#lady of the green kirtle

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

On second thought, she probably hates Christmas after one too many incidents when her wife, the Lady of the Green Kirtle, smoked too much of that "incense" and put on a kirtle with red trim and began belting out Christmas carols accompanied by her mandolin

(Funny part is that she'd presumably be singing traditional carols introduced from England by King Frank and Queen Helen, but my mental image has the Lady of the Green Kirtle serenading Jadis with "All I Want For Christmas Is You" by Mariah Carey)

I wonder if the real reason the White Witch hates Christmas is that the start of the Christmas season marks the end of the Halloween season, which means no more handing out Turkish Delight laced with fentanyl

[iliveinnarniaandstudyathogwarts]

People of Narnia

Lady of the green Kirtle Queen of Underland

[to-the-western-wood]

Narnia characters as: iconic tumblr quotes (part 2/4)

edmund, to eustace: pick a god and pray

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lucy: there's no point being grown-up if you can't be childish sometimes

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edmund, to peter: god may judge you but his sins outnumber your own

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eustace, holding a sword: tell me the name of god you piece of shit

the lady of the green kirtle: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

eustace, raising the sword, tears streaming down his face: I'M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

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puddleglum, ten minutes after the previous quote: decay exists as an extant form of life

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jadis, to edmund: you kneel before my throne unaware it was born of lies

[liminal-zone]

The Lady laughed: the richest, most musical laugh you can imagine.

[missempanada]

Does anyone think Narnia's Lady of the Green Kirtle may be inspired by Persephone? Just a thought.

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

A Narnia adaptation where the witches are both David Tennant in drag

Jadis in the style of the Time Lord Victorious, especially if they cover The Magician's Nephew

The Lady of the Green Kirtle as, like, Kilgrave but with the a green color scheme (the opposite side of the Joker/Incredible Hulk/Barney the Dinosaur/etc. color duality) and turning into a green version of noodle Crowley at the end

And yes, since my headcanon that the Lady of the Green Kirtle is Jadis's avenging widow, we would nees body doubles and possibly more advanced visual effects to convey the hot Tennant-on-Tennant action I would want here

[iliveinnarniaandstudyathogwarts]

The White Witch and The Lady of the green kirtle according to AI

[to-the-western-wood]

eustace, to the lady of the green kirtle: if the good die young then you might live forever

[noybusiness]

@headspace-hotel Yes, that's a really devastating concept for the children's return in Prince Caspian.

My mother and I both always found the image of all the unexplored pools in the Wood Between the Worlds exciting.

Are you thinking of the Telmarines? The Telmarines came through a portal on an island. The Archenlanders are descended from King Frank V's second son and his followers. The Calormenes are descended from Archenlander bandits.

Yes, there are Roman gods in Narnia, like Bacchus and Silenus, not to mention all the river gods, wood gods, nymphs and fauns. C.S. Lewis considered paganism the precursor to ecstatic Christian spirituality and didn't have an issue with nature gods subordinate to Capital G God.

Yes, stars in Narnia are sentient. The protagonists meet Ramandu, a resting star, and Coriakin, a somewhat fallen star, in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, as well as Ramandu's daughter, who appears to be half human since she's said to have the blood of the stars in her veins rather than to be one herself (unlike in the 2010 movie, where she's a star and named Liliandil). Ramandu's daughter marries Caspian and is the mother of Rilian; she's murdered by the Lady of the Green Kirtle's serpent form. In The Last Battle, the protagonists see all the star-people come down to earth at the end of the world.

@queen-of-carven-stone Lucy or Susan didn't almost marry a star. Are you thinking of when Lucy was forced by the Dufflepuds to go into that manor and reverse the invisibility spell cast on them (by themselves) after they were changed from regular dwarfs called Duffers into monopods by the magician Coriakin, who is a former star being punished for prideful ways by having to govern foolish subjects? There was no forced marriage aspect, though.

I'm not sure whether I read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in book form first or saw the 1989 TV serial first. The 1989-1990 TV serials of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Prince Caspian, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and The Silver Chair were very faithful to the books and I recommend seeing them if you're able to, actually. Most scenes are transferred straight from the page to the screen. Great imagery, intros and music, too, very mysterious and evocative, and I can still hear the music as we speak. The same composer did the Brideshead Revisited TV serial, Geoffrey Burgon. I especially loved the winged panther and cockatrice in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Tom Baker (the Fourth Doctor) played Puddleglum in The Silver Chair. Warwick Davis (Willow in Willow and Nikabrik in the 2008 Prince Caspian film) played Reepicheep in Prince Caspian and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, as well as Glimfeather in The Silver Chair.

narnia has actually way too many completely devastating concepts in it that are not explored At All

[muse-write]

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I’ve had a hard time working on my IC story this week, and I think most of it is bc I’m not certain how to fit the horror vibe with the Christian themes without being way more on the nose than I want to be. I don’t necessarily want overtly supernatural events to be the main cause or solution, and I’ve had it in my mind while writing that my main character is perhaps an atheist/agnostic who nevertheless finds herself resonating with certain Christian ideals, even as she does not explicitly convert. I’m just not sure how to do that in the story itself, or how to mix that with atmospheric horror.

[characterswithcolorsnamesfight]

Prelim Poll 12

Propaganda here

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

The Dragon’s Spoil (Aemond Targaryen x Rivers! Reader) Part 2

Part 1   |   Part 2   |  Part 3   |   Part 4  

Summary: The baseborn daughter with little knowledge of who your Lord father was, your life is caught in the midst of war. The Riverlands are the base for the Greens and the Blacks, dragons loom in the skies, and men die daily, especially within the walls of the cursed Harrenhal. It’s only when a certain one-eyed dragon comes for his retribution. The year is 130 AC and war endures.

A/N: It was good to see people liked the first part, so I’m continuing with this. If you’re not aware, this series will be around 4 parts, sort of following what happens at the end of the dance of Dragons. 

I also changed the ending to the final part as initially, Vhagar was going to eat the corpses instead or burn them, but it made me think that Aemond wouldn’t do that. Despite killing pretty much all of House Strong, he will still respects their bodies to give them a respectful funeral rite similar to the cremations Targaryen family members get.

I also promise the next chapter is when it gets most spicy.

Tags: slight mention of threat, some gore at the end.

Wordcount: 1,817

The Dragon’s Ruin

It feels like an eternity when you next see the Prince.

Criston Cole has you dragged away into the kitchen of the castle, throwing a cleaner apron that is not stained in mud. “I’m sure one of the ladies has a spare gown for you to wear.”

There are no true ladies of Harrenhal, only those that were dragged to live here by the husbands if they were willing. You gritted your teeth, finding some reprieve when the Hand leaves the room, only to allow you a short moment to change.

You can’t do much apart from try and drag the mud out from the bottom of your gown, already was it stained and appropriately dirtied from days of labour around the castle. The castellan had made sure you were occupied in cleaning: especially in places that had little to no to see you.

You wipe at your brown kirtle with some water in a bucket close by, changing your previous apron with one that is just as messy as the previous one, except the stains seemed more appropriate for a cook. You tie your long black hair up in a bun, loose ringlets fall and frame around your face and fail to fall back behind your ear.

You’re appropriate when the Hand comes for you again, muttering along the lines of “the Prince wants to see you in his chambers” before you’re dragged by the arm again, through the corridors you’ve known all your life. 

It’s not hard to find him: he’s in the same apartment you had previously been cleaning, its fireplace still unlit and ash messily strewn in a manner that had looked to of been discarded. He would be displeased to have his room not the cleanliness of one in the Red Keep.

The One-eyed Prince is situated in a chair by the unlit fire, idly preoccupied in waiting for you as if he had been called to see you and not the other way around. For a moment when you both enter the room, he does not look to address either, and you see in the split second how he does not seem as calm as he usually is.

His hair is thrown forward past his shoulders, long and graceful, he is caught staring with a stare of longing and unknown thoughts. It makes you wonder just what he is thinking, whether he is proud of his doings, or if war has strengthened him into becoming the man he was meant to be.

He is playing at war. You think, staring at him. Boys as green as summer, they think they’re untouchable.

“My Prince,” Criston addresses and the split moment of being with his thoughts bring him back, his eye turning just enough to see you both in his peripheral, “the bastard you called for.”

“Thank you, Cole,” Aemond speaks calmly, though one hand is squeezing his thigh with might that you think he’ll rip the fabric. “You may leave us both.”

Cole obeys like the loyal dog he is, leaving through the doors and closing them shut, leaving you with the man who killed all in a minor House, and what he could do with a girl like yourself.

You could only imagine what Perra was feeling, how she had been lucky to escape with her life. If Aemond had found out that her uncle had been working alongside the Blacks, you were certain her head would have been sent over to him in a lavish box. 

She was the daughter of a knightly house. She escaped because her name was important, not yours. You think, and sadness spreads through your chest. If you had been born a lady of some house, you wouldn’t have to worry about the judgement, the hatred. It burnt in the back of your skull knowing they stared when you walked past, whispering the lies about you.

Witch. Sorcerer of Harrenhal. Killer of babes and men.

They had all been lies, though, if you had been a witch, you wished your stares could burn through a man’s skull. The part about killing babes was false when you had rarely seen children born in a place such as this. Harrenhal was not the place that would bring life but take it. 

You had been warned that bastards were sterile, never able to create life. It was “to curse them for their unfaithful parents.” Though you did know some bastards could reproduce, you dared think the rumour had been true just for yourself.

Though, you feel rather relieved that you wouldn’t be able to, the constant reminder is enough to make you believe so. You wished you were the witch people called you by, just so you could curse the Prince who had waltzed in and dug up everything root and stem. House Strong could never come back and if they could, the baseborn girl that came from the line could certainly not be legitimised to restrengthen its line.

Aemond is standing from his seat when you blink out of your thoughts, staring at his lips move when you realise he is asking you something. “Who was your father, my Lady?”

My Lady. It stings when you hear that come from him, and you almost laugh at the absurdity. You were everything but a lady. Witch. Sorcerer. You think he uses it to humble you, to remind you of what you were.

“I did not know who,” you answer coolly, “many whispered it had been Ser Simon or Lord Lyonel. Some even said Harwin or the Master of Whispers himself, though I would believe they would be similar in age to me the same way a sibling or cousin would be.”

“How old are you?”

“I am three-and-twenty, my Prince.” You grit your teeth when you say his title.

“And your mother?”

A sad smile appeared on your features, hoping that he did not see it appear before you look away from him. “My mother too, was a mystery I never got to know.”

Aemond hums at your word as he slowly stalks closer towards you. “It is not right for a child not to know their parent.” He speaks causally. “The Mother above can be cruel in most ways.”

“It is the sins of the parents that bring bastards into the world, my Prince, not the Mother.” You say, and when he turns his head to you sharply, you dart away to look elsewhere. 

You curse at yourself for overstepping and speaking when you shouldn’t have.

He stares you down with fascination, humming lightly in a singsong tone. “You’re familiar with the Seven, but you were never brought into the Faith?” 

“A novice life would not suit me well,” you shrugged, smiling to yourself. “I simply could never remember the prayers. Harrenhal is cold but I would rather prefer these walls than those of cold and dreary Oldtown.”

Aemond chuckles at that and it takes everything not to gawk at him when you hear it. It’s soft and subtle, but it sounds surprising and oddly nice to hear come from him. “I suppose you’re right. My mother always thought I would make a great knight, fighting in tourneys.”

“I suppose we were put here for greater purposes.” You speak, trying not to look as intimidated under his purple-eyed gaze.

He stares at you, not saying much, but his eye flicks through emotions as if flicking through a book. It’s unnerving but it draws you in ever the same as a moth to flame. You’re intimidated, but you’re intrigued to know more about him, even when you feel such conflicting feelings of wanting to see him and the entirety of the Greens burn.

You find your words come easier, and you ask the crucial question that had plagued your mind since the moment he landed in the courtyard. “If you aren’t going to kill me, my Prince, why am I here?” 

honestly to him before you find yourself lost in his gaze and you forget everything about hating him. 

 Aemond draws his hands behind his back to straighten his back and appear taller, towering over you with ease. It’s as if just staring at his features makes you feel lost in his Valyrian beauty, and you forget everything about hating him. 

“I need a handmaiden and someone who is most familiar with Harrenhal. You would fit both best, am I correct?” He speaks earnestly.

“That… would be correct.”

He is close enough that you can smell the oils on him, the smell of musk that any proud warrior would wear. It's powerful and overwhelming, but it’s almost as if the way he's standing so close to you is his ploy to make you subservient to him. “My brother will only ask that the prominent line of House Strong is destroyed, not of its baseborn. After all, he had taken… to creating some of his own.”

Oh. He was far from a faithful man, and certainly fit the role of a sloth and licentious King. “My condolences to the Queen.”

Aemond hums amusedly as he traces back to his seat, “I require a fire. I expect you know how to work one?”

“Indeed, my Prince.”

“Very well,” he spoke, his face turning just enough that you see his visible eye, burning with something that makes your heart flutter and your stomach twist, “you will have my undivided protection from all the men in this castle. I swear it on my life.”

It doesn’t make you feel any better to know that, rather you think of one thing that you wish you could ask him aloud, and what about you?

You curtsy rather clumsily, forgetting your footing but playing it off as you leave his chambers, hurrying past Cole who awaits just outside. You almost bump into him as you catch him scowling down at you.

You’re blinking away your confused thoughts, muddled in a worry of feelings and mixed emotions. You hate him, and you should hate him for everything, but his looks and charm were everything that made you feel lured to him. 

Standing back in the place you recalled not long before, the courtyard is a sore sight. Blood still cakes the ground, but the bodies are all replaced with a large pile of ash, some mixed with plates of metal and burnt articles of clothing.

Your stomach twists once again as you back away from the sight, turning back as your vision catches something perched on the walls above.

Thinking it was a raven at first, your heart drops when you recognise that no, they’re not birds, but the heads of every member of House Strong.

Your fists clench into your apron and you’re nearly quick to tears as you look away, remembering your job was to collect firewood for Aemond’s chambers.

Hurrying away, you think if there was any way Targaryens were immune to fire.

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

This is how I picture the Lady of the Green Kirtle in noodle form

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

Jabba the Hutt, Claude Frollo, the Child Catcher, and the Lady of the Green Kirtle are all in that category of villains who creeped you out as kids and creep you out in a whole other way when you revisit it as an adult

[realcatalina]

King and his mother?!

In Christ's College Chapel, Cambridge is 16th century stained glass window, a rare example which survived nearly intact. It is thought to be done in 1505. On left is Henry VII. And the woman on right is Margaret Beaufort. In the most unexpected outfit.

Read further for more.

In middle is St. Edward the Confessor,

on left King Henry VII wearing his armour and crown, already grey-haired.

i just love the silvery part of his armour and also these portculises.

Green behind him probably has to do with tudor colours-green and white.

But it is the female figure on right which caught my attention. It is said to be lady Margaret Beaufort, who was very involved with Christ's College in 1505. Hence it is very logical to asume it is her.

However if you play with image a little bit to see the woman's outfit a bit better...you will realise woman is dressed extremely sumptuarily.

The cloak is held in place by white rope ended by tasle-standard design for female cloak of the time. But this vivid blue colour could be one of blues made using snails as dye...very expensive, on par with purple. The pillow beneath her feet is in same colour, cloth before hr crimson-also very expensive.

So what is the golden part? Her gown+wide sleeves of that gown.

Her headwear seems to be plain black, but otherwise it is pure sumptuousness...not at all what we would expect lady Margaret to wear.

Thus i questioned whetever or not it might be Elizabeth of York instead, however i doubt it because of the shape of coronet. It doesnt match Henry's crown and we have depictions of CoA in crown matching her husbands. Plus these wide sleeves are more consistent with 1510s, they wouldnt become part of English fashion until at least mid 1500s, after Elizabeth died. (As far as i know.)

But then Margaret and the college were in 1505, so it makes sense.

Yet I always imagined that her simple outfit we know from portraits had something to do with her swearung celibacy in 1499.

Can somebody please check records of her wardrobe? Because this is way after and she is depicted truly lavishly. But you know-she got her son on throne after years of struggles and worries. Which one of us wouldn't then want to enjoy her golden years?

You know we had similiar thing with Margaret of Austria. She had so many portraits of herself in simple outfit, looking like true mourning widow and didnt want to remarry after two dead husbands. So people mistakenly think that is all she wore all the time, even though it was not so.

Unfortunately the image is also bit dirty and scratched or worn of in places. I imagine that originally it looked more like this:

I know that at the very top we have lines consisting with white chemise, then black line which could be black kirtle, then line of large pearls(maybe ment to sit on edge of black kirtle) then golden line is probably edge of golden gown...but right under it imo is edge of ermine surcoat.

Which obviously would not be showing over lower parts of golden gown.But normally there is no band running across in middle of the chest-imo that is damage.

Then obviously her blue cloak is held in place by pieces of white rope(typical of the time)-ending in tassel.

That is how i interpret it and this is the best version i could come up with:

One more thing. I do not know which one of these is correct:

With or without u-band.

U-band on forehead occurs in gable hoods of 15th century. After 1505, the vast major women would long since have abandoned it. Like a decade prior.

Yet she was over 60, so i cannot rule out that granny who nobody would have dared to criticized-because she was mother of the king- would have gone around in something way out of fashion.

But then...she has no visible paste and that is consistent with 15th century too. Yet the gown is strongly against it.

So this is bit of contradiction, based upon just this small detail.

But who knows, maybe it is simply dirty in the most unfortunate of the spots and conicidently looks more like u-band, while it might be bit of hair showing.

I hope you have enjoyed this and tell me what you think.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Still not over these terrible summaries

Worst offender: the HHB summary totally spoils the biggest twist in the book

SC spoils a pretty big twist too (the underland) and also calls the Lady of the Green Kirtle the "Emerald Witch"? Which isn't what she's called?

"Army of Talking Beasts" excuse me?? Does Trumpkin mean nothing to you?? Glenstorm??? Doctor Cornelius??? Also "conquered" is probably the wrong word; it's not conquest, it's revolution

"Evil came to Narnia" in MN, not LB. That's just blatantly wrong. I get where they're coming from, but dude. C'mon.

In conclusion, these editions came out in the 70s but whoever wrote this copy should be fired