as she does, and she has all the resources in the world to be educating herself and improving herself but...I don't see anything resembling that kind of growth in her. (7/7)

Yeah I can only agree. I’m five years younger than her and you would never catch me acting the way she does. She’s 24, she’s an adult, and obviously early fame and the producers affected her, but at some point we can’t keep absolving her of blame. She could be educating herself and alleviating her own ignorance, but it seems like she’s just doubling down. Maisie has had the same troubling influence from an earlier age, and she is younger, but she is not acting this way. I’m not hugely into following actors’ lives as I said, but when this was brought to my attention it rubbed me the wrong way. I am perfectly fine to ignore her as best I can, but I don’t have to like her. You don’t have to like celebrities if they’re not great people, and I don’t like her. And I’m glad the show is over so her castmates can go on to bigger and better things and leave that toxic environment the show created behind.

#anti got #anti d&d #neve has mail #anti sophie turner

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j-morgan-fly · 4 years ago

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Snow melts to water

“Ah, so it was the Bastard of Driftmark then?” said Petyr, eyes intent on the delicate wisps of silver blond atop her son’s head. She had refused to name the man that had gotten her with child, the lover she had taken while married to Tyrion.

She had not the courage in her heart or the strength of mind to give her body to Tyrion, a Lannister. She didn’t care anymore about much, especially not after the death of her mother and brother and there he was, on the docks, handsome and charming, gazing at the sea like it was a long lost lover and Sansa decided to seduce him, to throw caution to the wind, to forsake all honor and duty.

She wanted to pretend she was someone else, someone free and Aurane Waters gave that to her. He rocked into her body like waves rocking against a boat, he hands caressed her like the lapping of water on a soft, sandy shore. He took her maidenhead in a secret cove just below the Godswood, the tide washing away the blood and there had been sand sticking to her arse cheeks and thighs when it was over. It was odd and uncomfortable and it was completely her choice and she loved it. She also made sure it was not the last time.

Shae had helped find them places to meet. It was dangerous, more so for Aurane if they were caught as the Lannister’s still needed her, for it was through her womb they would have the North but Sansa would never let that happen. She would sooner jump from the window of her room if she was ever truly forced to carry a Lannister child. Yet he did not seem to mind, he never spoke of the risks, of any fear he had for his life by meeting with her, and Sansa never brought it up. She didn’t want to ruin what they had.

They made no declarations of love, no promises to one another, they simply enjoyed the pleasure of their unions. That did not mean that was all there was. They talked, sometimes before, sometimes after about the most inconsequential things. Aurane told her about sea life, Sansa described the North to him. They spoke of their childhoods briefly. They were so different, him being a bastard and her a highborn lady, so they never lingered on that subject long. Sometimes Aurane would let her braid his long, beautiful hair. He laughed when he told her that apparently queen Cersei thought he looked like Rhaegar Targaryen.

“She thinks I desire her,” he continued to chuckle then looked at her, green-blue eyes smoldering. “If I did, would that make you jealous?”

Sansa had thought on it, trying to ignore the tiny pang in her heart at the thought of Aurane touching queen Cersei, bringing him to their secret cove and making love to her on the beach as he did her.

“No,” she lied, bending over to pick up a seashell. He came up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, lips on the back of her neck, member against her rear.

“You won’t scare me away by admitting you would be jealous,” he told her, breath hot on the shell of her ear. “It won’t make me lose my interest in you,”

Sansa had moaned, letting her head fall back on his shoulder. He was one of the few men taller than her. “Why are you interested in me?”

She looked at him, eyes so very blue, as blue as the sunset sea her father once said. “Is it that I’m a married woman that entices you? That I was a maid when you first had me?”

“Perhaps it’s for same reason I am the one you chose. Out of the countless squires, the dishonorable knights, petty lords, you came to me. Asked me to play that funny little game with you, made that little story up about a scoundrel that stole away a beautiful lady and had his way with her on his ship to seduce me.” he kissed a line across her shoulder. “Of all the men who would love to have their way with you, you chose a bastard to come onto. I could have turned you in for attempt of adultery and asked to be legitimized, to be given a title and lands,”

“So could a highborn,” she hummed. “There is always something people want,”

“You didn’t really answer my question,” she smirked at him, eyes playful but not pushing.

“And what entices you about me?” he turned the question on her as he nibbled on the shell of her ear, sending shivers up and down her spine, to her toes that curled in the sand.

“I thought you looked as lonely as I felt when you stared at the sea. And then how handsome you were, how quietly charming” she sighed and then gasped a little when he started to hike up her skirt to get to her woman’s place. He liked to finger her until she was a quivering mess and her legs were too weak for her to stand on her own. “And I wanted to forget, to imagine I was a different person and it’s easier to do with you,”

“Because I’m a bastard?” he asked without bitterness or resentment, just continuing his journey up her leg.

“Yes,” she said. “Does that bother you?” “Not when it brought you to me,” it was perhaps the most romantic thing he had ever said to her.

All too soon it came to an end. Joffrey’s wedding day arrived and Sansa had near forgotten about Ser Donto’s gift, that she was supposed to wear it at the wedding, that he promised to take her away. Something told her not to wear it, that she had found some happiness at last but she could never have a life with Aurane and one day soon when she didn’t give the Lannister’s what they wanted it would be forced from her. Aurane wouldn’t be able to save her from that. No one would. Not if she stayed. She didn’t know what would happen or when but Ser Dontos had been specific in that she must wear the jewelry to the wedding. So she put the amethysts on.

Sansa would never have expected how things would unfold. The gurgling and wheezing sounds Joffrey made as he died, the blood pouring from his eyes and nose, the shade of purple his face turned as he swelled up. The hand wrapping around her wrist and pulling her away. For a moment she hoped when she turned she would see Aurane, but of course it wasn’t him, he was far, far back in the garden with the lesser guests. No, it was Ser Donto’s.

Soon enough she learned the truth of the amethysts, the greed of Ser Donto’s, of the length of Petyr’s love for her mother as he took her away to the Eyrie. She realized soon after she was pregnant. Petyr had pressured her to take Moon Tea, and she had tried to hide the truth from her aunt. When she learned about Sansa’s condition she assumed it was Petyr’s, she had accused her once before and Sansa had lied that she was still a virgin, scared her aunt would send her away, ashamed of her dishonor. Then Lysa went mad, she tried to throw her out the moon door before Lord Baelish intervened. He pushed her aunt out the moon door instead, he blamed the bard and Sansa went on pretending to be Lord Baelish’s bastard daughter with a bastard of her own in her belly.

“Yes,” Sansa confirmed, not that there were many other men she could have been with that would have sired a babe with such Valyrian features.

“And the boy’s name?” He asked her. She could sense well-hidden irritation and anger with her for having seen her pregnancy through rather than ridding her belly of the child as he had advised her.

“Alyn,” she tells him, kissing the babes soft head.

#Something I started and never finished #wip #aurane water #sansa stark #rare pair #aurane x sansa #one shot #got #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire

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blurrypetals · 4 years ago

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Better Together by Christine Riccio - blurrypetals review

originally posted feb. 3, 2021 - ★☆☆☆☆

An ARC was provided by NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. How to begin! This is my first ARC and, after nearly 6 years of reviewing every book I read, I was excited for the opportunity to read something in advance. I am still very excited! It is a really wonderful privilege to be able to read a book that isn't out yet. It was not, however, a privilege to read this book. This book was―and I cannot stress this enough―bad. While I didn't like Christine Riccio's first effort, Again, But Better, it still had some structure to it that made sense and, even if I didn't like it, it still had things about it where I could see why others might enjoy it, which is why I rated it a 2 of 5 and called it done. I didn't loathe Again, But Better but I did loathe Better Together. If this hadn't been baby's first ARC, I would not have finished this book. I usually never finish books I dislike as much as this unless they are so bad that they become funny. This couldn't even get to that point, this was just plain bad. This book was painful. One thing that kicked things off in a really poor fashion was Riccio's inability to distinguish the two girls' inner voices from one another. I was constantly having to thumb back to the top of a chapter just to check if it was a Siri or a Jamie chapter. And okay, yes, let's talk about names, shall we? I really hated the name Pilot Penn in Again, But Better but Riccio really had to outdo herself when she legitimately, actually, really named her two main characters after Jamie and Cersei Lannister from Game of Thrones. This is something that is acknowledged in the text because the parents are mega freaks for Game of Thrones, and Riccio attempts to play it for laughs, but I'm sorry, there is no parent in the world, especially not people who are actually fans of those characters, who would legitimately name two siblings after the world's most famous incestuous siblings, and the fact that Riccio had the idea for it and kept it in is honestly a bit troubling. The dual POV from each girl does make sense thematically, but functionally, it does very little to serve the story, as both girls are going through such a similar journey that the book goes through the same lessons twice, making the book twice as long as it needs to be. I would have preferred Again, But Better as dual POV over this. There is so much time dedicated at the beginning toward Jamie and Siri being just soOOooOO dIfFeReNt that it was pretty painful from the start, especially with the lack of proper distinctive voices between the sisters' inner monologues. Not only are we basically given a laundry list of reasons why these girls are such opposites, but nobody talks like a real person in this book, least of all our main characters. Jamie swears like a sailor, but they're cute, colorful swears that nobody in real life would use! How different! Siri refuses to swear, instead using the word excrement instead of shit or intercourse instead of fuck. Again, this is played as a way to supposedly show how different the sisters are, but instead it only proves they do the same "look how quirky!" B.S. and it does nothing to endear the reader to them, only proving they are cartoon caricatures of caricatures, nowhere close to being relatable or interesting. So, let's get into the basic plot and setup, shall we? This book bills itself as an homage to Freaky Friday and The Parent Trap. How do I know this? Not only is that listed on the inside flap (which is fine, I'd like to establish; there's nothing wrong with listing your comps on the inside flap) but it's repeated multiple times in the text that the girls are in the middle of a Parent Trap-Freaky Friday situation. I don't know about you guys, though, but when I'm reading an homage to something, I really don't love it when the characters announce they are in the middle of an homage and then say the title of the thing the homage is to. I think Christine has a pop culture problem. Her whole life is centered around the things she watches, reads, and listens to. That's okay, so is mine! There's nothing wrong with that, in my opinion. There is, however, a problem with dragging constant pop culture references into your writing. Timothée Chalamet plays a weirdly large role here for some reason. I do not care to ever hear a Game of Thrones reference in anything ever again, because this has enough of them to cover me for the rest of my life. We also get Billie Eilish, Men in Black, and a plethora of other things here that only serve to make the reference to the thing and leave, adding nothing to the story and leaving me groaning in its wake. It's nowhere near as bad as it was in Again, But Better but it's still pretty bad here. Using a pop culture reference is not always a lazy choice; sometimes it can build your setting or show something your character is interested in, but rather than referencing something real, Christine could instead use her creativity to create a new, different show that the girls' parents were into, making all those constant Game of Thrones references feel more original and important to the story, rather than pulling a random bluray off her shelf and calling it good. I'd like to challenge Christine to write a book with no pop culture references. She may not be able to help herself. Speaking of laziness, the magic in this book feels particularly lackluster, even in comparison to the sorry excuse for magic in Again, But Better and, even before the magic begins, the girls are already planning to do a regular non-magical Parent Trap because they look so similar, so when the magic is introduced, it doesn't do much for the story. The girls also don't seem to learn much while in one another's shoes, making the justification for the magic feel entirely non-existent. There's also some weird business with glitter and sneezing that feels like a little too much in a post-COVID era, honestly. All in all, this was an extremely painful experience. I honestly have no idea how this book made it to this stage in the state it's in. It's extremely poorly written, pointless, and is filled to the brim with cringe, flat characters, and poor excuses for standup comedy routines. I really was willing to give Christine a chance to improve as a writer from her altogether lame debut, but unfortunately this only somehow proved to be worse.

#better together #christine riccio #again but better #2021 #arc #goodreads mirror #blurrypetals

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ladyxanatos · 6 years ago

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It matters why Daenerys is “crazy”

My thoughts about last night’s episode of Game of Thrones are many and a jumble, so I’m going to do my best to sort through them with the limited spoons I have on hand.

Firstly, I’m not going to talk about whether or not Mad Queen Dany is OOC. I feel like that’s kind of beyond the point. It’s not about whether this turn for her character makes sense or has been supported by the narrative so far; it’s about the very different way this narrative has been treating Daenerys Targaryen as opposed to her male counterparts.

Jon Snow losing his sh*t at having his baby brother murdered in front of him and charging recklessly into the Bolton forces, throwing his army into disarray, and resulting in the deaths of thousands is framed by the narrative as justified. He even gets bailed out of his unsound tactical decision by the last minute arrival of his sister’s cavalry.

They storm the castle of Winterfell, their ancestral home, and Jon in a wild-eyed rage pummels Ramsay Bolton senseless. He stops just short of killing Ramsay...so that later Sansa can feed Ramsay (alive and fully conscious) to his own hounds.

This is framed as a victory for the Good Guys. We, the audience, are not meant to condemn Jon in the slightest. Ramsay is a tyrant after all, he’s done terrible things, and the North needs to be saved from his tyranny at all costs. (And those costs are HIGH, even though the narrative completely glosses over them.)

But something funny happens when Daenerys Targaryen is on a quest to free the land of a tyrant and take back her ancestral home at all costs. The narrative turns on her so fast it gets whiplash.

Dany reaching her rage breaking point after watching the brutal deaths of two of her children, her most trusted advisor dying in her arms, and her best friend being murdered in front of her is framed as insanity. Dany is not justified in her rage; she is condemned for it. (I’m not arguing over moral authority here, or whether or not she should be condemned. I’m pointing out the double standard in how the narrative handles male and female rage.)

Dany storming King’s Landing and plowing through thousands of extras to reach Cersei in order to kill this tyrant at whatever cost is framed as horrific (which it is, but again I’m not concerning myself with moral arguments; I’m focusing exclusively on uneven narrative framing). Suddenly we’re very concerned with the nameless extras on the ground getting crushed and burned alive. Where was this concern when it was guys doing this, though?

And sure, Dany deciding to destroy the city before destroying the Red Keep, instead of just flying straight to the Red Keep, is horrific.

But so was the sack of King’s Landing during Robert’s Rebellion and yet Robert, who was a terrible king, bankrupt the realm, abused his wife, was complicit in the murder of the Targaryen children (or at least did nothing about it), and started a rebellion that got thousands killed ‘cause he was too much of a manbaby to accept that the girl he wanted didn’t want him back, does not receive the kind of villain framing that Dany is getting. In fact, Robert is framed as tragically sympathetic.

What worries me is that GoT is showing male rage and violence as justified, whereas it frames female rage and violence as insanity. This is just another in a long line of narratives opining that women having emotional responses to things, and especially if they also wield more power than men (that distinction is important for understanding why the narrative isn’t currently doing this to Yara and Sansa, whose powers are comparatively small), are hysterical, unfit to rule, and must be put down. Because make no mistake, we are building toward Jon “mercy killing” Dany, which is gross on more levels than I have time for.

(I would also point out that the sack of King’s Landing during Robert’s Rebellion, the murder of the Targ children, and all the other horror from that conflict was not used as a moral imperative to compel Ned to murder his best friend. And yet that is exactly what we’re seeing with Jon and Dany. Gosh, what could be the difference here?)

I’ve maintained for years now that whether or not Dany is framed as a villain by the narrative is beyond the point. What concerns me is why the narrative is framing her this way. And would that framing remain if, say, the story had been about Viserys Targaryen being abused by his sister and sold to a warlord, struggling to gain power for himself, and finally returning home to take back his kingdom at whatever the cost? Food for thought.

Why is Dany framed as innately susceptible to the “crazy” in her Targ blood, like she just can’t help but go batsh*t insane, whereas Jon is strangely immune? Even though they’re both Targs? I am reminded strongly of the Dune Chronicles framing Alia, and women specifically, as more susceptible to abomination than men because...vaginas??

The thing is, Dune was originally published in 1965. Game of Thrones S8x05 “The Bells” was released in 2019. In 54 years the portrayal of women in storytelling has progressed by 0% apparently.

Well, if Daenerys Targaryen must join the ranks of Alia Atreides and all the other fictional women condemned as crazy for having power and the wrong genitalia, then at least she is keeping good company.

EDIT: An additional note, since apparently this is needed:

Yes, I know Dany is “100% Targ” and Jon is “only 50%,” and this is somehow why Jon isn’t being treated as crazy by the narrative even though he’s behaved similarly to Dany before (as I pointed out in my post).

I would point out, however, that Rhaegar was just as much a Targ as Dany, and yet wasn’t crazy. HUH.

Also I am not talking about why Dany is crazy and Jon is not. I’m talking about why the narrative frames Dany as crazy, but doesn’t frame Jon and other men that way even when they behave similarly.

#daenerys targaryen #jon snow #jonerys #game of thrones #got spoilers #not star wars

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reviewpri · 5 years ago

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Will GoT and ASOIAF have the same ending? No- and here is why:

We’ve passed George and that’s something that George always worried about — the show catching up and ultimately passing him — but the good thing about us diverging at this point is that George’s books will still be a surprise for readers who have seen the show. Certain things that we learned from George way back in that meeting in Santa Fe are going to happen on the show, but certain things won’t.

The whole thing “ the show ending will be the same for the main characters “is, basically, not true and both David Benioff and Dan Weiss admit it in this pre-season 8 interview with Time

They spend an inordinate amount of time in pulling emphasis to the fact that they “meticulously planned this for years″ ( and they contradict themselves by word and action many times over, without noticing it.)

Look at this exchange:

“How long does the writing process usually take?

WEISS: It’s hard to say with this one especially, because so much of the endgame is stuff that we’ve been discussing for at least four or five years, if not longer. So a lot of the pieces have been put on the board years ago. You could go back to season 2 and some of these ideas started to come out. But the actual writing process, when did we start doing the outlines?”

Weiss does not know exactly when they started discussing the “ endgame”, but he is sure you can come back to season 2 and see some ideas there, which of course does not add up, except if they were retconning the whole thing because as the conversation they had with GRRM at Santa Fé about the endgame, by their own admission, happened between 2013 (before season 4 in 2014) HOW THE FUCK CAN THEY SAY THE IDEAS HAD BEEN IN PLACE IN 2012 when season 2 was filmed and aired??

So, when Bryan Cogman want us to go back to season 2- specifically- to see the seeds for Daenerys insanity, you can tell it is a retcon because they are specifically pinpointing to a time where they started changing canon Daenerys to be more “ badass” and decided to use this to gaslight us into believing they indeed mapped everything out when, as I showed, they did not.

Moreover, look at the answer Benioff gives to Weiss about their outlines:

“ I don’t know, because we started going over it back when we were shooting season 7. “

See? The story departs from the books by season 5, season 6 is almost completely uncharted territory, but they only started checking the outlines for the endgame as THEY WERE SHOOTING SEASON 7!!!

Okay, now that I proved they are retconning Daenerys journey to hype this false perception they understood ASOIAF (” it’s about people, and power, and the pursuit of power, and how that affects those without power. “ - that is true for the first book - Game of Thrones- but GRRM had planned the series to be a coming of age story, a saga of three different families and how the legacy of their patriarchs affect the children) and are true to the ending (” pretty much the actual endgame ) because, as I imagine, they wanted to shield themselves from any backlash as much as possible, let´s turn one moment to talk about how the changes they made prove that they switched from a character-driven story to a plot-driven story in the last four seasons- and how this made GoT ending a mess!

First, they have been changing the characters since season 1 to fit their ideas and the actors who would be playing the parts. Case in point: Cersei Lannister :

“ ...for instance, when Lena Headey came in and did her audition for Cersei. And we’d seen a number of actresses before, very good actresses, but they were all playing the ice queen.”

David Benioff, I am sorry to tell you this but CERSEI IS THE FUCKING ICE QUEEN! That was how GRRM wrote the character- not as a mother slightly drunk from afternoon mimosas ( “ Lena came in and she was funny and she was weird “), but as a force of nature, a volcano of ambitions and resentments.

Kit Harington is good with action scenes and not so good as a political player? Let´s write Jon Snow as the best warrior there is, as a man without any ambition whatsoever!

Emilia Clarke is good at giving speeches and being a badass? Let´s give her plot with Qaith to Ser Jorah and have Daenerys kill people every single season ( Book!Dany never killed Dorea and Xaro)

Peter Dinklage is getting Emmy after Emmy playing soul tortured, but mostly good guy Tyrion? Let´s have him be the moral compass of the story, no matter if in the books, he is among the darkest of characters in an already dark series!

Second, they do not see the story progressing in terms of character´s arcs, but in terms of points, of scenes they know it will happen:

“There were some details that were added later — but pretty much the actual endgame, the main climactic moments, we had in mind then. “

See how Weiss mentions “moments” and do not say anything about “character´s endings?”

Ladies and gentlemen, that is because they can still have certain key scenes in the story, but played by different characters!

Remember Sansa?

Remember by the end of season 4, she walked down the stairs of The Eyrie, with a new visual identity that was signaling to us that her journey, from there on, would be one of her making? That her alliance with Littlefinger would either be mutual beneficial, or she would get rid of him?

Then...season 5 came and DnD decided to scrap that. Book!Sansa stays at the Vale trying to protect SweetRobin and preparing a Tourney while increasingly resenting Littlefinger´s involvement with her life to the point she starts having doubts.

DnD must have found this boring....despite setting the pieces for this. So, they ignored a character´s progression to the point- they made Sansa take a pill of stupidity, eat Littlefinger´s shit and agree to marry North!Joffrey - so that they could give Sansa one of those “ main climatic moments”- the rape of Jeyne Poole by the hands of Ramsay as watched by Theon.

There you have it guys : DnD ending is just a myriad of scenes from GRRM books they know it will happen but played out by different characters because DnD wanted to make the ending “ theirs” somehow and they think we will only care about those main climactic moments if they happen to the already established characters.

This is why there is not fAegon and no Jon Connington in the story.

That is why they split fAegon plots between Cersei ( Golden Company + rule of Kl) and Jon ( the whole legitimacy and claim to the Throne)

Jon Connington is the only book! character foreshadowed to burn a city to the ground because that is his main regret in life- that he had been unable to do that during the rebellion, a hesitation that allowed Robert Baratheon to escape and, eventually, kill the love of his life, Rhaegar.

Had they adapted fAegon storyline, they could have burnt KL the way it has been foreshadowed in the books- between Jon Connigton´s hatred of bells, Cersei Lannister love for wildfire and the second dance of dragons between Daenerys and fAegon.

But they did not.

Season 7 we knew they had a scene filmed with Cersei, the motherly type Cersei of the show, would have lost the only thing that made her act rationally for the first time of her life: a baby.

BUT...

“ I don’t know, because we started going over it back when we were shooting season 7 “

They went over and probably realized what they could do with season 8 if they just ignored the foreshadowing they were setting about a war between two diametrical opposed queens:

Daenerys, the Bride of Fire, pregnant and happy with Jon, against Cersei, Ice Queen, miserable and barren.

This war would, of course only make thematic sense if this dynamic would play out, one player afraid of losing and the other, having nothing to lose.

They filmed the scene. The scene which would explain perfectly well why Cersei would become mad and try to burn the city so nobody would have it- and fulfill the Valonqar prophecy- but they scrapped.

The Throne scene between Daenerys and Jon makes sense...if it is between Cersei and Jaime.

and no, the vision of Daenerys at the second season- the one they now claim to have been “ all planned” despite the fact they had NO IDEA how it would play out before the end of season 3- had been ALREADY FULFILLED BY SEASON 7, with Daenerys choosing not to touch the Throne, which was covered in snow (Jon) but going North, beyond the Wall, with her dragons.

But, again, by their own admission, they looked back and realized...there was this amazing moment they could give to Emilia in the show and the only way they could explain this would be by retroactively stating the changes they made, by their own accord before they knew the endgame, had actually been, all this time, THEIR GENIUS MASTERPLAN.

Am I saying GRRM ending will be better? No...I am just explaining why you should not assume this mess came out from his butt because it came out of DnD´s butt.

(and yes, after all those cock jokes, I feel completely fine by ending this very serious meta with a butt joke.)

#anti d&d #season 8 was not the ending #i explain why #reblog if you wish #daenerys defense squad #daenerys deserved better #grrm where are you #anti got #pro daenerys #season 8 was a mess

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renlyisright · 4 years ago

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Season 7 Episode 7 - Hey, We Won at Scheming, Who Would Have Guessed

Welp, I finished the master’s thesis before I finished the show. I can’t exactly say that I have grown up with these characters because most of them have stopped growing up for death-related reasons. Well, there’s the Stark kids who are still alive, and their careers are all on up-swing.

In this final episode of the season, we visit the ruins of the dragon pit, and they make me wonder just how large it must have been when the dragons were still super large.

The truce meeting is about to start, but Daenerys has brought her army to stand near King’s Landing, just in case. Both the Unsullied and the Dothraki. Euron’s massive fleet is protecting the Blackwater, against Daenerys’ fleet of… five ships.

The negotiators are allowed entrance, and are brought to the third hill of King’s Landing, and the one tourist attraction we haven’t seen yet, the Dragon Pit. Which is a big place, but sadly a ruin. Being a large pile of already-cut stone right in the city with no current use never helps any historical building, those stones can be put to a much better use.

As this meeting includes almost everyone of any importance, and also some sidekicks, there’s more reunions. Tyrion says that he missed Bronn. Bronn seems to have his business in order, bringing Cersei’s enemies to her and thinking of retiring with his reward if the negotiation ends with heads on spikes. But if Daenerys wins in the end...

Everyone arrives to the arena, and the Hound begins the game by threatening the Mountain. There’s clearly a duel being set up between these two death-cheaters, but as at any time either of them can be killed by, well, anything, I’m not holding my breath for a super smackdown between them.

Daenerys arrives fashionably late, and brings her two dragons to the dragon pit, and… how big exactly this place must have been in the beginning? Drogon’s wings almost cover the middle of the arena by themselves.

As Daenerys, Jon and Tyrion predicted, their enemies just laugh about the matter before seeing the evidence. After that, they present a bit of theater, as Cersei later reveals. Euron proclaims that he’s moving his fleet to the Iron Islands, away from the Dead, and Cersei gives a practised speech of accepting the truce.

So did they have intel of the evidence, or did Cersei make plans for the low-odds-event that the thing she has ridiculed every time it has come up is actually true. If so, that’s remarkably good planning, from her.

The showing of the evidence was quite a show, Jon used the one wight they had in great detail for everyone to see. Qyburn was especially interested… well, he has practised getting one almost dead man up and running, so searching this body for any clues for advancing the scientific understanding of life and death must intrigue him… Let’s hope he doesn’t create a new White Walker in the middle of the Red Keep.

Cersei asks Jon to promise to go back to the North and stay there. Jon can’t promise that, so the negotiation ends, just like that. Tyrion and Daenerys say that Jon should have just lied and not been so Neddy. But just because others do something universally agreed to be bad, it doesn’t mean you should too. Anyway, Cersei walks out and Tyrion goes to speak to him alone, as he matters the least if he gets killed.

But he doesn’t, even after coaxing Cersei to kill him for what he did. Cersei is too shocked to give the word, and it could also be that she simply can’t give people what they ask from her, it’s completely unnatural to her. She blames Tyrion for killing Tywin, which opened them for their enemies and brought about the dead of the rest of the kids. The legacy of Tywin Lannister… you know, if the only thing keeping everyone from attacking your family is their fear of you, that does not a good legacy make. The legacy of Ned Stark was the North supporting first Robb and then Jon out of respect to him, the legacy of Tywin Lannister was everyone piling up on the Lannisters once he was out of the way.

The result of Cersei and Tyrion’s discussion is that Cersei proclaims to join them in the fight against the Dead, while expecting nothing good to come to herself for that decision. Yes, what did we speak about lying just now?

Speaking of Ned Stark’s legacy, Jon and Theon talk about it. Theon betrayed his memory, but, as Jon says, he was more of a father to Theon than Balon ever was. And so they can use that bond to reconcile, and Jon can encourage Theon to take charge and take the lead of Yara’s men.

Symbolism, Theon is starting to change his weaknesses into strengths. This is symbolised by allowing the Ironborn he is fighting to kick him to the nuts, to no effect. Yes, this is symbolism speaking.

The man says to Theon “Stay down, or I’ll kill you”. When Theon has the upper hand, he bashes his head in with a rock for that mercy. I would say that the Ironborn have a specifically violent way to solve disputes, but… nope. Not specifically, not at all. But Theon gets to be the leader of the pride, and gets to go against the Ramsay-placeholder enemy to confront his trauma. Someone should invent better therapy methods.

In Winterfell, the winter continues to fall from the sky. Littlefinger tries to chaos things up, but his time’s up. There’s no room for him anymore in this new magical and thriller-pace world.

I read A Dance With Dragons last winter, and while I liked most of it, like the writing style, the characters, seeing more of non-royals, and the new locales, the ending was a disappointment. Or rather, that there wasn’t an ending. There’s more books to go (and I hope to get to read them), but this one just… stopped when the page count went over 1000. It had the same problem as the fourth one, people spent a lot of time going from one place to another, so that when they arrived the book was almost over (or in Victarion’s case, it was over), and the end result was just a list of cliffhangers. Like, imagine ending A Clash of Kings just before Blackwater, or last season before the Battle of the Bastards. It felt like the arc of the book was incomplete, and I wasn’t given a reason to care about the new side plots, like which of them will actually matter and which just padded the book until it had to end early?

The funny thing of course is that this show has now the opposite problem of jumping from one set piece to another without build-up or showing of the journey. And when you can’t keep up with this new world, you lose the game of thrones.

Littlefinger schemes a wedge between Sansa and Arya. He doesn’t want a trained assassin in the same castle as he is, now that he has supported Sansa to ladyship and is perhaps looking for a way to make her a queen as well… that was his weakness, stick to just getting power and you’d have much easier job, but no, you have to include getting a specific woman into your plans and that’s when you make mistakes. But it doesn’t matter anymore what he schemes, as magic has entered Winterfell.

Bran can cheat. He can see the past, and apparently can see exactly where and when he wants. So he traced Littlefinger’s steps, and found out all his betrayals. Many of them Sansa already knew, so the rest mustn’t have come as a shock. So the Starks, who value honesty and honor, now can see if they are betrayed or lied to. Once Jon gets to Winterfell, Bran can tell him what Cersei said after they left. Political intrigue, a corner block and most of the wall of the show, has suddenly become useless. The Littlefingers of the world can’t scheme anymore against the Starks. They have Won At Scheming.

The dagger, the dagger, is revealed to be originally Petyr’s. As I said earlier, the only way the revelation could matter anymore would be if it was someone’s who is still living, or someone’s whom we’d never think to order Bran’s assassination. And here we are, it was the Chaos Man. I’m not sure if the dates add up, how did he know of Bran’s fall so that he could hire the assassin, when he was in King’s Landing at the time? Maybe he wasn’t? And why use his own expensive dagger and lie that it was Tyrion’s, when a simple Lannister knife would have worked much better?

In the book the answer was different. Tyrion figured out that it was Joffrey, who stole his father’s dagger and gave it to the assassin. He never confirmed it with anyone, and anyway Joffrey died moments later. I can fully well believe it from Joffrey. But it’s been so long since Joffrey died that at this point one more evil deed to his name wouldn’t mean much. So the culprit is now Littlefinger, and wow, listing all his schemes like that tells how without him the status quo would likely be just where it was in the beginning. He has a lot of blood on his hands. Daenerys and the Dead would still be wild cards, though.

And so the king of the ash heap, Petyr Baelish, dies in the dark main hall of Winterfell, in the middle of the mess he’s spent years to create, without achieving his goals, without any allies and with absolutely nobody going to miss him.

As I have said, for being such a dark and gritty show, the villains don’t get any better ends than those who try to do better, and their legacies are usually worse.

Speaking of both the villains and those who try to do better, Cersei informs Jaime that nope, we are not going anywhere, she used the neat trick called lying. Euron went to get mercenaries with elephants (ooh!) from Essos.

This is enough for Jaime, who storms away, after telling Cersei to have the Mountain kill him for it if she so desires. In the end, she doesn’t, even after threatening him with that. But after listening to her lie and cheat for years, Jaime just says “I don’t believe you” and leaves. See, consequences.

Poor Cersei, losing everyone’s trust and being entirely alone at the end of the episode. Only her massive armies to keep her on the throne. Which is a funny thing, now that I think about it. She has managed to antagonize everybody, but because she has killed everyone in King’s Landing who has criticized her, she gets to still rule, because there is no one else in the city to take the crown from her. She’s taking advantage of the fact that no new important characters are going to be introduced at this point. Euron was the last one, in the season 6 of 8, and even he feels like he exists only as a mid boss so Daenerys’ invasion isn’t too easy, to be killed once fleets don’t matter anymore.

Of course Cersei takes advantage of the fact that her enemies are scary. New Targaryen invasion, with the Dothraki and Unsullied. Nothing like the good old rulers we have here in Westeros, who may blow up the most holy building on the continent to escape a trial and kill the servants of the main religion, but are at least… from the same continent?

It’s still weird that the Seven is the main religion, when it has been the most useless one in actual action. Did they ever do anything? When the Old Gods were driven from the South, were the Seven doing anything to support their believers? Well, did the Old Gods? Does the Drowned God? Well, if Euron’s fleet’s speed is a boon from the Drowned God, that would explain a lot.

The winter comes to King’s Landing as well. Snow will be next season’s color. Along with darkness, but if the scenery gets any darker I won’t see anything on screen.

A song of fire: Sam arrives at Winterfell, safe and sound. He must have found out about his father and brother on the way, but it’s not mentioned. He meets with Bran, and by giving him a hint of where to look, Bran sees the wedding of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. So they were legally married, and their child, Jon, is not a bastard, but the legal heir to the Throne, Aegon Targaryen. Boom. And there’s him and Daenerys being all Targaryeny.

Bigger thing than the heir business, is that Rhaegar is no longer sullied by the rape, which is the main thing he is remembered for. “He was a noble and great knight from the stories, a great prince, and a rapist whose horribleness brought about the rebellion.” But was that lie better than the truth? Or did someone, last generation’s Littlefinger, spin the story for the worst so a proper war could get started?

Anyway, has Daenerys fought all her battles so that she can give the throne to the rightful heir, who is not her, the Breaker of Chains?

A song of ice: Sansa and Arya talk, and remember their father’s words of working together: The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Legacy.

In the Eastwatch-by-the-sea, bad things happen. A dragon is a nuke option, and the Night King uses it gladly. Its power seems to be enough to destroy the Wall and remove the spells as well. And so the dead march to the lands beyond the Wall, bringing a new night with them.

After all the hype of the Wall, it couldn’t even put up a fight when the dead finally arrived. Beric Dondarrion and Tormund try to run to safety, and I can’t see if they succeed. But I’d presume that there would be a clearer shot if they died. And, well, we are talking of Beric Dondarrion here. He could always play dead.

But guess who from the Night Watch survived the apocalyptic event of the onslaught of the dead and the destruction of the Wall? And did it just by not being where the attack happened? My favourite watchman, Dolorous Edd. How does he do it?

By the way, Night Watch, Long Night, Night King, connecting these took too long for me.

#renly is right #game of thrones

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shipping-receiving · 5 years ago

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Fictober 2019 Day 16: “Listen. No, really listen.”

Rating: T | Word Count: 2607 Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones Relationship: Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth Tags: Alternate Universe – Office Notes: Part 1 – Tumblr / AO3 | Part 2 – Tumblr / AO3

(read on AO3)

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This is a mistake, Brienne thinks for the hundredth time since she woke up this morning, as she waits for Jaime at the ferry terminal. Why the hells is she bringing him to Tarth? It’s too soon. She still has no clue what exactly is happening between them that would make this too soon, but she just knows it’s too soon.

Fine, so it’s the fourth straight weekend she’s been showing him around the Stormlands. She’d started off with Storm’s End, of course. Brienne isn’t that much of an expert on the castle’s history, beyond what they had to learn in high school, but Renly was a distant descendant of House Baratheon—not that the Great Houses still existed, or held castles—and he had told her a few good stories that had been passed down through generations.

“You’re close to Renly, then,” Jaime had commented, when she told him about her source.

“Oh, I guess so. But we’re just friends.” And then she had winced, because why the fuck did that last part matter?

Jaime just smiled at her appreciatively, like it actually did matter. “Good to know,” he had said. Again with that phrase. But he didn’t say much else after that on the subject. That first weekend, she found that Jaime was talkative, even funny, when he wasn’t just greeting her with her name at her cubicle. But he was also talkative in a way that seemed as if he was trying to avoid having to talk. Really talk. Not that Brienne expected them to really talk this first weekend, even if they had been doing that dance in the office for weeks. In real terms, she was still just his employee.

There were a handful of other great castles left standing around the Stormlands that were all worth visiting, but for the second weekend Brienne had thought it was best to shift gears. She drove them to a charming small town about an hour out of the city, thinking it would be a nice place to spend the day, and it was, mostly. When they found themselves walking through a farmers’ market, however, it had suddenly felt far too domestic. It’s just the second weekend of sightseeing, Gods, not even a second date. They hadn’t even had a first date. Storm’s End didn’t count if there was no written or verbal agreement between both parties on its date-ness. Nothing had even changed, in the office. The dance continued, that was all. Fine, so they were texting more often, and Brienne was extremely glad that she sat with her back to Margaery. That woman had an eagle eye for people who smiled at their phones too much.

Brienne might have brisk walked through that farmers’ market a little too quickly as she thought these thoughts. Jaime was in no such hurry, though, and seemed keen to indulge some kind of latent obsession he had with sampling cheese. At least, she had assumed it was just about sampling cheese. By the time he had reached her at the end of the market, he was carrying six different blocks of cheese in his arms.

The third weekend, Brienne thought she should pick something safe. Safe and undomestic. They could go to the art museum. Art museums are safe. Art museums are educational. Art museums are sometimes even puzzling, but they had interesting objects in them, and they’d be spending all their time looking at those interesting objects, and reading words that described those interesting objects. Except it just so happened that Jaime quite likes art, in a way that Brienne found refreshing. He could speak reverently about sculptures she thought were quite confusing, and even, frankly, hideous. But he also had no qualms about making fun of serious old paintings, especially the ones with more anatomically questionable depictions of the Seven.

Art museums are not safe, Brienne decided. Jaime was opening her mind and making her laugh and Brienne was starting to really feel things inside her. They weren’t even on a date. There was no written or verbal agreement between both parties.

Then, at the end of that afternoon, Jaime had asked her if they could do something different next weekend, experience more of the region’s unspoiled nature, maybe. “Oh, let’s go to Tarth!” she had said, without even thinking. “We can take the first ferry out in the morning, and the last ferry back at night. It’ll be a long day, but doable, I think.”

“Your father still lives on Tarth, doesn’t he?” was Jaime’s first question, and Brienne progressed to a full-blown blush in record time. She hadn’t really thought about that—Jaime said ‘nature’ and she just immediately thought ‘Tarth’—but there was something in Jaime’s voice that told her he was amused at her suggestion.

“... He does,” she replied. “But he’s busy next weekend.” He wasn’t. “And I just saw him last month.” She sees him almost every month, actually, so she was due for another visit. “We don’t have to see him.” That was just making it weirder than it had to be.

“Of course,” Jaime said, and he wasn’t just sounding amused, he was also looking amused. “I was just asking. I’d love to go to Tarth.”

And so they are going to Tarth. Jaime shows up at the ferry terminal just a few minutes past their agreed time. It’s a clear day in the Stormlands, rare even for this time of year, so they sit on the upper deck of the ferry, and can’t speak much above the strong winds of Shipbreaker Bay. Brienne tries her hardest not to formulate any opinions on how the wind is having its way with Jaime’s loose white button-up shirt, although he seems to have forgotten that those first three buttons aren’t just for decoration. He’s rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, and she tries her hardest not to formulate any opinions on his forearms, either.

As they disembark the ferry, they walk past a signboard that says, grandly, WELCOME TO TARTH, and in cursive script below, The Sapphire Isle. Jaime points at it and remarks, “They’ve been calling it that for centuries, haven’t they?”

“Yeah. Maybe even for millennia. It’s for the blue of its waters.”

“It’s not a reference to the eyes, then.”

Brienne looks at him quizzically. “What eyes?”

“Your eyes.” He lifts a finger pointlessly in the direction of her face. “The Tarth eyes. I assume it’s a family trait. They’re very blue.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you?” Why did she thank him? He was just stating a fact. She does have very blue eyes, and they are a Tarth trait. The one trait she’s always been glad she inherited.

“You’re welcome,” Jaime says, anyway, with that half-smile of his.

They spend the rest of the day on the western coast, mostly, where the ruins of Evenfall Hall still stand. The island isn’t particularly big, and it’s easy enough to take the bus along the main roads, and explore the island from there. Her childhood home, where her father still lives, is on the eastern coast, so she can sidestep the intimacy of showing Jaime that part of her life. Her father did turn out to be busy this weekend, anyway, so she doesn’t have to feel so guilty about coming to the island without telling him.

In the late afternoon, Brienne brings Jaime to a secluded meadow in the northwest. It’s close enough to the sea, and they’ll be able to watch the sunset in an hour or so, too. She used to go there as a kid, she tells Jaime, when she wanted to be alone. She doesn’t tell him that it was to get away from the cruelty of the other kids.

They lie in the grass, and look up at the sky. There is an intimacy in this, though it’s not the same intimacy of him seeing her childhood home, of meeting her father. Brienne pushes away the thought that this might be even more intimate than those things.

“Listen, Jaime,” she tells him. It’s what she used to do when she came here as a child. Just close her eyes and listen to everything except her own thoughts.

He does, for a while. “It’s nice,” he says eventually. “It’s quiet.”

Well, those are certainly adjectives. She shouldn’t have expected more from a man who spent most of his life in the city of King’s Landing, with all the noises of the urban environment that people there learn to ignore. “No, really listen,” Brienne urges. “Close your eyes and listen.”

Jaime stays silent for a long time. Finally, he speaks again. “I can hear the grass rustling in the wind. Birds, talking to each other in the trees back there. The waves, that’s distant, but I can hear it, I think. And your breathing.” Brienne’s eyes fly open at the last one, but Jaime just continues. “No traffic. No fingers typing away on keyboards, or pens scratching on paper, or the whirring of copy machines. And coffee machines, I suppose.” She hears the smile in his voice, at that little rhyme.

“No arguments,” he says, the smile disappearing. “No expectations.”

Brienne turns over to lie on her side, facing him. Somehow, those words give her the courage to ask the question that’s been on her mind since the stairwell incident. She’s going to hope he talks. Really talks. She wants him to talk to her. She wants to listen.

“You were supposed to go back to King’s Landing, weren’t you? Why did you decide to stay?”

“Long story,” he says to the sky. “My family—it’s complicated. My father wants me to take over the company, some day, even though my brother is much better at all of this.” Tyrion, if Brienne remembers correctly. Nicknamed the Imp as much for his quick wit as for his height. “My sister isn’t too happy about my father’s decision, not that she wants my brother in the running at all. Just her and her new husband.” Jaime says this bitterly, and Brienne is reminded of that strange intensity she heard in his phone call with Cersei. “She was pushing me for it, at first. She’s my twin, you know, and we used to do everything together. She thought that she’d be able to gain control through me, if my father won’t give it to her.”

He turns toward her now. “I don’t want any of it, Brienne. I’m good at my job—I don’t enjoy it, but I’m good at it, and I’m not sure what else I could do, anyway. But I don’t want control of the entire company.” He picks at the grass between them. “Cersei finally got that in her head. So she went and found someone with more ambition. But my father doesn’t want her husband to inherit the business, even though the man even offered to take the Lannister name.”

Jaime sighs, and he seems to be somewhere quite far away. “It’s a mess, back in King’s Landing, Brienne. I don’t even know how long I can stay in the Stormlands, before my father finds a way to force me back.”

He lies there for a while, still facing her. Then, all of a sudden, he sits up. “I’m sorry,” he says, without looking back. “You probably didn’t want to hear all of that.”

Brienne shifts herself so she’s sitting beside him. “I don’t know if I can give you any advice at all, Jaime. But I’m happy to listen, whenever you need to talk.” She nudges him with her elbow. “I’m not just a tour guide, you know.”

He smiles that half-smile again. “Hey. Can I ask you a question, too?”

“Of course.”

“How did that whole thing get started? About you thinking I look average?”

Not this again. “Why are you so obsessed with that?” Brienne laughs.

“I’m just interested in the backstory, that’s all.” Jaime’s whole demeanour is shifting. Brienne can see the familiar self-confidence return, a bit of that arrogance he saves for the office, though she’s realising now that it might just be something for him to hide behind. “I was surprised to hear it. I happen to think I’m quite good-looking.”

Okay, she was feeling quite sorry for him a minute ago, but now she can’t help but roll her eyes. “Who are you? Who even says that about themselves?”

“Answer the question, Brienne,” he grins.

“Everyone was talking about it, okay?” she groans. “Your looks. All day, every day. It was too much. I was just really annoyed one morning, because of…” She doesn’t really want to get into the details of that morning, actually. “Bottom line, I just didn’t want to hear it anymore. So I said it to shut people up. Then it got out of hand.”

“Because of…?” he probes.

Alright, fine. “I don’t have a chauffeur to get me to work, Jaime. I take a bus, then a train, then the shuttle. I missed all three of those that morning. And then I was all sweaty and gross and I passed you in the hallway and you gave me a look—”

Oh fuck. Brienne had said too much. She hadn’t wanted to talk about the look.

“Oh.” There’s a glimmer of recognition in Jaime’s eye. “I remember that.”

He does? “You do?”

“Yeah. I think so. You were all flustered, I remember, and your hair was a mess.”

Oh great, that’s why he remembers. “Thanks a lot for that.” Brienne hides her head in her knees. “I don’t really need the recap, Jaime.”

“Don’t interrupt while I’m reminiscing, Bridget,” he teases. “I remember it because it was the first time I thought, ‘She has nice eyes.’”

Brienne just starts laughing into her knees out of shock.

“I’m serious!” Jaime insists.

“That was your takeaway?” She lifts her head. “I looked like a disaster, Jaime. I distinctly remember going to the bathroom right after and thinking that I looked like a disaster.”

“As I recall, you were wearing that blue blouse that matches your eyes. They were all wide, and your cheeks were all flushed and it just, I don’t know, made them stand out. I guess that’s why I gave you a look.”

He can’t possibly mean what he’s saying. “You basically said I was ugly at the office party, Jaime,” Brienne reminds him. Or perhaps it’s more of a reminder to herself.

Jaime holds both his hands up in surrender. “Again, I’m very sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” she says, lightly, and nudges him again. “I punched you already.”

“I was drunk, anyway, not that it’s an excuse.” He lies back down on the grass. “Pissed off about my family as usual. And, I think, a little hurt that the tall one with the nice blue eyes thought I only looked average.”

There’s something in those words that makes Brienne want to fly into a panic, even after all the dancing, even after the past four weekends. No, she refuses to jump to any conclusions. It’s a much better option to just—stand up abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Jaime asks from the grass. “Can’t we stay here a while longer?”

Brienne looks at the sky, and sees the sun making its way towards the horizon. She thanks it silently for giving her a reason to walk away from this place, this small patch of meadow where Jaime’s spilled one too many truths for today. She doesn’t want to think of them as truths, really. Not that last part. Not yet.

“Get up, Jaime,” and she offers him her hand. “Or we’re going to miss the sunset.”

#fictober19 #jaime x brienne #braime #my fic #GUESS THIS IS A SLOW BURN NOW #i never knew home until i found your hands

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