#margaery: compliments tyrion

[factorydefaultlu]

I'm kinda sensitive, because some repetitive childhood trauma involved, that I kinda want to get over already. So, guys (and gals) asking a reader to examine or study (what's the correct english verb???) her genitalia, and she's very squeamish and hesitant about it, you know, but then sheepishly agrees, while covering her face and requesting to be supportive. How would gals (and guys) behave? 👉👈

I hope I understood the question correctly, I went through something similar as a preteen/teen

Very eager to get between the readers legs, saying how attractive they are: Robb, Tyrion, Cersei, Jaime, Daenerys, Margaery, Oberyn, Melisandre, Rhaenyra, Harwin

Nervous, but whispers affirmations while they study: Sansa, Jon, Stannis, Podrick, Jorah, Brienne, Jace, Alicent, Helaena, Criston

Is very stoic and calm about the whole thing, complimenting the reader: Tywin, Roose, Sandor, Aemond, Daemon, Otto, Rhaenys

Uses it as an excuse to be a perv: Theon, Yara, Ramsay, Aegon

[welldonebeca]

The King's Wives (IV)

WC: 1.4k words Warnings: Fluff. Sex tension. Canon divergence.

The maid, a woman a little older than Sansa, though not old enough to be her mother, guided her through the corridors until they were met with a big door, and it opened to reveal large quarters, with a sitting area, tables and game, and several doors.

They passed through a few doors, and she finally entered a bedroom, beautifully decorated, where Jeyne was already unpacking her things.

“Your room, my lady,” the maid explained. “Only your maids and those you invite are allowed into your quarters. Outside, we are in the wives’ quarters.”

She nodded along.

“Alright,” she mumbled. “Thank you.”

She walked out, and Sansa looked around, a little stunned. It was big, bigger than her parents’ quarters - and her room was much bigger than both of theirs.

“Doesn’t the city smell lovely, Sansa?” Jeyne spoke cheerfully, replacing her curtains with the ones she had brought over from Winterfell.

Sansa couldn’t agree more. She remembered her parents speaking of how bad the air in King’s Landing was, but it didn’t stink as much as she thought it would be. And the quarters actually smelt really good.

“The other ladies-in-waiting say it is the king’s doing,” she told him. “He’d been working on cleaning it and having a plumbing system.”

“Plumbing?” she asked.

What was that?

Jeyne shrugged.

“It’s clean,” she said simply. “And there are rules that we have to follow with the dirty things, but it makes the town smell better.”

Sansa sat down on her bed, running her hands over the sheets she knew Jayne had replaced.

“You should sleep,” she told her. “Princess Margaery is going to invite you for tea later in the afternoon, when the sun is down.”

She nodded a bit to herself, but before she could ask her to help her undress, there was a little knock on her door.

“My lady?” Jon’s voice sounded on the other side. “May I speak to you?”

They both stiffened and Sansa quickly stood up, watching her lady-in-waiting - not a maid anymore, now that she was to become a princess - as she walked to the door and opened it, revealing a waiting Jon, who shot them a polite smile.

“Do I interrupt?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“We were just talking,” she assured him.

Jon squeezed his eyes with curiosity written all over his face.

“About, if I may ask?”

“Plumbing,” Jeyne squeaked before Sansa could do so, too honest of a person to come up with a lie.

Her cousin’s lips spread in an amused grin.

“It was Lord Tyrion’s idea,” he told them. “The Hand of the King. He executed it gracefully in Casterly Rock and believed the Capital would benefit from a plumbing system. And it did.”

Lord Tyrion was Princess Myrcella’s uncle. He was the brother of the man who killed his grandfather - the Mad King - and the son of the man who ransacked King’s Landing and hired the mountain to kill his older sister and brother.

“I really don’t understand why you have someone like him as your Hand, Jon,” she exhaled, unable to control her own words.

His gaze fell on hers and he breathed slowly, then turned to Jeyne.

“You may give us some privacy, Lady Jeyne,” he requested. “Please.”

Her lady-in-waiting curtsied and left the room, wide-eyed and quick on her feet.

Jon looked at her face, then her body.

“That’s a lovely dress,” he affirmed. “Did you make it yourself?”

She nodded, a little huffed. She knew he was only being nice, but it felt good to hear a compliment.

“You know,” Jon stepped closer to her, and hovered over a chair before looking at her. “May I?”

“Of course,” she confirmed quickly.

He sat down, and looked at her again.

“You sounded exactly like my father when you said that,” he told her, looking a little amused.

Her face flushed hot, and she knew she was blushing.

“He looked like he wanted my head when I told him I would appoint Tyrion as the hand once Lord Connington stepped down,” he chuckled. “But I tell you what I told him, Sansa, I know the man. He is not like his father.”

She wanted to scoff.

“No, he is much younger,” she quipped. “And shorter.”

He laughed, a sound that made her relax, and then sighed.

“I did miss you,” he confessed softly.

Sansa’s shoulders fell, and she stared at him for one short moment before rushing to Jon and hugging him, unable to stop herself, and he pulled her to his lap just as her arms squeezed him tightly.

He buried his face in the curve of her neck and into her hair, big hands engulfing her body closely with such a grip that it was almost as if he was ready to never let her go. Sansa felt tears coming to her eyes, every single second she had spent missing him coming up to burst over her heart.

And then, of course, she realised their position.

She was sat right on his lap.

“Forgive me, your grace,” she pulled her arms from his shoulders. “Me, throwing myself on you like this, it was so improper.”

Before she could stand, Jon just held her down, looking amused.

“What is wrong with it?” he asked with a big smile on his face. “I could carry you around like we used to. You can just sit right here with me while I sit on that uncomfortable big chair.”

Her cheeks heated up again. Was he speaking of the throne?

“I am not a child anymore, Jon,” she reminded him.

His smile slowly faded, though his face was still happy.

“You’re right on that,” he watched her face. “We are adults now, aren’t we?”

His eyes studied her, and Sansa swallowed down when his fingers touched her jawline, and Jon touched her cheek with a thumb.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

Her cheeks and neck felt burning hot, and Jon smiled.

"I'm sure you had suitors begging for you, back home,” he spoke softly. “All enchanted with your beauty.”

“I’m a maiden,” she whispered, quick to defend herself.

Jon didn’t even look offended.

“I know,” he assured her. “You are an honourable woman, Sansa.”

Her heart was beating so loudly she feared he could hear it, and there was a different kind of heat she couldn’t quite name in her, firing up the places he was touching her on.

Jon learnt closer in her direction and she lowered her face to him as he cupped her cheek. Sansa wished he could seal this moment between them with a kiss, but Jon’s lips pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, lingering for a little more time than a normal peck before moving away and looking at her again.

“Jon,” she spoke slowly, unsure of what to say, but a knock on the door made her freeze, and the door started open, almost as if the knock was just a step to get through.

She scrambled to her feet, fearing it would be her father, coming to check on her, but when the door opened, it was the flower princess.

“Your grace,” she curtsied as Princess Margaery stepped into her bedroom, not waiting for an invitation.

“Lady Sansa,” she greeted her, and then looked at Jon, curtsying quickly. “My Lord Husband.”

Jon fixed himself, clearing his throat awkwardly and standing up, moving to his wife’s side.

“I’ll leave you be,” he told them, walking out of the room.

Sansa looked from her cousin to his wife, feeling embarrassed in a completely different way.

“The other wives and I are having lunch,” she announced. “We were wondering if you would care to join us.”

She swallowed down, running her hands over her dress.

“Of course, your grace,” she accepted quickly. “But I believe I should change first.”

Princess Margaery waved her a hand, smiling, amused.

“Oh, you don’t need to, your dress is so lovely!” she exclaimed, looking at it. “So homely.”

Sansa clenched her teeth, swallowing down and trying to keep her face straight with the backhanded compliment.

The princess took her hand, leading her out of the room and into the quarters she had first entered, and they watched Jon leaving it.

“Besides,” she turned to her, smiling like she knew a secret. “We don’t want you and the king to spoil dessert, right?”

Sansa’s mouth went dry, and the flower between her thighs burned with the same fire Jon had elicited from her.

“Now come,” she patted her hand. “The girls are waiting for us.”

. . .

"The King's Wives" was posted on my Patreon back on June! To read the full story before anyone else and have early access to all of my works, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month!

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​​ @amythyststorm33​​​ @shaelyn102​​​ @yknott81​​​ ​​ @maximofftrash​​​ @kgbrenner​​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​​ @magpiegirl80​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @shadowhunter7​​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​​ @deemoriarty​​​ @05spn18​​​ @malindacath​​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​​ @widowsfics​​​ @frozenhuntress67​​​ @averyrogers83​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @giruvega

[desafrey]

  what a conniving little -

[letsasoiaftogether]

Heir of the Rock x The Rose (Full Length)

IMAGINE...being Tyrion’s twin/the youngest son to Lord Tywin, meeting your nephew’s betrothed, and (eventually) having a secret, treasonous affair with Queen Margaery

Word Count: 6,414

Warning: VERY brief mention of pregnancy-loss (nothing graphic/it’s just like a history of mention), canon-typical age differences, canon divergence (if that’s a warning!) SMUT about 5000+ words in, well under the read more!

A/n: One shot based off of this gif imagine, I hope you all enjoy! It’s a long one! I decided to do it this way instead of doing several small parts that would be posted separately! Sorry for any grammar errors! I tried to catch all the mistakes in typing it out/before posting!

A/n2: Purple Wedding didn’t happen so Joffrey is alive, Sansa is still in the Capital, Tyrion never went to trial, Tywin is alive, no Faith Militant, Others ARE a thing but...not quite THAT big of a problem yet, etc.

“Ser, may I introduce my sister, Lady Margaery Tyrell.”

You met the future Queen of Westeros in the gardens at the Red Keep. You had been walking alone, enjoying the smell of the plants all around you and the buzzing of people all around you, when you had come across Ser Loras and his younger sister.

You could still remember the way she had smiled at you the first time the two of you ever met.

Playful and teasing, like she knew a secret you didn’t.

It was breath taking, and if you had been a lesser man of lesser birth you would have fallen to your knees and begged for her love right there. You had only been in the capital for half a day at that point, but you had yet to see anyone as breath taking as her. Even growing up at the Rock, you were quick to hold the opinion that there was no one in the world that could challenge her.

“My Lady,” taking her offered hand, you bowed and pressed your lips to her knuckles – humming at the feeling of the soft skin of her hand pressed against the calloused, roughness of your own. “You will be a breath of fresh air to both House Baratheon and House Lannister. Dare I say, you will be the greatest beauty for any of us to behold since my dear, late mother passed away.” You hadn’t known your mother, the late Lady Joanna, but you had heard of her beauty and her fierceness. Two things the rose in front of you would need if she was going to marry, bed, and live with your psychopathic nephew.

“You flatter me, Ser.” She had laughed and pretended to be shy as she looked down, a light blush on her cheeks. Most would probably think she was blushing from embarrassment; you knew she was blushing because she enjoyed the compliments. The sly way she looked at you afterwards when you finally released her hand was enough to confirm your suspicions. “It is delightful to meet you. When I heard our noble King had a third Uncle, and a twin to Lord Tyrion at that, I knew I just had to meet you the first chance I got.”

Flattery. Rehearsed words all ladies in Westeros were taught to recycle and repeat whenever in public environments…you weren’t sure how much of what she said was true, but you were certain – either way – it was all rehearsed in her head just as you had been taught to tell an enemy what they wanted to hear in order to get what it was you wanted.

“Yes, unfortunately, I have to admit that Tyrion got all the looks between the two of us.” It was a joke you and Tyrion had shared since you were very young. So many others used it as cruelty toward your brother due to his stunted height, and so Tyrion and you had begun to use it as your own joke – a way to use their mockery against him by fashioning it into a suit of armor for your twin.

It was subtle, but you saw the small switch in her features before Margaery responded with a laugh and a “You jest, Ser!” No matter her feelings toward Tyrion, or your family as a whole, she didn’t appreciate people being mocked.

“In a way I suppose I do,” you admitted with a small smile, finally sparing a look in Ser Loras’ direction, noting how he had walked away a few feet to speak to a guard dressed in the colors and sigil of a house from the Reach. He was her chaperone, and not a very good one at that in your opinion.

Still, it did allow you and Margaery a bit of privacy even with the two of you being in a public setting.

Taking Margaery’s hand, you led her over to one of the small sitting areas that overlooked a stretch of the Blackwater. “Tyrion is my dearest brother; I beg of you to understand that.” You begun to explain, softly, as the two of you sat down. “He has been hated for his size and his looks our whole life. If he had been born normal, what most would consider normal, like me than he would have been spared such ridicule. But, alas, whereas you or I could have easily killed our mothers at our births and still been loved, Tyrion had a hand in killing our mother and simultaneously had a hand in insulting our Lord Father by being a half man.”

Every cruel joke and word that had been thrown at Tyrion throughout the near twenty-seven years you had been alive rang through your mind. You had always tried to protect him as much as you could. He was older than you, to some he nearly caused your own death with the violence he shown in ripping out of Lady Joanna and “nearly killing her on the spot.” But he was your brother, your twin, and he did not have your advantages. You had to protect him. No matter what. From your father, the banners of the west, your elder sister, and even from Tyrion himself.

“He is not perfect. He is spiteful and doesn’t seem to truly take anything serious. Like Jaime. He is most like our Father, I think. He will let an insult go for a time, but sooner or later, Tyrion always gets the revenge he deems he’s owed. But...he is my brother. I would never intentionally harm him physically or verbally.”

You needed her to know that you weren’t like your family. You needed Margaery to know that what you said before about Tyrion having all the looks was an inside joke between you and your twin.

Not only did you not want her to think ill of you, but you didn’t want her to think she had no allies at court and that she would have to be cruel to keep her place.

Please, you are most definitely not Cersei, Lady Margaery. Remain kind. Remain thoughtful.

The world so desperately needed such gentleness after all the pain and death.

“Ser,” her hand covered your own as she gave you a sweet smile, her brown eyes beaming, “Anyone who thinks you do not care about Lord Tyrion are foolish.”

“And what do you think of me?” You were half-teasing when you asked it, figuring she would laugh and give some comment of flattery that anyone would give to a Lannister and the (possible) future Lord of Casterly Rock.

There was a seriousness to her as Margaery lifted her free hand and placed it to your cheek, “That you see a great deal more than you let on. That you are not like your Father, sister, or brothers. That you…” she paused, her eyes flickering here and there as if she was searching for something specific that would lend her the correct words to use to describe her thoughts, “That you are one of a kind, Ser, and I find myself overjoyed to have had the opportunity to meet you and speak to you.”

It was your turn to be speechless.

It wasn’t anything new for you. You had always been more quiet, more internal and thoughtful.

Only now…now you wished you could find the words to say in response to that.

Instead, your mouth was dry.

And your heart had slowed to a pace that shouldn’t have brought you peace, but it did.

There was a calm inside of you as you held her gaze.

It wasn’t love. No. It was too early for that, and you felt that Margaery was far too young for you even if she was – if you remembered correctly – around sixteen and, thus, of age in the eyes of Westerosi customs.

But it was fondness.

And…wonder.

In all your years growing up at Casterly Rock, never had you dreamt that you would find an angel who would look past the reds and golds of your Father’s house and see you for who you were in private – not just for the mask you wore around everyone else.

Soft and warm, witty and charming…

How could you have ever dreamt of such a creature? The lions were known to be selfish, to believe only they were worth having the greatest treasures in the world, but never could you have ever selfishly dreamt up such a gift from the gods could exist in human form.

It was in that moment as you lifted her hand to your lips once more, placing a brief kiss to her palm, that you chose the path of selfishness. That you decided, then and there, no matter what, you would remain close to Margaery. Lady or Queen. You would not lose her companionship, no matter the form it was offered to you.

*

“…are trying to marry Sansa Stark to Willas Tyrell.” There was very little that was stopping you from not laughing at your Lord Father, the Hand of the King, as you sat in the Tower of the Hand with him, Cersei, and Tyrion.

Somehow, you managed to keep your amusement to yourself as you waited for the great Tywin Lannister to continue with whatever he had to say and get to the reason you had been summoned there beyond to tell you what House Tyrell was planning.

It didn’t surprise you, and honestly you supported it. Sansa, from what very little you knew of her, seemed the type to have been very happy at Highgarden. Plus, you knew that Willas Tyrell, the heir of Mace Tyrell and Margaery’s eldest brother, was intelligent and a decent enough person. He would be good for Sansa in time if he gave her the chance to heal and grow before expecting anything from her.

Far better than Joffrey, at the least.

“…we cannot allow that to happen.” Your father was saying as you refocused, “So, we must find Sansa Stark a new husband.”

“Good luck with that then.” Tyrion was skeptical, just as you were beginning to feel. There was a reason the two of you had been called there, and it was more than just the fact you were Lannisters.

You looked at your father and then at your sister, noticing the way your Father was looking at you with a look of expectation, as if he was waiting to see the moment the realization of his words struck you. Cersei was just smirking ugly as she always did when she was smug over knowing something others didn’t.

“Which of us?” The words fell from your tongue thickly, your throat squeezing in disgust

Naturally, Cersei opened her mouth to spew her hatred before your Lord Father had a chance to, “I think it should be Tyrion. Oh, how delightful that would be.” Her beautiful face was distorted with hatred, the lioness smirking openly at your twin brother who stared back at her in equal amount disbelief and dislike.

“She’s a child!” Tyrion protested, slamming shut the book he had brought in with him to discuss the costs of Margaery and Joffrey’s wedding, “Take her from Joffrey just to give her to me? How cruel can our family be to her?!”

“You should be grateful. This is far more than you deserve.” Cersei continued to mock him, but there was a bite to her words. She always did hate when she believed others were playing at being decent.

You listened to them argue back and forth but returned your gaze to your father. He had only spared his other two children a fleeting look before focusing back on you. It was the only answer you needed to know who he had chosen to secure the North for the crown.

She’s even younger than Margaery.

How old is she again? Thirteen? Fourteen in a few moons?

If Margaery is a child, does that make Sansa Stark an infant?

“I want to be the one to inform her, Father. That’s the only concession I ask for.” You had spent nearly every day of your life around your Tywin Lannister, you knew what you could say and what wouldn’t be immediately dismissed as if your Father had better things to listen to. You knew what was pointless in bringing up, “She’ll be miserable” or “This isn’t fair to her!” He wouldn’t care. He would roll his eyes and fire back with something cold and stern.

Your Father smirked, or his lips turned up ever so slightly in what you considered a smirk, and he nodded “Very well.” And he lifted his hand, his way of dismissing you.

You fled the room, for once not stopping to consider if Tyrion was staying or following.

There was a tightness in your chest, anger mixed with an understanding of the situation that brought disgust and hopelessness and resentment. You understood that House Stark was needed to truly secure the North and stop another rebellion (at the least, in your Father’s life time), and you understood why it was better for your House to have that control over any other – especially the Tyrells who were just as (if not more) powerful than your Father’s house.

That didn’t mean you had to be okay with it.

That didn’t mean that you couldn’t be disgusted with it all.

You were nearly a decade and a half older than Sansa Stark. There was no way you could go through with what your father believed would happen.

Wed her, Bed her, Put a child in her…

There was no doubt that he had silently thrown the command at you, but you refused. You wouldn’t do that to Sansa. You couldn’t…

That’s not who I want to be.

Worried that another would tell Sansa, you went straight to her and found the eldest daughter to Ned Stark with Margaery and her cousins, in the Maiden Vault, seated on plush cushions surrounding a table covered with deserts.

You nearly changed your mind when you realized this, not wanting to say anything in front of the Tyrells – whether because you were trying to keep it all a secret or because you didn’t want Margaery to think poorly of you, you couldn’t be sure.

“My Lady?” you spoke softly as you moved toward Sansa, bowing once she had looked up and met your gaze, “My apologies for bothering you. We must speak, urgently.”

“Ser Y/N!” Margaery laughed, reaching for your hand in an attempt to pull you down so you’d be seated beside her.

You shook your head, refusing her offer while staring at the auburn haired girl you would soon cloak and bring under your protection.

Sansa was seated across from you, her gaze confused and apprehensive. Delicately as you knew the Stark girl often acted, she placed her half-eaten lemon cake back onto her plate and dropped her hands into her lap. “Ser, I’m not sure what we could have to talk about.” She wasn’t rude about it, just confused and uncertain. No doubt, after all the horrors your nephew had put her through, she was waiting to finally be told she would be killed as her father had been.

Or, worse, married to Joffrey after all.

“Lord Tywin, my father, has just informed me of a decision he and the King have made just this morning. A decision that concerns you, My Lady, in which I requested to be given leave to tell you myself.” The words fell robotically from your lips, just as the words of flattery had fallen from Margaery’s weeks earlier. Your tongue felt heavy, and it took all you had to not stutter over your words.

You watched Margaery look from the Stark girl to you and back, her own hands which were in her own lap turned white as she seemed to realize the possibility of your family learning of the Tyrells plot.

Sansa’s eyes were wide and her voice shook only slightly as she whispered, “What is it, Ser? What does your House want from me now?”

You closed your eyes, unable to look at her as you whispered, “Your name.” and half a heartbeat later you explained, briefly, “We are to be wed.”

You were met with silence and looks of shocked horror.

*

The Small Council was more than annoyed at the fact you were so stubbornly against consummating your marriage, more than once threatening to annual the marriage or find another Lannister to do the job instead, but even two years into your union with Sansa Stark, your father had yet to follow through with the threat.

Just as you knew he would.

You were his heir. If he or someone else even appeared to bed your wife in your stead, that would only cause rumors that you weren’t capable of fathering children or that Sansa was infertile. At the least, as far as most of the realm believed, you and Sansa shared a bed but were simply slow at producing your first heir.

Besides, after you had brought up your concerns about Sansa dying in childbirth alongside the child due to her young age and undeveloped body, even being backed by studies recorded by the Maesters of the Citadel, your lord father reluctantly stepped down a little.

“She will be turning sixteen soon,” Margaery, the Queen of Westeros for two years now, mentioned one morning as the two of you walked the gardens with your ten-year-old nephew, Tommen, who you had taken as your squire shortly after marrying Sansa. “No doubt, your continued insistence that she isn’t old enough or prepared enough to be a mother will be mute.” It was her way of warning you. She always did her best to keep you aware of her husband’s moods and feelings toward anything and everyone at court.

You considered her words as you watched Tommen lean over to brush his hand through the water in one of the many bird baths before moving to do the same to the fountain a few feet away.

She knew all too well the expectations placed on young, noble ladies to conceive and birth children. The Small Council had given her a year to grow with the King’s child, and yet nothing seemed to take root. It was well known that Joffrey visited her bed nearly every night for that first year without success, and then for half a year after that he had visited her several times a day, and the last few months he seemed to grow bored with her and had begun to visit her – instead – every other day, there were some weeks he had only visited her twice.

“I will need to consummate our marriage, yes.” You had, with difficulty, acknowledged this fact days earlier when Sansa herself had mentioned her upcoming nameday – she had been asking you about the chances of traveling to Casterly Rock during it. She had yet to be there, and she was inquiring about the likelihood of being able to meet and visit with her Uncle Edmure Tully who was a permanent prisoner resident of the Rock alongside his Frey wife and their daughter.

You had told her that you would ask your Father and the conversation had been dropped, but it had also made you realize how your time of fighting the inevitable was coming to an end. Sooner rather than later you would have to bed your Lady Wife.

“Just as the crown is going to have to do something in regards to the King.” You grabbed Margaery’s hand and waited for her to stop walking before whispering, “Joffrey seems incapable of producing children. Or the two of you are not right for each other. They will have him sleep with a whore or get him a noble mistress, someone they can trust not to talk if she fails to fall with child in a time the council believes appropriate.” Turning your body to face her fully, you added, “There is no telling what my nephew will do should another fall pregnant with his child.”

Everyone knew he was practically Maegor the Cruel reborn. And he had only gotten worse since he had turned sixteen, coming of age, and calling off what little regency he had.

Margaery didn’t try to talk circles around you. It had been too long since she had done that when the two of you were alone.  Instead, she nodded and asked, “What do you suggest, Ser? There is only so much I can do, even as Queen.”

There were fertility teas, but as far as you knew, Margaery had already been made to try well over two dozen variations. None with any success. There were rumored positions and times of day/week that were said to work best for those trying to fall pregnant. There had been no success with those either.

Everyone wanted to blame Margaery, but you were one of the few who believed the King was at fault.

There were no signs that Margaery, nor House Tyrell, had issues with fertility or childbearing; however, the rumors of Joffrey’s conception being as they were…you could easily understand how such things could affect fertility.

Look at the Targaryens, after all. Sure, most were able to conceive, but how many were stillbirths and miscarriages.

There was, really, only one sure fire way to see if Margaery was infertile or not…

The thought alone made you shift from one foot to another, your hand moving to the hilt of your sword as if to fend off an invisible enemy.

It was an act of treason, and whoever suggested it could be killed. The person that actually took part in it would…well, who knew what Joffrey would creatively come up with as a method of torture.

“Y/n?” Margaery’s hand on your cheek drew you from your thoughts, a look of curiosity and concern was written across her face.

“I cannot say it, Your Grace. It’s not wise or safe to say.” You covered her hand with yours, grateful for the softness of her touch. Leaning closer to her, you whispered, “You must become with child, one that could be passed off as His Grace’s, and soon.”

You left her there as one of Margaery’s cousins came around the corner of the hedge and quickly approached the Queen.

As you reached the edge of the gardens near one of the many castle doors that led inside, you glanced over your shoulder at the Queen – watching as her soft, brown locks blew slightly in the wind, her big, brown eyes holding hers as her Hightower cousin whispered in her ear. You offered her a smile and bowed, never taking your gaze from her’s as you thought, Remember this. I will do whatever you ask of me. I am yours to do with as you please. Your faithful servant, My Queen, until my dying day.

*

You heard later that Margaery was summoned to the throne room after your walk in the gardens. That was what her cousin had been sent to inform her. Joffrey had been awaiting her, his Kingsguard and Small Council in attendance. The prick had scolded her for not doing her duties, for spending all her time with Sansa and with you. Your nephew had accused her of being a whore and reminded her that House Tyrell would be nothing without the Lannisters, that Margaery would be nothing without Joffrey.

You were told this by a servant that night as you sat having dinner with Sansa. The two of you sat in stunned silence as the servant told everything. Even for someone as cruel as Joffrey, you wouldn’t have expected some of the things he had said.

“I wish I could be surprised.” Sansa whispered as the two of you laid in bed, her in her shift and you in your trousers (as you never slept naked in each other’s presence), her head on your chest had become habit when she was upset “I just feel so awful for her. I wish I knew if she was alright.” Your young wife sniffled and instinctively you tightened your arms around her.

“Would you like to go and see her? I am sure she would appreciate the company.” It wasn’t yet too late. The two of you often laid down early so you would be left alone by others and could have time to think over your days. No doubt, Margaery would still be awake for several hours.

“What if His Grace is with her?” Sansa didn’t sound afraid as she would have two years prior. Her voice was still soft, the words sounded rehearsed as she had learned to say them in, but instead of being afraid of Joffrey, your young wife had grown annoyed and angry, and often – privately – whispered to you how it was “for the best” that she wasn’t her younger sister, Arya, or else the King would be dead – or his death would be near.

You weren’t sure how much of it was an exaggeration in terms of how her younger sister was like, but you had very little doubt of Sansa’s capabilities if given the opportunity.

Gently, you eased Sansa’s head from your chest and got to your feet. “I pity him if Joffrey turns up at the Queen’s chambers tonight. No doubt, Ser Loras has been stationed inside his sister’s room as a deterrent to any who dare enter.” Moving over to the balcony, you pulled the doors shut and slipped the lock into place. “Or, I can always go and check on her myself in case my nephew is there, and then report back to you.” Whether Sansa was braver and smarter now than she had been, you knew her fear still gripped her sometimes when around your family.

“Please,”

Your heart could have broken at the sound of that single word.

It still surprised you how caring Sansa could be toward others, even more so than Margaery sometimes. It made you want to wrap the girl in your arms and shield her with your own life.

Moving back over to the bed, you cupped Sansa’s face in your hands and placed a kiss to her forehead. It was the only amount of intimacy beyond holding her in bed (and holding hands) that you allowed between the two of you. You were still so reluctant against using her in such a way.

“You are a delight to me, My Lady.” You sweetly complimented before pulling away to dress.

You noticed the color to Sansa’s cheeks and the way she thanked you so shyly as you went to turn away. It was yet another reason for you to stand firm on the boundaries you had created between the two of you.

As you slipped into the hall, you heard Sansa slip the board into place across the door – it was a another, small rule you had set from your first day of marriage. She was never alone in your chambers without the lock in place.

You had a single guard outside your door, one you had trusted your whole life and who you knew to be loyal to you and no one else. As you stepped past him, you softly ordered him to remain there and protect your wife. And should anyone wish to see you, that you were indisposed due to “attempting to do your duty.” Purposefully, you left the meaning up to interpretation.

The walk to the Queen’s chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast was brief thanks to the placement of your own rooms. Less than ten minutes and Ser Loras was greeting you with a stiff bow. It was obvious he was tense and angry.

“Is she alone?” you asked the white knight, gaze flickering over his Kingsguard armor and the hilt of the sword at his side.

The third son to Mace Tyrell nodded, stiffly, and said “As she has been all evening.” And he stepped inside the room to announce you.

After a brief few moments of muffled voices, Ser Loras stepped back out and gestured you inside.

You wasted no time in doing so, bowing lowly as soon as you were inside with the door shut behind you.

Margaery was in bed, but she wasn’t prepared for bed. It just looked as if she had chosen to lay down out of boredom or a headache. She looked troubled, but not as if she had been crying.

Thank the gods, it doesn’t look like Joffrey had been cruel enough to strike her.

That was something you had been most worried about since being told by the servant what had happened. Ever since Sansa had softly whispered that were she in Margaery’s position, Joffrey wouldn’t have hesitated to have Ser Meryn hit her.

“He used to do it all the time.”

“Ser Y/n,” Margaery smiled and held out her hand, silently telling you that you could move closer. She didn’t get out of bed, and as you took her hand to kiss her knuckles you couldn’t help but notice she was shaking ever so slightly.

Had you been crying after all?

Clearing your throat, you explained your being there with, “Sansa was concerned for you and wishes she could come herself, but I fear she was worried that His Grace would be here. I came in her stead.” As you remained standing next to the bed, Margaery’s hand clutched in your own as you tried to figure out what to say and how to comfort her.

It wasn’t like you could go and punch some sense into the King.

As tempting as that is.

“I must become with child.” Margaery spoke as if you hadn’t said anything, her smile glued to her lips even as her eyes seemed a distant. As if she was physically in that room, but mentally she was in her own world. Her voice was robotic as if someone had a blade to her throat and she was simply repeating what was fed to her from behind. “I am the Queen, you see, and I have been remiss in my duties. Our gracious King reminded me of that today. I must do my duty to my hus…”

You slapped a hand over her lips without really thinking, something sparking in your chest pushing you to silence her before she could say anything further. You were pissed and you were barely holding yourself back.

How fucking long will we all stand on the side watching this damned, cursed city make people less than who they truly are?

How many times will be stand by and let my sister and brother’s bastard son be so cruel before someone puts him in his place?

Her fingers wrapped around your wrist and after a moment of you just standing there, half bent over her, breathing heavily and trying to decide if you wanted to hold her or scold her, you let Margaery pull your hand away so she could speak.

“I know that Joffrey might not be able to father my children, Ser.” One hand kept ahold of your wrist as the other pressed against your covered chest, “I know that I will have to find a suitable replacement.”

Lannister green eyes met the dark brown of her own as her words set in.

Margaery slid her hand lower, her voice dropping lower in what you knew to be the flirtatious tone she used when being playful and teasing, and murmured “That is what you had been suggesting this morning, isn’t it?”

“Your Grace,” you were breathless, no amount of experience could ever prepare you for a beautiful, kind temptress like the Rose of Highgarden.

“Your Queen asked you a question, Y/n.” She was laughing at you, a small giggle slipping past her lips as she stood, pressing her body to yours.

You cursed, but you returned her smile as well.

*

Your first night didn’t happen on that visit. If the two of you were going to risk your lives, you both knew you would have to play it safe.

Margaery began drinking fertility teas as often as was safe enough to do, the two of you slowly distanced yourself from one another to lesson suspicion and make it appear as if the Queen had silently renewed her vows to your nephew, and you pleaded with your lord father until you had been given permission to take Sansa to the Westerlands for half a year.

It was four moons later on the eve of your departure back to the Rock when you finally made love to Margaery for the first time.

Joffrey had gone hunting that afternoon, but that morning he had ordered Margaery to his bed. It was perfect. Should your seed quicken within the young queen, no one – Joffrey especially – would have any reason to believe someone other than the bastard himself was father.

You met Margaery in the godswood under the heart tree an hour after Joffrey had ridden under the southern gate of the city. You were dressed in the red and golds of your house, and she was dressed in the greens and golds of her own. In some, delusion and silly part of your brain, you made the silent joke that it was as if the two of you were getting married.

“Are you certain?” you asked as you took her hand and led her over to the blanket you had laid out behind the oak tree, hidden from view of anyone unless they chose to walk close enough.

Margaery just smiled and closed the space between your bodies, leaning up to press her lips to your cheek.

One more, single look from her and it was enough to have your arms wrapping around her body and kissing her for the very first time.

Her lips were soft and tasted of honey from her afternoon snack. They moved with yours in fluid motion, giving control to you as you did the same in return.

Your bodies felt perfect together. Your arms wrapped tightly around her, one of your hands on the small of her back and the other tangled in the long, thick brown curls of her hair. Her hands clung to the back of your head, her nails digging into your hair and the nape of your neck. Her figure was small but womanly, and you could only imagine how even more beautiful she would be when the effects of motherhood took hold. Your own figure was broad shouldered and muscled, not quite like your older brother Jaime, but you weren’t scrawny by any means.

The two of you let your clothes fall wherever as you undressed, your lips and hands moving all over each other – doing your best to explore Margaery as she did the same in return – even as you lifted her briefly just so you could lay her down and settle yourself on top of her.

“You are beautiful,” you murmured, brushing the tips of your fingers down the side of her face then her neck, collarbone, and to her small breasts. “I will be jealous at the fact he will lay with you when I am not.” Perhaps it was stupid to admit it in that moment, but you wanted her to know. Needed her to know.

Margaery whispered your name and pulled you close for another, soothing kiss. “My sweet, loyal knight. My lion protector. My Lord of Casterly Rock.” She was pleased by your words; you could tell by the smirk she wore as she spoke against your lips.

Cursing in a shaky breath, you lined your cock up with Margaery’s entrance and buried your face in her neck as you give a sharp thrust of hips.

Am I any better than Jaime? All he has done has been for love. And what I’m doing now? It’s not to get some sort of revenge on Joffrey on Sansa’s behalf. No. This…this is my desire for Margaery, my love for my nephew’s wife. My…my love and desire and my fear that if something isn’t done that Joffrey will kill…

Gritting your teeth and pulling yourself away from dark thoughts, you settled yourself on your arms and took the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms as your own.

With a roughness you would feel bad about afterwards, but which Margaery seemed to love all too much, you left bruises with your mouth and your hands on her pale skin knowing Joffrey and the maids wouldn’t question them (if they even noticed).

Margaery left her own marks on you, angry red claw marks that bled in a few places and she littered your neck and shoulders in bruises as she tried to quiet herself and not draw attention to your coupling.

The two of you carried on for hours, and you made sure to take your sweet rose in every position rumored to help conceive, flashing a smirk up at her as Margaery sat, straddling your hips, shaking from yet another orgasm as you continued to thrust up into her. Both of you had found your release multiple times, Margaery had the natural advantage of being a woman and you had always been blessed with a high endurance to such activities.

Three more, quick and sharp thrusts later, and you filled your lover with your seed once more, continuing to give slow, lazy thrusts until your balls were empty and you stilled. Margaery had fallen limp and quiet before you had finished and as you settled and tried to catch your breath, your wrapped your arms around her, holding her close.

“You know,” she whispered several, long minutes earlier when she had finally caught her breath and regained some strength, “I will be jealous of Sansa, I think, when she finally falls heavy with your child. It will be difficult to share you, even if it is truly she who is sharing you first.”

You kissed Margaery’s forehead and tilted her head up so you could meet her gaze, “I will have to tell her about us. She will be hurt, and I am sorry that she will be hurt. I will explain our reasoning, I cannot keep this from her. I…I know she will come to understand. I hope anyway.”

“Hope,” the brunette whispered as she laid her head back on your shoulder and shut her eyes.

You let her rest for a while, your arms wrapped around her, and a mix of worry and glee for the future clouding your thoughts.

[a-libra-writes]

Hi! Kind of a weird request, but I love collecting perfume and was wondering what kind of scents some of the asoiaf folks would either wear or like their partners to wear? I feel like some of the big tough men would pretend not to care, but do actually have a favorite. Whichever characters you think would fit. Thanks I love your writing!

oh this is fun! also im kind of a noob when it comes to perfumes so pls accept this shortie :>

Quite a fan of perfumes and really love your's in particular:

Sansa and Margaery were delighted when they were old enough to wear perfumes, and they both tried out different scents until they found something just right. Sansa likes to chat scents with you and gets a little flustered if you want to share your's. Margaery insists on sharing now and again; she loves to smell like you when you aren't around. She'll tease you endlessly for having a rose-scented perfume, though. Isn't that a little passe? Or do you just like her that much? Margaery loves a strong floral scent, while Sansa prefers a mix of foresty and berry scents.

For Arianne, she has her signature that she sprays on her clothes and herself. It's probably amber, vanilla and a strong citrus and she adores it. It's more feminine than seductive, but certainly not a gentle and 'light' femme. She also the type to chat perfumes with you and help you find a "signature"; probably something unique made for you. She keeps a tiny vial for herself, just for when she misses you. Not that she'll ever confess to it.

Petyr is very much into perfumes, as he uses them himself - he's particular how they smell and where they're made, and he probably knows how ingredients will mix. Naturally he picks up on whatever you wear and he'll appreciate it, but... wouldn't it be a fine gift to have something custom made, with special ingredients? Everytime you wear it, he has to keep himself from pouncing on you, especially in polite company. Maybe it's kind of a kink ...?

Oberyn - Quite fond of scents himself; he loves spices and citrus with a dash of something hard to place, like maybe notes of the sea and sand. Oberyn will openly compliment you on how lovely you smell, and likes it when you change things up. He likes to guess what the ingredients are and pretends he needs to get extra close to be sure.

Didn't think much of them until you wore them:

Robb & Edmure - The sort of men who know ladies wear perfume, but insist your's is somehow different and more special. It could be a scent that's wildly popular and every lady has, but they're positive it's different on you. Edmure is not above pulling you into a tight hug and nuzzling your hair, where some of it has settled on. Robb really loves the small amount that remains on your neck and arms after you've taken a hot bath.

Daenerys - Perfumes were not a luxury afforded to her, so she's not sure what to wear. She kinda just goes with whatever the custom is wherever she's staying, or what her handmaidens recommend. If you personally recommend something (or gods forbid, make it) because it made you think of her... Well, that's all she wants to wear, thank you very much.

Davos - Obviously this man hasn't been around perfumed ladies his whole life, so when he picks up that you smell lovely and it's because of a perfume, he suddenly feels embarrassed for enjoying it so much. It feels a little weird to stand so close and still remain there after you leave, enjoying whatever you're wearing. He's too shy to outright comment on it, even when you're together.

Tyrion - Wears a nice scent most of the time, but he really loves whatever you wear and remembers it for future reference. If he can get something like that, or similar, and you wear it, he's very happy. Tyrion likes the more unique scents you wear, and having you describe them to him. He starts to learn the different scents and notes and how they work together. Very interesting.

Very fond of a specific scent they attribute to you and get confused/don't like it when you switch them:

Stannis - He's just generally very aware of when you change something about yourself. Stannis is too embarrassed to compliment any specific scent though, even if he can tell them apart. He can't really pick out his favorite, either... one of them just seems "right". The "one you wear all the time", he calls it. Not "the other one". Yeah, he can tell them apart, but he has no idea what the specific ingredients or name is.

Ned - He doesn't have much experience with perfumes, but he'll start to really like a subtle, everyday scent you wear. The special occasion ones can be too much. Ned probably likes something distinct that can't be found in the North, like citrus or rose. Really loves it when it's left behind on your pillows or when it rubs off on him. If you change it suddenly, he's kinda disappointed.

Jorah - Will never admit how much he likes picking up some of your perfume on your own skin when you're together, and how comforting such a scent can be - if it's something unique from Essos, he attributes that specific spice or flower with you only. If it's more Westerosi, it makes him painfully and sweetly homesick. If you ever change it up, he notices immediately and kinda hopes you'll switch back to your tried and true. He actually has a good nose for these things but thinks it's kind of weird, so he won't comment ... Though he likes to bring you nice-smelling oils and candles he finds at the markets.

Tywin - Well, a little bit of this section and the one above. The only time Tywin really cared is when it came to Joanna, because she had a signature scent she just adored and always wore. He hates smelling anything remotely close to that now. If your perfume had something similar, he'd displeased at best or at worst, tell you to stop wearing it. If your's is utterly different and also your "signature", he starts getting those strong associations again. Honestly hates it when he assumes you entered the room, but it turns out some other lady is wearing it. Awful. He glares her and her husband into oblivion until you show up.

Wait, perfume? Ladies don't just smell nice?

Theon, Victarion, Robert, Brandon, Bronn, Jon - Honestly the types to get really hung up on how nice you smell, especially if it's a specific unique scent you love to wear, and are startled to realize it's something you actually put on.

Theon likes things that are more "flashy" and strong - he wonders why the hell he thought it was natural, but he really likes it. He won't grab your wrist outright to smell, but he wishes he could.

Victarion likes more amber, smoky scents. Something too overtly "foreign", like citruses and strong florals, is just too jarring (again, how did he think this was natural?). A surprising favorite is gentle lavenders and patchoulis.

Brandon, Jon and Robert like "light" and feminine scents, like florals or slight foresty smells. Bronn knows perfumes exist but doesn't think about them until he notices you put it on. Well, whatever. Ladies do that, he just forgot. Bronn and Robert in particular are used to the harsh strong perfumes and incense from whorehouses, so something more "subtle" is nice.

"Meh":

Roose - He doesn't think much of it, except that his previous wife was fond of various perfumes. Roose rather likes it when you stick to one scent; it makes telling when you've been in a room easier, and he knows when you've entered one whilst his back is turned. He likes when it's leftover on your bedding or his skin, too. Well, maybe he doesn't mind it. He certainly doesn't go out of his way to comment, even if you've changed it up.

Edd - I mean, what perfumes are you gonna find on the Wall? And his Lady mother certainly couldn't afford any. They make him sneeze, anyway.

Sandor - Every lord and lady at the Red Keep douses themselves in the stuff, especially to distract from the general sewer smell of King's Landing. Ugh. They probably give him a headache.

Asha/Yara - She also forgets they exist because she and her lady mother don't use them; it's not like average Ironborn women bother. She's amused if you like them, though. It's just one of those quirks you have. She likes to say she always knows when you enter the room because suddenly it doesn't smell like seawater and blood anymore.

Cersei - Every lady ought to wear one and have a specific scent, especially considering how awful the servants and smallfolk smell. She doesn't think much about it apart from one more thing she has to do for her morning routine.

Ramsay - Surprisingly sensitive to strong scents. They make him feel nauseous if they're too sweet and he gets sneezy if they're too floral. Yeah, he doesn't appreciate it much. If you wore something very light he'd probably assume you just smelled nice naturally.

[bellarkeselection]

Hi! I thought you might write a Tyrion x Reader where the reader is maybe a Tyrell or some highborn and is actually looking for a witty, intellectual man and not a brute or a knight. When she meets Tyrion and he can keep up with her banter she makes it her goal to have him?

No Typical Lord

Request from @my-current-fandom-is Y/n Tyrell is looking for isn't like the typical man of Westeros. She meets Tyrion during the financial planning of her sister's wedding.

Shuffling past more annoying lords I run my hands through my hair groaning in frustration. I can't deal with another normal lord or knight. That thinks they can win me over with jewels or fancy titles by just being in the Kingsgaurd. The feasts are all the same. Loud music and dancing. Ladies giggling about dresses. Lords getting drunk on their ass willing to bed any young maiden they can. I want some who gets my sense of humor, who can't take down alcohol without falling on their ass, someone who sees me as more than someone to take to bed at night.

My chances of finding someone like that isn't very good odds. Resting my chin on my arms I look out the window seeing the vast city out in front of me. I only agreed to come to Kings Landing with my sister Margaery in the hopes of finding a man. My grandmother helped me escape an arranged marriage. More concerned with her other grandchild marrying King Joffrey and becoming Queen of Westeros. In my opinion I don't know what anyone sees in that twit. He may be a royal but he's viscous on the inside, I can just feel it.

"Unbelievable. I find a way to save the crown thousands of money and he doesn't even hear anything I have to say." Lifting my head up slightly I hear someone coming down the hall from the Hand of the King Chambers. The sunlight brightens blonde hair you'd know anywhere that belongs to any of the Lannister children. But this one brings a small smile to my face. "Hello, Lord Tyrion." I greeted once he stopped in his tracks leaning against the wall beside me. "Hello my lady..." He runs his hands down his face in frustration. Shifting a little I turn to face him inquiring about his stance. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He starts to shake his head no but starts complaining about fiancee and how no one seems to understand him. "It's ridiculous. He names me master of coin but doesn't want to hear about it. He calls me an imp one minute then says you're a Lannister the next!" He suddenly starts walking away calling over his shoulder for me. "Care to join me for a few drinks, Lady Y/n?" Picking up the skirts of my dress I hurry after the little lord who leads me to a brothal near the Red Keep. He climbed up on a barstool ne following to sit beside him. Someone slides cups of wine to each of us. Lifting the cup to my lips I start slowly chugging the contents.

"My, my a lady who can hold her liquor I'm impressed." Tyrion complimented drinking the rest of his ordering two more for us. A light blush meets my face as I smile at the young lion. "Oh uh thanks Tyrion. Although I'm sure no one would care I can read or write either." He slowly sat down his cup, eyebrows furrowed in suprise. "You can. How have I not noticed this?" He rests a hand to his forehead in shock. "I must be becoming a normal man of Westeros." Brushing some hair behind my ear I stare in his green eyes. You're nothing like a normal Lord, Tyrion Lannister.

Tyrion taps his chin thinking out loud. "Y/n, I think you and I are were meant to be together. Like the Gods made it so. And I don't typically have belief in much of anything, except for this...what do you say?" He raises his wine glass staring into my eyes. Lifting my cup to clinch with his we both take the wine down like a shot. "Tyrion Lannister, I think you're the man I've been searching for." He smiled brightly back at me, thinking the same about you.

Comment and reblog 🤗

[jeynearrynofthevale]

Sansa Stark is a lesbian and here’s why:

So, in honor of sapphicsansafest, I’m making a meta master post about why I believe Sansa is a lesbian. This will include a few quotes and I’m going to separate it into a few sections.

Sansa’s descriptions of other women:

“The queen was drinking heavily, but the wine only seemed to make her more beautiful; her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had a bright, feverish heat to them as she looked down over the hall. Eyes of wildfire, Sansa thought.”

Even when Sansa hates Cersei, her descriptions of her are always focused around her beauty. The way she describes her eyes and cheeks is also similar to the way the men that are attracted to Cersei describe her.

“Twenty mules awaited them within the waycastle, along with two mule-walkers and the Lady Myranda Royce. Lord Nestor’s daughter proved to be a short, fleshy woman, of an age with Mya Stone, but where Mya was slim and sinewy, Myranda was soft-bodied and sweet-smelling, broad of hip, thick of waist, and extremely buxom. Her thick chestnut curls framed round red cheeks, a small mouth, and a pair of lively brown eyes.”

Similarly, her description of Myranda is very focused around her looks and specific details like her being “sweet smelling” and “extremely buxom” seem to point towards Sansa being attracted to Margaery. Once again Sansa’s descriptions of women mimic the way straight men describe them. Sansa’s interactions with Myranda are something I'll comment on later.

“Sansa had never been this close to the Dornishwoman before. She is not truly beautiful, she thought, but something about her draws the eye.”

Her description of Ellaria is also interesting as it helps show that the way Sansa thinks about women isn’t solely an aesthetic appreciation. She also enjoys the way unconventionally attractive women look.

“Slim and sinewy, Mya looked as tough as the old riding leathers she wore beneath her silvery ringmail shirt. Her hair was black as a raven's wing, so short and shaggy that Alayne suspected that she cut it with a dagger. Mya's eyes were her best feature, big and blue. She could be pretty, if she would dress up like a girl. Alayne found herself wondering whether Ser Lothor liked her best in her iron and leather, or dreamed of her gowned in lace and silk.”

This might be the best example of Sansa’s attraction to women. She once again thinks about the beauty of a woman who isn’t conventionally attractive and she even comments on her eyes. She then contextualizes her attraction by convincing herself that she’s thinking from a man’s perspective. In reality though she’s thinking about how Mya looks her best to her and is unable to really think of that because it's not considered proper.

“When Margaery Tyrell smiled, she looked very like her brother Loras.”

This one is pretty self explanatory. She thinks of how lovely Margaery looks repeatedly and when Margaery is admirable and happy, she once again contextualizes her attraction by bringing a man into the picture.

My thoughts on her “crushes” on men:

Now, her 3 real crushes in the books are Joffrey Baratheon, Loras Tyrell, and Waymar Royce. They all follow a very similar template. Men straight out of the songs and stories that Sansa loves.

“Sansa did not really know Joffrey yet, but she was already in love with him. He was all she ever dreamt her prince should be, tall and handsome and strong, with hair like gold.”

And

“Joffrey smiled and kissed her hand, handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs.”

Joffrey is someone Sansa likes because he’s the prince out of songs, the idealized prince in the stories. And Sansa loves songs and stories so she thinks she loves Joffrey. When she comments on Joffrey’s beauty, it’s almost always in the context of songs or stories. He’s also the easiest crush, her betrothed who she has to learn to love.

“Ser Gregor was the monster and Ser Loras the true hero who would slay him. He even looked a true hero, so slim and beautiful, with golden roses around his slender waist and his rich brown hair tumbling down into his eyes.”

And

“Wed to Ser Loras, oh . . . Sansa's breath caught in her throat. She remembered Ser Loras in his sparkling sapphire armor, tossing her a rose. Ser Loras in white silk, so pure, innocent, beautiful.”

Loras is also an ideal out of the songs. Sansa says it herself. He’s the hero she wants. She always thinks of him in that context. It makes sense that she crushes on him. He’s a safe easy crush. It’s like the asoiaf equivalent of crushing on some guy in a boyband.

Sansa’s interactions with Margaery

“You will love Highgarden as I do, I know it.” Margaery brushed back a loose strand of Sansa’s hair. “Once you see it, you’ll never want to leave. And perhaps you won’t have to.”

The way Margaery tries to appeal to Sansa and talk to her almost echoes a flirtation. Pushing a strand of hair behind someone’s ear is a textbook romantic move. And the persuasion relies on Sansa liking Margaery and is all about finding love.

“”Margaery’s kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything.”

The way Sansa thinks of Margaery is quite striking and loving. It is as though Margaery was this big important force in Sansa’s life.

“Margaery was different, though. Sweet and gentle, yet there was a little of her grandmother in her, too. The day before last she’d taken Sansa hawking.”

Sansa also goes on what pretty much amounts to dates with Margaery. And the sentiment of Margaery being different is very similar to Arya’s thoughts on Gendry: “Only Gendry was different” and their relationship is often considered to have romantic undertones. It’s also interesting that gentle is used to describe Margaery when that is one of the words Ned used to describe Sansa’s future romance.

“She is so brave, Sansa thought, galloping after her.”

Sansa clearly admires Margaery immensely and her thoughts are always complimentary. She clearly crushes on her.

Sansa’s interactions with Myranda:

And you must be the Lord Protector’s daughter,” she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. “I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true.”

Alayne curtsied. “My lady is kind to say so.”

“Kind?” The older girl gave a laugh. “How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked. You must tell me all your secrets on the ride down. May I call you Alayne?”

The complimenting of Sansa’s beauty is another common trope in flirtation. And the way she interacts is very sexual and ostentatious. It’s flirty. And asking to call someone by their first name is also a romantic trope.

“Randa. It seems a hundred years since I was four-and-ten. How innocent I was. Are you still innocent, Alayne?”

She blushed. “You should not ... yes, of course.”

Sansa is nervous around Myranda in a way she’s not around men. She even blushes. Myranda is also directly questioning Sansa about her sexual experience.

“Despite herself, Alayne found herself warming to the older girl.”

She starts developing a crush.

“She is trying to make me blush again.

Lady Myranda must have heard her thoughts. “You do turn such a pretty shade of pink. When I blush I look quite like an apple. I have not blushed for years, though.” She leaned closer.”

Once again, this is super flirty and seductive. She’s complimenting Sansa on her blush and implying her own experience. This whole conversation is ripe with that stuff.

“She ate with Mya and Myranda. “So you’re brave as well as beautiful,” Myranda said to her.

“No.” The compliment made her blush. “I’m not. I was so scared. I don’t think I could have crossed without Lord Robert.”

Once again Sansa blushes at Myranda’s comments.

“By the time they finally reached her father’s castle, Lady Myranda was drowsing too, and Alayne was dreaming of her bed.”

This is some interesting word play. It might not be intentional but ships like Braime have similar lines.

And a few miscellaneous/bonus things:

“Septa Mordane said all men are beautiful, find his beauty, try.”

This is how Sansa thinks about Tyrion. She’s a child forcibly married to him so she’d probably judge him harshly regardless but this phrasing struck me. It’s very similar to the way lgbtq people are often told to try to love another gender even if they cannot. And the way Septa Mordane taught Sansa about attraction and gender obviously has a huge influence on her perception of her own sexuality.

“When a serving girl brought her supper, she almost kissed her.”

And this is Sansa thinking about kissing a girl.

“I am coming for you, Lady Sansa, she thought as she rode into the darkness. Be not afraid. I shall not rest until I've found you.”

The fact that the true knight Sansa wishes for, the hero out of the stories, the romantic trope is Brienne, a woman, has some awesome queer implications. Even if her relationship with Brienne isn’t really a romantic one, it certainly fits the idea of courtly love.

[sailorshadzter]

Hiii! Welcome back!!! If you are still taking requests, how about an one shot where Cersei kind of notices the tension between Jon and Sansa and comments on it? Maybe in a "We are not so different" way? Or she straight up encourages them bc she's a horrible person and thinks if there are rumors about the Starks, they'll forget about the Lannisters?

ANON. whew this has been in my ask box for a while! but i opened my inbox to find some inspiration to write and yours was the one that clicked first! so i hope you see this, anon, wherever you are, and know that i FINALLY got to your prompt request!!!

as always, you're always welcome to drop a prompt request in my inbox.

enjoy!

The ball is grand and glittering.

Cersei has ensured that this night would be perfect, putting far more coin into it than Robert ever would have allowed. But there is little else she can do, what with the trouble brewing all around them. She's lost one son already, she will not lose another- and so she has gone to great expense and trouble to make sure that this room was full of loyal nobles and fearsome knights. This wedding would not end the way the last one had, even if the bride was the same.

From where she sits, she watches as the young Sansa Stark dances with her half brother, the bastard born Jon Snow. The young man had been intended for the Night's Watch, but Tyrion had developed a fondness for the boy during their visit North, and so, he'd come along with the Stark's. They are close together, the dance bringing them so, but the smile that lights up the redhead's face is one that Cersei swears she's worn herself, but when she looks upon Jaime. And the usually stoic Snow looks just as delighted to spin his sister out and back in, hands at her waist to lift her high into the air as the music swells. Cersei chuckles, wondering how's she's not noticed it ever before. The wheels in her brain are suddenly spinning, whirling several thoughts throughout that bring yet another smile to her face.

As if her thoughts have conjured him, she feels Jaime's presence at her elbow; he bows over his arm, ever the courtier, but she knows it's more for show than anything else. "What has you so cheery?" He asks, his green eyes scanning the dance floor, where sure enough his gaze falls upon the Stark siblings as they finish their dance among all the others, though it quite seems they've forgotten they aren't alone. "They make a handsome pair, do they not?" Turning back to face his lover, he sees he's right, for she's staring down at them with a look he's seen before. "What are you thinking?"

"That proud Ned Stark's children are falling in love right before our very eyes." They both knew what the world would say about two siblings, albeit half, falling in love. Was it not why they themselves took every precaution? Cersei shudders to think what would happen if the truth was ever discovered... The rumors were bad enough. But this... Two Stark children in love? It would cease the rumors about her and Jaime, that she was certain of. She watches as Sansa dips a quick curtsy to Jon before he offers her his arm, which she readily takes, and they disappear into the crowd.

"See that Lady Stark is brought to me tomorrow morning, won't you?" She says to the nearest lady, who nods, curtsying before she scurries away to do as she's been bid. Cersei turns back to face the dance floor, but it's suddenly become far less interesting.

And so she must wait until morning.

[ x x x ]

It's late, yet she cannot bring herself to leave his arms.

Jon holds fast to her, kissing the top of her head, her silk gown soft beneath his touch as his hands span the length of her spine. "I should go..." She whispers for the tenth time, though his grip does not relent, nor does she make any attempt to pull away. He smells of spice and smoke, comforting and strong; she buries her face deeper into his chest, wishing she could sink into him. "Jon..."

His name is soft on her lips.

Their gazes meet and he's lost, as he always is, in the depth of her blue eyes. "I know," is all he can say, knowing as well as she that it was best for her to go. They both knew where this moment would lead- after all, how many times had they been here before? But more than anything, they both knew what would happen if they were discovered in such an embrace. And yet... There's a part of him that doesn't care. There's a part of him that wishes with all of his might that they could be together in the way that they wanted. No more secret midnight rendezvous that only left them both feeling more strained than being without the other. "I'll walk you to your rooms..." He begins, but she shakes her head.

"Shae is waiting," she says softly, finally freeing herself from his grip. She feels cold without his touch and that is almost enough to send her back into his arms. "I will see you in the morning," she goes on, reaching out her hand to tenderly touch his. Jon nods, catching her hand so he might bring it to his lips to kiss. The brush of his lips to her knuckles steals the breath from her lungs and time is suspended as they stand there, the only sound in the room that of the fire burning in the hearth. "Until the morning..."

"Until the morning," he parrots back as he let's go of her hand. "Good night, Sansa."

The way he says her name sends shivers down her spine. "Good night, Jon." She says instead of every other thing she wants to say.

[ x x x ]

In the morning, a lady arrives at her door to inform her she's been summoned to see the queen.

Though no longer truly queen, Cersei Lannister runs the Seven Kingdoms through her youngest son, the now King Tommen. Just a boy, he's been married to Margaery Tyrell, who only several weeks before had instead been married to Joffrey. Poison had taken care of him, but Margaery and her family, ever the schemers, ensured that she would take her place as queen. Sansa was certain that it would not be long before a new power struggle would emerge. Soon, it would be Margaery and the Tyrell's fighting for control of poor, young Tommen.

Once she's dressed, Sansa, with Shae beside her, makes her way down to Cersei's office.

When she's been announced, she steps into the room, one which she has spent much time in over her years in King's Landing. Once she had been thrilled to be invited into this room, to spend private time with Queen Cersei... But things have changed. Though she dips her the curtsy due to her rank, Sansa does not return the smile offered to her by the golden haired woman behind her oak desk. "Lady Stark, tell me, how did you enjoy the ball last night?" Cersei asks, gesturing for Sansa to take the empty chair across from her. The young woman frowns, but does as she's bid, clearly surprised by the question. Cersei notices she wears a new gown of pale blue damask, made from a bolt of fabric she was given by Jon Snow a few short weeks ago; though it is fashioned in the Southern style, Cersei sees that the trailing sleeves are stitched with falling leaves, weirwood leaves, like those that grow in the North. Even her hair, which once she wore in styles that mirrored her own, is fastened into braids in a way that reminds Cersei of Catelyn Stark. It is Sansa's way of breaking with the Lannister's entirely; she is no longer theirs to control.

"It was wonderful, your grace," Sansa answers honestly, shifting slightly in the chair, brushing a lock of red hair across a shoulder before she accepts the goblet of wine being offered to her. "Very grand." She goes on, though she's no longer thinking of the ball, but of the last dance she and Jon had shared together.

"Your brother is quite the elegant dancer, I must say I'm surprised." Cersei's voice breaks into her thoughts and Sansa blinks in surprise. This certainly was not the topic of conversation she expected to have upon being summoned to this room. "The two of you make quite the couple." At this, Sansa chokes on the sip of wine she's just taken, her stare wild and frantic as it rises up to meet the queen. Inside, Cersei is laughing- she's been right there was Sansa was before, so many years ago. Back when her feelings for Jaime had first begun to grow into what they were now. She could recall their dance lessons, when a compliment on how well they fit together would leave her blushing and stammering, just as Sansa Stark was now. "You needn't hide it from me, Lady Stark," she goes on, taking advantage of the young woman's silence. "I see how you look at him... And how he looks at you."

Sansa's heart was beating fast within her chest, so fast she can barely catch her breath. Was she and Jon truly so obvious? They had painstakingly tried to keep what was brimming between them beneath the surface... But had last night been their very downfall? "I-I do not know what you mean, your grace," she says, adopting a cheery but confused tone, cursing herself for being a terrible liar. From the way Cersei is smiling, Sansa knows she does not believe her, not even for a moment.

"You know, Lady Stark, if there is one thing in my life I regret... It is not ever being with the one I truly loved." Cersei speaks from total honesty, saying aloud the words she's never spoken before to anyone. Not even to Jaime. She knows what it will take to sway proud Ned's child into something such as diving head first into an incestual relationship. But she knows the way to sway the young woman, for it was the same way she swayed herself all those years ago. "Someday you will be married to a man who you likely do not love," they are both reminded of a similar conversation, one they had shared before her marriage to Joffrey was to take place. "You should experience true love, even just once in your life." These words resonate with her and Cersei knows it. Her blue eyes widen and she opens her mouth as if she means to speak, but cannot find the words. "We cannot help who we love," Cersei says, though now she wonders if she's still speaking to Sansa, but rather to herself. "But if any love was so truly wrong, why would the Gods allow us to feel it in the first place?"

Sansa's heart beat has not ceased in it's pace, but a slow realization is dawning upon her as she listens to Cersei's words. There is meaning behind them and she knows, those words are not meant only for her. She recalls the rumors spread just before her father was beheaded, rumors about the truth of Joffrey and his siblings parentage. The truth about Cersei and her brother, Jaime. There is a part of her that worries this is just a trap, a set up to catch her and Jon in the act, something that would earn them the scorn and disgust of all of King's Landing and likely the North.

And yet...

You should experience true love, even just once in your life... Those are the words she's replaying in her brain, over and over again, knowing that Cersei was right. It would not be long before a marriage was made for her, one that would likely be loveless and political, one that would do nothing for her but everything for the Lannister's. Without her father or mother or even Robb to protect her from such a fate, she would be doomed to marry a man of Cersei's choosing.

When she's dismissed a few minutes later, Sansa wastes no time.

Shae, who has waited for her outside Cersei's room for her, rises up from where she sits on the windowsill. "Find Jon for me, won't you?" She asks in an undertone, to which her lady stares back at her for a long moment before she nods. If there was anyone she could trust with what she was about to do, it would be Shae.

Once she's back within her own chamber, she brings herself to stand before the looking glass, staring at her own reflection. She knows that doing what she's about to do will change everything, but she knows she cannot go on in life without knowing what it will feel like to be held by a man that truly loves her. If she can only taste his love this one time, then she will go willingly into any marriage presented to her, for Jon's love she will carry with her for the rest of her life.

A knock on the door comes.

By the time she's turned around, the door has opened and it's Jon standing there. He's staring at her, taking her in as he always does, those Stark colored eyes enough to bring her to her knees. "Sansa," he greets, feeling just as she does, the shift in what lays between them. She crosses the room as he does and so they meet at the center, a minimal distance between them. The blue damask gown suits her in a way he cannot describe and he's, as always, struck by her beauty. Somewhere behind them, Shae quietly ducks into the antechamber, out of sight, out of mind- but there all the same.

There's so many things she wants to say, so many things she needs for him to hear. But the words do not come, no matter how hard she wills them to. And so, instead, she does the only other thing that makes any sense; she kisses him. She kisses him with as much passion as she can muster and he falls into it, his arms winding around her only so he might pull her closer. When he breaks free moments later, it's to stare into her eyes, to ask her one single thing. "Are you certain?" She nods.

That's all he needs.

This time, he's the one to kiss her, leaning in to capture her mouth with his. One hand remains perched at the small of her back, though the other one slides into her hair, uncaring of the pins he knocks loose. She's kissing him back, meeting his tongue with her own, the sensations rushing through her body unlike anything she's ever felt before.

It does not take long before they stand at the side of her bed, the canopy hangings pushed aside so Jon might sit upon the edge. He beckons her closer and she comes to stand between his knees, allowing him to turn her around so her back instead faces him. Then, she feels his hands as they begin to loosen the laces of her blue gown until it begins to slip over her shoulders. That is when she turns back around to face him and she allows the gown to fall to the floor at her feet, all so she might stand there in nothing but her chemise.

And then, Jon draws her down into the bed, and into his arms.

[ddagent]

ok jb having only daughters for canon timeline

Thank you so much for the prompt! This will have officially covered all three of the Jaime-has-all-daughters ideas – but I am open to follow-ups! 

Lady Brienne Lannister cared little for King’s Landing. 

It was overbearing, loud, and the smell of the Blackwater permeated the air. The King’s Court was rude; the King himself a monster. Brienne supposed she should show some affection for her nephew – if he hadn’t gone to war against half the Kingdom. Brienne had longed to fight: for Renly, for Catelyn, for something. But her husband had given a rare order for her to remain on Tarth. I don’t like this any more than you do, but when it comes to this war, our family comes first. 

He did not mean House Lannister. 

But now they had left Tarth after all; a raven sent bearing the words of Tywin Lannister summoning his son and heir to King’s Landing. Brienne and their girls had joined him; none of them sure what they would find in the capital. It had been three days since their arrival, and so far, her good-sister had been cruel, the Court had been unkind, and the King had displayed more madness at his age than even the Mad King had shown. 

“Gods only know what he’ll be like when he’s older,” Jaime spat as they traversed the corridors of King’s Landing. Brienne clung tighter to his arm. “If I was his Kingsguard—”

“—you’re not, Jaime. And if your sister is half as smart as she thinks she is, she’ll have stacked the Kingsguard with men loyal to his ideals. Brutes and monsters; every one.” 

That gave her husband little comfort. She could see the worry etched into his features; the fear clouding his gaze. More than once he looked back at their girls: Catelyn almost as tall as Jaime; Elinor with her nose in a book; Joanna smiling at everyone who walked past. Jaime feared for them, as did Brienne. The capital chewed and spat out little girls. The fates of Sansa and Arya Stark plagued her constantly. 

“Can’t we have dinner in our rooms?” Elinor piped up as they approached their destination. “I want to finish this chapter.”

“You’ll have to do it later, Elinor.” Jaime halted; allowing Brienne’s arm to fall from his own to take his daughter’s instead. “And don’t roll your eyes in front of your grandfather. He hates that.” 

“He hates us,” Catelyn said, eyeing the Kingsguard on the door warily. “They all do.” 

Brienne lifted her chin as they approached Ser Meryn on the door; only Lady Joanna shorter than he. He sneered as they approached. Brienne’s gaze turned to her husband as she watched him take in Ser Meryn’s golden armour and soiled cloak. He shook his head but did not say a word. Nor did any of their girls. Brienne, however, lingered. The last time they had visited King’s Landing, Brienne had taken part in King Robert’s nameday tourney. She had defeated Ser Meryn easily in the melee. 

“Ser Meryn.” Judging from his scowl, he had not forgotten.

Inside was an assembly of Houses Lannister, Baratheon, Tyrell, and Tarth. At the head of the table was a seat for King Joffrey; by his side, a place for his mother and grandfather. Joining them for dinner was his intended, Margaery Tyrell, and her brother, Ser Loras. Tyrion was already into his cups and discussing Elinor’s new book with her. Joanna was talking to her cousin, Prince Tommen, and Jaime was staring defeatedly at the head of the table. 

Suddenly, the doors at the opposite end opened and in swan the King, followed by his mother and grandfather. “Apologies, everyone; the Small Council meeting ran late. Lady Margaery, welcome. Uncles, Aunt, dearest cousins: thank you so much for joining me for dinner.” 

“Like we had a choice,” Catelyn muttered as the assembled party sat down. Brienne threw her daughter a warning glare; thankfully, they were too far away from the head of the table for Joffrey to hear. 

Cersei took charge of the conversation while Joffrey made eyes at his bride. “Brother, good-sister, it is wonderful to have you back in the capital. It’s been far too long. I had hoped you would return with another babe. I know how dearly my brother has longed for a son.” 

Jaime adopted a curious look upon his face before turning to Brienne and scratching his head. “Have I? I don’t remember that.” 

Brienne nudged his leg with her foot. “We cannot all be as blessed as you, Your Grace.”

“Of course. You know,” Cersei began as she took her goblet before the servant had even finished pouring, “It is times like these that I am reminded of Prince Rhaegar. Setting aside your wife to have more children – he set a dangerous precedent.” 

“Kidnapping, rape, false imprisonment. A very dangerous precedent indeed, dear Aunt.” Cersei’s eyes swivelled towards her niece; Catelyn’s blue eyes shining in the candlelight. “Thank the Gods he was punished for his crimes.” 

Elinor, as she often did, joined in her sister’s game. “By your father, of course, Your Grace. The great King Robert. You must be so proud to have him as your father.” 

Joffrey paused, merely nodding; nothing but a little boy playing King while his cousins were ready to tear his mother apart. “I am.”

“You, of all people, would join your father in standing against men who would cast aside their wives—”

“—a wife who had, in fact, bore a son—” 

“—and maintain the laws kept sacred by you and the Seven.” Elinor sagged against her chair. That the Citadel would never allow her entry was a crime in and of itself. “You are a great king, Your Grace.” 

Joffrey, buoyed by his cousins’ compliments, puffed out his meagre chest and nodded. “I am. As was my father. There will be no more talk of setting aside wives. We are better than the Targaryens. Much better.” 

After that, conversation fell away. They were quickly served their first course; Tyrell pears and apples roasted in honey. Ser Loras and Catelyn discussed the prospect of a tournament to celebrate his sister’s marriage; Elinor wanted to hear, in detail, of her Uncle’s trip to the Wall. Joanna and Jaime plotted a visit into town so she could see the stalls offering fabric for a new dress. Brienne sliced through her pear and ate thoughtfully, catching her good-father’s eye on more than one occasion. 

As the dishes were cleared away, and the Queen Regent on her third cup of wine, the topic of Jaime’s heirs was once again raised. “I find it such a shame that, if something were to happen to you, dearest Brother, that Casterly Rock would go to one of Uncle Kevan’s sons.” 

“Surely,” Lady Margaery began, “Casterly Rock could fall to Ser Jaime’s grandson.” 

“My nieces are not yet wed. My brother has no children to speak of. Lancel will inherit the Rock.” 

“Nonsense.” 

It was the first time Lord Tywin had spoken all evening. His tone made the King flinch; the simple act drawing a smile from all three of Brienne’s daughters. She, herself, stiffened under Tywin’s stare. Fear clenched at her stomach. Despite Joffrey’s forced assertions otherwise, her girls – Brienne herself – could be set aside. It would not be the first time Lord Tywin had tried to tempt Jaime with a younger, prettier, shorter maiden. 

“The King has recently signed into order an act that the eldest child, regardless of gender, will inherit. This will, of course, only apply to children who were born in the reign of King Robert and beyond.” Thus excluding Cersei and Tommen from the Rock. “Catelyn will inherit the Rock as Jaime’s firstborn.” 

Cersei slammed down her goblet. Joffrey looked confused. Or constipated. It was hard to tell. “Grandfather, I don’t remember signing that.” 

“Of course you do.” 

And that was it. Catelyn – breeches wearing, sword-wielding, named after Lady Stark Catelyn – would inherit Casterly Rock. When dinner was concluded and their family had retreated to their chambers, Brienne slept easier for the first time since the war had begun.

[butterflies-dragons]

Sansa Stark and The Exile Prince

You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seeing you out (...) I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now? You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seeing you out

—Exile ~ Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver (*)

***

At the end of Game of Thrones, the TV Show, Jon Snow is a prince, but he is exiled from his homeland. Sansa fought for Jon's release after Daenerys’ murder, but he was sent to the Night's Watch. 

Then at their farewell, Sansa regrets she was unable to gain Jon’s release, but he comforts her by saying the North will be in good hands under her guidance. 

That’s why the new Taylor Swift’s Folklore song: Exile, featuring Bon Iver, is making all our wounded jonsa hearts bleed again... 

[Let’s cry together while watching this beautiful Exile Jonsa fanvideo...]

Last year, Sansa’s fight for Jon to be released reminded me very much of her pleadings for Ned’s freedom:

The king! Sansa blinked back her tears. Joffrey was the king now, she thought. Her gallant prince would never hurt her father, no matter what he might have done. If she went to him and pleaded for mercy, she was certain he’d listen. He had to listen, he loved her, even the queen said so. Joff would need to punish Father, the lords would expect it, but perhaps he could send him back to Winterfell, or exile him to one of the Free Cities across the narrow sea. It would only have to be for a few years. By then she and Joffrey would be married. Once she was queen, she could persuade Joff to bring Father back and grant him a pardon.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

GRRM has said that the major players’ endings will be similar in the Books, and yes, he has also called Sansa a major player, so Sansa Stark being Queen of an independent North opens the possibility that she could grant Jon a pardon, so he could go back to Winterfell.

Asoiaf Books are full of exiled characters, especially Targaryen ones, like Maegor, Daemon, Viserys, Daenerys, all of them obsessed to claim the Iron Throne for themselves, and that’s the big difference with Jon Snow and the reason to be hopeful for some kind of pardon, reconciliation and returning home to, at last, enjoy some peaceful time at home, a true Dream of Spring.   

But Sansa Stark has already crossed paths with an Exile Prince. Let’s see: 

Back in AGOT Sansa introduced us to a very particular courtier of the Red Keep: Jalabhar Xho.  

Jalabhar Xho is the exiled Prince of the Red Flower Vale, likely exiled for losing a highly ritualized war as per the tradition of the Summer Isles. Following his exile, Jalabhar came to King's Landing in the Seven Kingdoms to request gold and swords from King Robert I Baratheon to help him regain the Red Flower Vale. Robert always entertained the notion of conquering the Summer Isles, but continuously told Jalabhar and put it off until the next year. Although Robert always put off Jalabhar's request for help, he never firmly declined him, telling him "Next year" instead of "No".

Jalabar Xho has a strong bird imagery that connects him with Sansa, since she is mockingly called a bird of the Summer Isles: 

Flowers of a thousand different sorts bloom in profusion on the Summer Isles, filling the air with their perfume. The trees are heavy with exotic fruits, and a myriad of brightly colored birds flitter through the skies. From their plumage the Summer Islanders make their fabulous feathered cloaks. 

—The World of Ice & Fire

Sandor Clegane stopped suddenly in the middle of a dark and empty field. She had no choice but to stop beside him. "Some septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

The denizens of Joffrey's court had striven to outdo each other today. Jalabhar Xho was all in feathers, a plumage so fantastic and extravagant that he seemed like to take flight. 

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VIII

Sansa is the POV where this Prince of the Summer Isles is most mentioned. Out of the 22 mentions of Jalabar Xho in the Books, 8 of those mentions are in Sansa’s chapters, followed by the 7 mentions of the exile prince in Cercei’s chapters. But what is really curious and very interesting is the fact that most of those mentions are in a romantic context linked with love and weddings:  

Jeyne Poole confessed herself frightened by the look of Jalabhar Xho, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who wore a cape of green and scarlet feathers over skin as dark as night, but when she saw young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hair like red gold and his black shield slashed by lightning, she pronounced herself willing to marry him on the instant.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

He was one of the few spectators at Joffrey’s Name Day Tourney:  

Most of the spectators were guardsmen in the gold cloaks of the City Watch or the crimson of House Lannister; of lords and ladies there were but a paltry few, the handful that remained at court. Grey-faced Lord Gyles Rosby was coughing into a square of pink silk. Lady Tanda was bracketed by her daughters, placid dull Lollys and acid-tongued Falyse. Ebon-skinned Jalabhar Xho was an exile who had no other refuge, Lady Ermesande a babe seated on her wet nurse's lap. The talk was she would soon be wed to one of the queen's cousins, so the Lannisters might claim her lands.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

Jalabar Xho was present at Sansa’s wedding with Tyrion Lanniters, he said something to her in the Summer Tongue while they danced together:

Merry Crane took the floor with the exile prince Jalabhar Xho, gorgeous in his feathered finery. 

(...)

The music spun them apart before Sansa could think of a reply. It was Mace Tyrell opposite her, red-faced and sweaty, and then Lord Merryweather, and then Prince Tommen. "I want to be married too," said the plump little princeling, who was all of nine. "I'm taller than my uncle!"

"I know you are," said Sansa, before the partners changed again. Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. 

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III 

[Here you can find a fanart of Sansa and Jalabar Xho dancing together]

Jalabar Xho and Sansa met again during The Purple Wedding and they talked about the Wedding Customs of the Summer Isles:

Tyrion led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies.

She is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he'd left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel's hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he'd had the sense to love her. He wondered if his nephew was capable of loving anyone.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

The last we know about this particular character is that he is falsely accused by the Blue Bard to be one of Queen Margaery’s lovers and Cersei would be willing to send him to the Night’s Watch if he confesses:  

Behind Margaery came a long tail of courtiers, guards, and servants, many of them laden with baskets of fresh flowers. Each of her cousins had an admirer in thrall; the gangly squire Alyn Ambrose rode with Elinor, to whom he was betrothed, Ser Tallad with shy Alla, one-armed Mark Mullendore with Megga, plump and laughing. The Redwyne twins were escorting two of Margaery's other ladies, Meredyth Crane and Janna Fossoway. The women all wore flowers in their hair. Jalabhar Xho had attached himself to the party too, as had Ser Lambert Turnberry with his eye patch, and the handsome singer known as the Blue Bard.

—A Feast for Crows - Cersei VI

"I prefer this song to the other." Leave the great lords out of it, that was for the best. The others, though . . . Ser Tallad had been a hedge knight, Jalabhar Xho was an exile and a beggar, Clifton was the only one of the little queen's guardsman. And Osney is the plum that makes the pudding. "I know you feel better for having told the truth. You will want to remember that when Margaery comes to trial. If you were to start lying again . . .

(...)

Alone, the Blue Bard's confession would never suffice. Singers lied for their living, after all. Alla Tyrell would be of great help, if Taena could deliver her. "Ser Osney shall confess as well. The others must be made to understand that only through confession can they earn the king's forgiveness, and the Wall." Jalabhar Xho would find the truth attractive. About the rest she was less certain, but Qyburn was persuasive . . .

—A Feast for Crows - Cersei IX

Does the Exile Prince Jalabhar Xho reminds you of someone? Maybe of another Prince, that will probably be exiled from his homeland after some succession dispute, that is surrounded by bird imagery because he wears a black cloak, that is called ‘crow’ and knows an actual crow that repeats everything it hears, that is linked with Sansa Stark, that once imagined himself dancing with a creature that talked to him in a foreign tongue, and that once organized a foreign custom wedding of a Lady with whom he once danced? Do I need to say it? 

Damn it, George! What are you doing?

(*) This post was written while listening Exile over and over and over again...     

[virareve]

I would love to hear about the JB roadtrip fic please!!

Hi brynn! <3

This is actually one of the top WIPs I want to focus on when I finish the current one I’m working on. I adore this one to pieces and have spent way too long contemplating modern highway design and urban planning when working on it. (insert embarrassed face)

Here’s a little bit of what I’ve written. It’s very unedited but I hope you enjoy.

*hides*

——

“Brienne,” he tried, and his voice stumbling into a rush “Margaery’s getting married to Tyrion at the end of the week in Highgarden.”

She shook her head. “I’m busy, but tell Tyrion and Margaery I said that I wish them all the best, hopefully marriage works out for at least one of us.”

Jaime winced. “Brienne-”

“No, Jaime,” she stopped him curtly, “you’re asking me to travel back  to Highgarden with you during Long Night time knowing full well what happened last time. Or did you forget that-”

“Yes, yes. I get it,” he interjected, jaw tightening. Shame prickled all over him.

Brienne clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. After an exhale she opened them again, “As I told you, you’ve wasted your time coming here, Jaime, there’s no way I could go back there right now.”

“That’s what I told her you’d say.”

Brienne bit her lip.

“You’ve done well,” he complimented, gesturing around the office.

“It’s nice, I could have never imagined being here ten years ago,” she almost looked like she was smiling for the first time this conversation. “And you, still training the Kingsguard officers?”

“I retired.”

Brienne looked surprised. “You did? I assume there’s a story there.”

“There is-” Jaime paused, something behind her catching his eye. “Hold on. Is that...” He got up from the seat and crossed behind her desk. He found himself greeted by a beloved hue of a cherry-hued valyrian steel. The prized antique sword of House Lannister, gifted to him by his father when he turned twenty-one, lay proudly in a sleek glass display case. “Why do you have Widow’s Wail? I thought I threw that away.”

Brienne turned to look at him, one eyebrow momentarily raised in disbelief. “Moving past the fact that you actually dumped a priceless artifact in the trash can to begin with, it is part of a pair. It would be wrong to part them.” She nodded to the shelf above it where Oathkeeper gleamed from inside its own pristine casing. “They are yours, you can have them back,” she offered, her eyes flickered to Oathkeeper as she said it.

He shook his head, “Maybe Widow’s Wail, but Oathkeeper is yours, it’s always been yours.”

“Then why throw Widow’s Wail away to begin with?” she asked, “You loved that sword.”

“I did,” Jaime agreed. “I do,” he corrected. “I’m not a monster. I was in a bad state when I threw it away. I came back to get it two days later, but it was gone. I thought someone had stolen it from the trash, maybe even tried to recycle it. I hadn’t imagined it would be you.”

Brienne hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Are you really not going to Highgarden?” he asked then. “It would mean the world to Margaery.”

“My stance hasn’t changed.” She leaned back into her plush office chair, crossing her arms. 

Jaime pursed his lips. “Okay then...I’ll let Margaery know.” He didn’t move. 

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

“I thought you deserved a chance to refuse before I kidnap you,” he drawled, “be glad this wasn’t preemptive. I get that your busy, but it’s Long Night, and-”

“It is, and traveling is incredibly expensive right now. ?” His eyes drift over the array of certificates and photos she’s obtained in the time they haven’t been together. A reminder that she’d built a whole life outside of him. “And you know my legs get horribly cramped in the seats.” 

“No planes, got it,” he said, mentally patting himself on the back for not giving in to instinct and checking her out when she mentioned her legs. He pulled his car keys from his pocket and waved them in front of her. “I was planning to drive.”

“Drive? With you?”

“It’s a thirty-seven hour trip,” he shrugged, “If we each manage six hours a day, we’ll  arrive there in plenty of time.”

She was fixing him with one of her unamused glares. 

“In time for what?”

“The wedding,” he reminded her. “The one your best friend would turn into an absolute demon if you weren’t there for.”

Brienne sighed, head falling against the back of her chair. 

“She’s going to fly out here if I don’t come with you, isn’t she.”

“Who’s to say,” he answered affably, “But I could have sworn she said something about using the family jet.” 

“Fine,” Brienne grumbled, “But if you think I’m about to put up with any of your crap…”

Jaime held his hands up in surrender. 

“I promise to be on my best behavior. Scouts honor.”

“All I ask for is basic civility,” she said, trying to smother her snort.

“Of course, but don’t expect silence.”

“I would expect nothing less from you.” She reached out, as if to touch his arm, but aborted her movement, leaving her hand a moment to graceless hang mid air. 

“Right,” he said leaning towards her desk and plucking a business card from the edge. He grabbed a pen, jotting down his information. “Here’s my cell, text me your address. I’ll pick you up ten to six tomorrow morning. Don’t try to run. Otherwise,” he grimaced, thinking of his sister-in-law-to-be “you’ll just make this painful for all of us.”

Brienne gave him a similarly pained look.

“I’ll be ready.”

“Okay then,” he said, giving her a nod. As he strode away, he felt the urge to look back one more time. It had been so long since he had last seen her. An instinctual fear was kicking in that he would forget everything about her. He turned his head towards her as he slipped out the door and found her watching him. He froze.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed and kept moving. When he finally made it out the building, past the bone chilling winter air of Queenscrown, into the safety of his car, he slumped.

“Fuck.”

[whataplottwistyouwere]

my unpopular ASOIAF + GoT opinions

- Robb>>>>Jon

- Jon is overrated and not that good

- Margaery <<<<<<< (I really hate her)

-Margaery X Sansa = overrated and fake af

- Sanrion and SanSan are disgusting

-GoT finale wasn’t that bad

- Mad Dany makes sense

- Viserys is terrible and unforgivable but his life is really sad

- Jaime is overrated

- Jaime and Cersei are soulmates and Brienne is too good for him

- If Jaime kills or stops loving Cersei, it would be fake and unreal. Braime is too good to happen.

- Sansa as QITN isnt so Bad

- I don’t like Jeyne Poole

- Changing Jeyne Westerling to Talisa was so wrong, people misunderstood Robb’s character because of it

- Cersei might be a badass queen everyone stans, but In the books: she’s so evil. She shouldn’t be liked. Lena is amazing and she portrayed Cersei amazing, but cersei is pure evil.

-Catelyn Stark is overhated and underrated

-Nedlyn is the best and the only untoxic relationship in the series

-Lyanna and Rheagar SHOULDNT be loved. And using “Arya is just like Lyanna” or “Dany is just like Rheagar” isn’t a compliment

- Lyanna knew her actions would’ve caused a war, or something worse. She knew Rheagar was married. She knew running away would put so many people in a hard situation. Yes love is sweet and blinding but she had responsibilities.

- Same for Rheagar, he was married and he had children. He knew Lyanna was someone else’s. He knew giving that rose to her would humiliate her wife. He’s even worse than Lyanna

- Ned didn’t love Arya better. Ned loved his children equally. Ned didn’t hate Sansa.

- Catelyn didn’t compare her love to her children. she loved them equally. Everyone thinks that she loves Bran and Robb better, but in reality. Her plot was with Bran and Robb. We didn’t see her with any other children, because of her plot. THAT DOESNT MEAN SHE HATES ARYA AND SANSA.

- Tyrion isn’t good in the books. The things he did was disgusting and he’s not a good person

- Cersei and Jaime should die together

- ASOIAF is overrated

YES THESE ARE MY OPINIONS. PLS DONT COMMENT HATE, CUZ I WONT REPLY. THESE ARE MY OPINIONS. MY MY MY

if anyone is interested to do this, you can reblog!!

[apiratecalledav]

Is there other stuff that makes you think hbo messed with gendrya?

Oh, man, I’m probably gonna be thought of as the Murray Bauman of the fandom…. But yeah, there’s actually quite a bit that makes me think that it’s possible. When season 8 first aired, I thought that maybe executive meddling shot them down for some reason, most logically to protect spinoff potential.  They might have let the show “test the waters” but ultimately wanted them left ambiguous.

I thought it was… interesting… that Gendry and Arya had by far the gentlest, most amicable breakup in the entire series— and that it was over Gendry’s lordship that he straight up said wasn’t worth anything without Arya—when HBO UK made a cryptic tweet that made me wonder if someone high up was leery of the pairing/fan reaction.  If they wanted the option for an Arya Stark spinoff someday, I could see why they wouldn’t want her to end in a relationship they thought might be poorly received.  

I also thought that maybe since Gendrya went so far out of the show’s usual M.O. (to the point that it was one of the very few things about season 8 that I was wildly off about) that their thought process might have plausibly been something like, “Gendrya can’t be endgame? Well, fuck it. We’ll go all out and have them do pretty much everything else: Make out, spend the night together, save the world, say, ‘I love you,’ and get down on one knee to propose.”

I also thought that I was probably just a tinfoil-hat-wearing weirdo saying, “My OTP wasn’t definitively endgame! It must be a conspiracy.”

But I rewatched the whole season a little while ago and I noticed some things that I think are… interesting. Although, you should keep in mind that it was during two VERY long and VERY boring days at work where I had nothing to do.

I could just be shipper trash, seeing what I wanna see. Maybe not. I’m just saying that I’d believe it if something was up. From the way they portrayed Arya and Gendry, in general and especially in comparison to Jon/D-ny (I’ve anti tagged but if you don’t have blacklisting enabled, this is your fair warning), I could believe that the writers like the ship. And while Arya is certainly not the poster child for perfect mental health, there isn’t anything to suggest she would be toxic in a long term relationship. She isn’t selfish or cruel. I also don’t think that she hates herself the way that Sandor and Jaime did and that she believes she deserves to be “punished” or alone. She didn’t say anything to Gendry about not wanting to be a wife, just not a lady. 

They’re consistently portrayed as a healthier/more favorable foil to Jon and D-ny:

In 8x01, D-ny swoops down on Winterfell and is cavalier as fuck about resources.  She has no comment about food except that dragons eat “whatever they want.” The next scene, we see Gendry running to catch a chunk of dragonglass that was about to tumble out of the wagon. He tells everyone to be careful because they need every last bit of it. He then goes on to climb up the wagon, much like Arya did in the pilot episode. I think it’s even in the same spot. If not, it’s very similar.

Also 8x01, D-ny tells Jon, “keep your Queen warm” and while they are kissing, Jon keeps opening his eyes and freaking out because scary dragons are eyeballing him. And D-ny is pretty much like, “Don’t worry about it, it’s cool.” Even though she’s already made a few jokes about how if they decide to roast Jon then he’s shit outta luck and she threatened Sansa. Then the very next scene is Gendry and Sandor just before Arya finds them. Arya teases Gendry as well but she also defends him from Sandor, compliments him, jokes he should “keep close to that forge” if he’s cold and tells him not to call her Lady Stark. They laugh and banter and all awkwardness fades away and they’re both grinning like dorks. Arya actively wants Gendry to see them as equals; D-ny subconsciously wants Jon in his place.

Even as the dead are practically in their backyard, D-ny keeps obsessing about the throne. Meanwhile, Arya’s station doesn’t bother Gendry anymore because he knows it doesn’t matter. He also signed up to help Jon immediately without asking for anything in return.

Arya and Gendry each seek the other out in 8x02 but Jon spends a lot of it trying to avoid D-ny until the last moment

8x02 Arya and D-ny find out Gendry’s and Jon’s parentages. It makes no difference to Arya, she loved Gendry when he was a barmaid’s bastard and she loves him when he’s a king’s son. Jon’s  bio father shatters D-ny’s whole world.

Most of Jon’s family (this includes Sam) distrust and fear D-ny. Jon and Sandor like Gendry and Sansa and Bran have no complaints at least.

Their ~love scenes~ have a few shots that mirror each other, too.  But we see the buildup for Arya and Gendry, their conversation, their first kiss, undressing each other. We see Jon and D-ny and in the middle of things, during a montage explaining how they’re closely related and narrated by Jon’s little brother. Not exactly sexy. Then it cuts to Tyrion lurking nearby looking troubled and finally ends with an ominous shot of the Targ flagship in the dark and gloom. Meanwhile, Arya and Gendry are alone, not related, and are the sole focus of the scene. There’s not even music.

In 8x04, at the funeral, Gendry and Arya are initially a good distance apart. Then after they light the pyres, you get a shot of Arya with (an admittedly very blurry) Gendry visible over her shoulder. Meanwhile, Jon and D-ny stand together while lighting the fire and then they part.  

Gendry’s “I love you” to Arya is enthusiastic and happy and D-ny’s to Jon is coming from a place of mourning at best and it’s straight up manipulative at worst.  The words “I love you” are rare in this show. I can only remember Jorah saying it a couple of times, Littlefinger to Cat and Sansa, Joffrey pledging to wed Margaery, and Robb to Talisa. The only times it’s not sad or creepy are Robb and Gendry.

These two scenes are the most glaringly obvious. But to summarize, Arya tries to set Gendry “free” when his life changes in a direction she doesn’t want for herself and D-ny tries to put Jon into a corner and make sure his life CAN’T change into one that she doesn’t want. 

So with that stuff in mind, I could buy that maybe they wanted Arya and Gendry to reunite in King’s Landing and try to save civilians together.  Or maybe have Jon ask Gendry to take Arya as far away as he can before Jon goes to that throne room to do what he has to do. Hell, look at Arya’s final scene as is: She’s on a ship and then you see her Stark sigil on the sail against the sunlight… If Gendry was with her, that’d sure look like a happier version of D-ny and Jon’s scene from the end of season 7…   While probably a bit too on the nose for GRRM’s books, I could see the show implying that Gendry and Arya are the second, more hopeful verse of the Song of Ice and Fire…

Other Season 8 Subtext-y things:

Marriage imagery; Arya under Gendry’s cloak. Bonus points for it being shown during these lines from Jenny’s song: “spun away all her sorrow and pain/and she never wanted to leave.”  “She spun away and said to him, ‘no featherbed for me.’”

Pretty much all of Gendry’s scenes in season 8 are with Arya or he’s with Sandor, talking about her. The small handful of times he’s not with either of them, he’s with her siblings and other people connected to House Stark like Tormund and Davos and even Sam and Edd.  After their “breakup” he virtually disappears. Pretty much the ENTIRE reason they brought him back was for Arya and to be tied strongly to House Stark.

Beric and Melissandre, who once wanted to sacrifice Gendry for “the greater good” and caused Arya to turn towards a darker path, sacrifice themselves to defeat the dead, not only saving Arya’s and Gendry’s lives but guiding Arya further into “light.” To the point where she literally ends the Long Night.

Gendry tells Arya that she’s beautiful and he loves her and gets down on one knee to ask her to marry him… Which is so wildly uncharacteristic for this show that I still can’t believe that it’s real. It’s by far the most traditional romantic moment in the entire series.  I suppose it could just be fan service, but 8x02 would have sufficed on that front. Not to mention that “fan service” in this show has never been something so wholesome.  

They could have done the proposal differently. They could have had Gendry say crap like, “Now we can settle down and live a boring, respectable life” or something else that would have been really unappealing to Arya. It actually would have been another connection to Robert/Lyanna, where Robert only loved his idea of Lyanna. But nope. They could have framed it as Gendry trying to do the honorable thing or “they’re gonna marry us off anyway, at least we like each other.” But nope.

Gendry could have been put off by Arya’s combat skills but he was turned on by it. She even used her “game of faces” voice on him and it didn’t send him running for the hills.

They also could have easily had Gendry be too “tame” for Arya but nope.  Her face at this part just kills me.

They made a thing out of Gendry being “forever loyal” to D-ny after she legitimized him but he had jack shit to say about her at the Great Council and was all too happy to vote for King Bran, even after Arya had turned him down.

A follow up to that other post in regards to a Gendry-ish looking guy grabbing Arya and asking if she’s seen his wife, Alanna: Magaery’s cousin with the same sounding name gets a GRRM-esque weird spelling: Allana with two Ls and one N. As opposed to the more traditional spelling that looks more like Lyanna….

One of the surviving lords at the Great Council is specifically from the Storm Lands. He’s probably who has had Storm’s End for the last few years and maybe he doesn’t deserve to get kicked out by a boy who doesn’t have any idea how to be a lord and doesn’t even want to be a lord without Arya.  He even has a name: Lord Une.  The Dornish prince doesn’t have a first name but this guy does?

Also, Une is a very unusual name. It’s not from the books and it doesn’t really sound Medieval Europe-y, either. Maybe there’s an inside joke or something? That’s definitely not a name you just pull from the air.  

Arya lights Beric’s funeral pyre but if Sandor didn’t have issues with fire, I think he probably would have done it as Beric’s last surviving friend. It kind of gives us the sense that Arya can do what Sandor can’t—which of course, she ultimately does when she decides to leave Cersei while Sandor, who has missed so much being hurt and angry, can only have peace/forgive himself is if he stops Gregor forever. 

In the very next scene after the funeral, we see Gendry and Sandor talk about Arya. Sandor basically says that normal, living people have emotions and hormones and it’s not a bad thing.  Sometime later, we see Sandor scare off a girl who makes a pass at him. The next scene is Gendry and Arya. Arya also ‘rejects’ her love interest but it’s in an infinitely more thoughtful way. We already know that it’s easier for Arya to be close to other people than it was for Sandor. Arya just has a little bit more to go until she’s completely ready for something serious.  

Episodes 1 and 2 establish a pattern of “Sandor then Gendry.” It’s how they arrive at Winterfell. It’s how they reunite with Arya. It’s how Arya visits them towards the end of 8x02. Sooo again, I could see at one point the intention was for them to reunite in King’s Landing. Possibly during that bit where it keeps cutting back and forth between Sandor and Arya; “hateful” Gregor grabs Sandor up to throw him around and “loving” Gendry lifts Arya to save her from getting trampled. Nora, the name of the kind stranger who does help Arya, is essentially the “female equivalent” of Gendry’s name.    

According to the leaked outline of season 7, Gendry was originally supposed to be rescued by Benjen beyond the wall. In season 8, he has scenes with Jon, Sansa, and Bran, and even Edmure and Robin. ALMOST LIKE THEY WANTED HIM TO MEET *ALL* OF ARYA’S FAMILY. I’m pretty sure only Tyrion has met more Starks and Tullys than Gendry.

The “Ice battle” was at Arya’s childhood home and the “Fire battle” was at Gendry’s. And yeah, I think it’s pretty damn weird that a capable, uninjured soldier who has knowledge of King’s Landing isn’t there.

They gave them a reference to The Princess Bride: “As you wish.” Comparing them to a beloved couple from a modern classic is a good sign. Comparing them to most likely a childhood favorite? Even better. Comparing them to a couple where their other famous line is “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a little while.” And Arya and Gendry are still alive.  Actually, it might be a coincidence but they do have a SHIT-TON in common with The Princess Bride. GRRM is a fan, too, so maybe it was discussed at some point. It’s certainly uncanny if it wasn’t at least partially intentional. But that’s a different post.  

Sandor knows about Gendry and Arya and he doesn’t rip Gendry’s head off. Gendry basically got a blessing from Arya’s last legal guardian.

Their outfits reflect each other’s houses, Gendry’s clothes having some very Stark direwolf-like scratch marks and Arya’s scabbard is yellow and black aka Baratheon colors.

I haven’t listened to it yet, but apparently in the leaked audio commentary for 8x06, they talked about how Joe wanted Arya to notice how hot Gendry looked.

Other stuff that makes me think that the writers like Gendrya:

They gave them a lot of time and focus. Even in season 8 where they had very limited time. And objectively speaking, that time probably should have been spent with Arya and her siblings.

They had Arya befriend Gendry earlier and easier than she does in the books.

In behind the episode of 8x02, Benioff talked about how you choose to spend your last night on earth says a lot about you. The very first example he gives is Arya wanting to be with Gendry.

They are always depicted positively:  They trust each other; they respect each other; they make each other laugh; they protect each other.  Even during their “breakups” in season 3 and 8; they are honest and accepting of each other’s decisions.  These two are young and inexperienced but they manage to be more mature and healthier than 95% of the other couples.  Their relationship also doesn’t doom them the way that Robb and Talisa’s did.

They changed stuff from the books to make it– not more romantic per se given Arya’s age– but certainly shipping fuel that fit more into romantic tropes: How they meet, how Gendry discovers that she’s a girl, how Arya blatantly checks him out when he’s shirtless. Their long one-on-one and emotional “goodbye” scene where Arya says, “I can be your family.”

They changed/added lines to foreshadow “My Featherbed,” aka where Gendry is legitimized but gives it up for Arya: “I have a son, you have a daughter. We’ll join our houses” but leaving out how Robert specified Joffrey and Sansa. Changing “you’ll marry a king” and “no, that’s Sansa” to “you’ll marry a high lord” and “no, that’s not me.”  Davos telling Gendry how he became a lord to help his son and it actually got Mathos killed in battle.

The main bullet points of season 8 were largely what I was expecting and I was at least in the ballpark about a lot of the details. Like did I predict King Bran? No, but I knew he belonged in the south because he named his direwolf Summer. I knew the king or queen would be a dark horse and I was fairly certain Tyrion would be Hand. The few things I didn’t anticipate still seemed to validate the main themes and messages I thought that GRRM was going for. Like King Bran. Now I can’t believe I didn’t see it. Who better to “end the game of thrones” than someone who doesn’t want to play and also can’t be plotted against?

Gendrya is the one major thing that tripped me up. Seriously. I would have bet my fucking car that if Gendry didn’t die, he’d walk away from a lordship and be with Arya on her ship, even if the nature of their relationship was ambiguous.  

So I could believe that they wanted or at least expected Gendrya to be endgame since season 1 and someone told them no. It could have been GRRM but I must admit that I have a difficult time believing that.

I guess I could see GRRM having the point of their relationship be that Arya is upfront and honest about what she wants and Gendry respects her decision and doesn’t turn into a bitter/mopey drunk. Or that Gendry dies and Arya doesn’t wallow in it forever… But there’s so much that makes me think that Gendry is meant to be the “sweet” part of Arya’s bittersweet ending, and at least be her True Companion.  Not to mention they’re still too young to really have a relationship in the books. Well, at least Arya is. And those particular parallels to Robert and Lyanna fall pretty flat in my opinion if they’re not romantically involved.   I mean, come ON. How the hell could it NOT end with the possibility of Lyanna’s niece/ Jon’s sister and Robert’s son/D-ny+Rags cousin???

Possible HBO Shenanigans:  

I thought it was kinda funny that HBO UK–not Game of Thrones but an official HBO account– made a tweet shortly before 8x02 aired implying that Arya is eighteen… when she’s more likely sixteen (lots of reasons, not to mention that Maisie has even said that Arya is sixteen.) And sixteen is the age of consent in the UK anyway.  As far as I know, that was the only public attempt by HBO to quell controversy in an already hugely controversial season. Like, after The Bells, I don’t think anyone at HBO tweeted about “Ideally, good rulers don’t commit 2.5 times the amount of war crimes as the Night King.” So I do have to wonder if there’s a reason that they’re particularly invested and protective about Arya’s reception…

There was a huge shitstorm when Tommen and Margaery got married and pretty much most of that stuff was off screen.  Sure, Arya’s a bit older and Maisie was in her 20s while Dean-Charles was still in his teens… but people do tend to get much more outraged when it’s a girl with an older guy than vice versa.

There was also a big shakeup when AT&T acquired HBO and they got a new CEO early in 2019, a couple of months before season 8 aired. The former CEO seemed to have been championing Bloodmoon, that prequel that got canceled recently. He might have been pulling more for a potential Arya show back when the season was still being written… the new people at AT&T also seemed extremely upset over what the budgets for GoT and Big Little Lies did for their bottom line.  

While HBO has stated emphatically that there are no current plans for an Arya spinoff, they were sure to tack on a “right now, a sequel […] doesn’t make sense for us.” I do believe that this is something they want to have in their back pocket.  There’s a lot of interest in the idea and if House of the Dragon does well, I won’t be shocked if five+ years down the line we get at least a movie or a limited series about Arya. It’s by far the easiest, since her character can be isolated from everyone else and there are tons of cool places to explore. Hell, if they were really desperate, they wouldn’t even need Maisie Williams to come back. They could just recast and say she’s wearing someone else’s face to hide from mercenaries or something.  

GRRM gave an interview talking about how certain characters who have “a high Q rating” (popular) get pushed into more screen time. Bronn is almost certainly one of those characters. He’s always been a self-serving asshole, but the things that made him feel more like an affable rascal—his funny lines, his genuine and open fondness for Podrick—are all but gone in season 8. Not to mention that there’s the implied possibility he’s dying from some “pox.” In the outline for season 7, he’s much closer to “Season 8 Bronn.” Like, he was the one who was originally going to ask Jaime about Widow’s Wail and call Joffrey a “See-You-Next-Tuesday.” When Olenna said it, it was pretty funny. But coming from Bronn, it was a real dick move. I could believe that their “treatment” of Bronn in season 8 was a bit of a middle finger to him. The same way I could perceive Gendrya’s portrayal as being a “fuck you” if they weren’t allowed to actually be endgame.

TL;DR: Gendry and Arya are one of the very few healthy couples in the entire series,  and it could be argued that they even get “special” treatment. Both of them lived and while Arya certainly has been traumatized, she is not a walking dumpster fire who wouldn’t be good for him. It would have been only too easy for them to be portrayed as incompatible or worse but they weren’t. Their breakup is over a virtual nonissue. So it’s not out of the range possibility that they were a victim of executive meddling.  

And please spare me any “bUt D&D aRe ToO STuPId tO dO tHis.” I’m not campaigning for them to win Pulitzers any time soon, but the notion that they’re complete nitwits is just silly. They both have M.F.A.s  from very good schools and their scripts/outlines that I’ve read have a lot of really clever and really well-thought-out references, ranging from history to poetry to literature to even The Rolling Stones.  

I’m not saying that they intentionally did all this stuff but they certainly could have if they wanted to.

[targaryen-stronghold]

Dany burning kings landing made no sense. I mean why? What was the point?

There was no point other than to vilify Dany and justify her killing in the next episode and the xenophobic behavior she encountered in the North.

1. Daenerys and “burning cities”

Dany is a Targaryen and she has dragons. Dragons were the Targaryens weapons for centuries, for obvious reasons and fire has always been their method of execution (symbolized in their house motto “fire and blood”). While the Starks used their greatsword Ice to execute traitors, the Targaryens used their dragons or fire. Therefore, Dany doesn’t need to know how to wield a sword when she has her dragons. However, she always used them to help the oppressed and destroy oppression. Like her haters like to bring up, she has indeed threaten her enemies with her dragons because duh, but several other characters have also threatened others and that doesn’t mean anything. But context is important: how and why she threatens to burn cities?

In Season 2, Dany arrives at Qarth. She and her people are exhausted from the Red Waste and she needs to enter the city in order for them to survive. Jorah even tells her the gates of Qarth are known as “garden of bones” because of the skeletons of people whose entering was denied. However, she’s met with suspicion and distrust and the Thirteen don’t want to let her in. When courtesy fails, Dany threatens to burn their city to the ground when her dragons are grown. This sounds more like despair than an actual threat because Dany knows neither she nor her dragons will survive if the Thirteen don’t grant them shelter. How could she burn their city to the ground if she and her dragons are dead? This threat also grants her the compliment: “you are a true Targaryen”.

Later on, during Season 5, Dany is chatting with Hizdahr zo Loraq and says one day Meereen will return to the dirt and at her command if needed be. However, this happens during the reopen of the fighting pits of Meereen. Dany is against it but eventually agrees because it’s tradition and important to her people. But she’s visibly uncomfortable during the fights and doesn’t recognize it as “greatness”. Hizdahr then says: that is a vital part of the great city of Meereen, which existed long before you or I, and will remain standing long after we’ve returned to the dirt. Dany is saying she doesn’t care about tradition, it’s the people she cares about. She’s also measuring Hizdahr’s loyalty in this scene. The real identity behind the Sons of the Harpy is still unknown at this point (Varys only unravels it’s funded by the former slave masters of the cities Dany freed later on). For all Dany knows, Hizdahr is still a suspect.

In Season 6, after returning from her venture with the Dothraki, Dany threatens to burn down Yunkai, Astapor and Volantis. Her city is under siege and attack. Her people (the people she freed) are in danger. She lashes out to protect them because she doesn’t want those she freed to slide back into chains and that’s what the former slave masters want. Also the Sons of the Harpy have been terrorizing the people of Meereen for some time now so of course Dany wants to put an end to it. She doesn’t go through with it, of course.

In short: every time Dany threatened to burn down a city (up until Season 8) she had a reason to do it and that reason was always to protect her people. It’s also unclear if she actually meant what she was saying because she never used her dragons for oppression or against innocents. She even lock them up when Drogon killed a child. Dany also made sure to always pay a respectful amount to shepherds whenever Drogon ate their sheep.

Shut up, Cat. You don’t want the audience to think you’re mad, do you?

2. The people of King’s Landing as victims

The “The Bells” was the first time ever in the series the people of King’s Landing were victimized by the plot. I’m not excusing the killing: I’m saying that up until S8 every time the narrative focused on them was to vilify them or to make them look fickle. Let’s see:

In Season 1, they cheered for Ned Starks’s execution, demanding for his head because he’s a traitor. The audience knows Ned was right in supporting Stannis Baratheon because he was Robert’s true heir, since Cersei’s children were Jaime’s bastards;

In Season 2, they mob against Joffrey Baratheon and Cersei Lannister (although one could agree they were justified because these characters are presented as villainous) but they tried to rape Sansa Stark (who’s a prisoner and also a victim of Joffrey and Cersei);

From Seasons 3 - 6, they cheer for Margaery Tyrell (she goes to the orphanages of the capital and funds several charity works so this is understandable) and Joffrey (when in previous season they were spitting on him) – this shows the audience how changeable they are

In Season 4, Tyrion Lannister talks about the wickedness and ungratefulness of the people of King’s Landing during his trial and regrets saving them;

In Season 5, they cheer for Cersei’s walk of shame and the narrative presents Cersei as a victim of their humiliation;

In Season 7, they cheer for Ellaria and Tyene Sand, and Yara Greyjoy’s capture and imprisonment and hail Queen Cersei and Euron (two characters who are presented as villainous by the narrative)

Euron and Jaime Lannister bring the inconsistency of the people of King’s Landing during their little chat in the very same episode: Jaime remarks the same mob was spitting on his sister not long ago and yet they are now cheering for her and Euron;

And then, out of the blue, we have this narrative in Season 8: mentally instable and villainous Daenerys Targaryen burns down the capital, murdering thousands of innocent citizens

This doesn’t work and doesn’t make any sense. You can’t spend SEVEN whole seasons solidifying the people of King’s Landing as wicked, inconsistent and ignorant and then victimized them in ONE episode because it suits the plot. This episode had one of the lowest rankings ever in the series and it’s not just because Dany’s character was butchered. The narrative itself doesn’t add up with what was previously established. 

3. Dany burning down King’s Landing

There was no reason whatsoever for Dany to burn down King’s Landing and kill thousands of innocent civilians. It doesn’t make sense from a military perspective and it’s illogical concerning her character. As said, every time she threatened to burn cities in past seasons she did it because she wanted to protect her people: either by wanting them to survive or to protect them from going back into slavery. Burning down King’s Landing is the complete opposite of her beliefs, and it does not fit her character or her motivations from previous seasons.

In Season 7 she specifically said she wanted to fly her dragons to the Red Keep and the Red Keep alone. She never said a word about laying waste to the entire city and there is no foreshadowing for her doing it, no matter how many nonsensical metas haters pull out of their sleeves, out of context gifs or D&D trying to justify their stupid writting options for her character.

But Season 8 was a bunch of nonsense and her character was entirely reconnected to serve this new “mad queen” plot: all her motivations suddently changed alongside with her character’s traits. Apparently protecting the people is no longer her first priority, she didn’t travel to Winterfell to protect the North but because she’s in love with Jon and the circus goes on until the bitter end.

Is this the same girl who spent years gaining the trust and love of the people of Essos!?

The purpose of this scene was to show Dany choosing fear as her method to rule over the people of Westeros and how Jon is more loved than she is. But this is such bollocks. Dany has only been to the Reach and the North, and outside the North no one knows or cares about Jon so this dialogue makes no sense. Actually, I doubt the people of the Reach fear Dany that much since she killed the Lannister soldiers who murdered countless innocents (including children) in Highgarden and terrorized farmers into giving up their crops. The majority of the people of Westeros don’t even know Dany or her motivations. The Riverlands despise both the Lannisters and the Starks because of the War of the Five Kings, and there are many Targaryen loyalists left. However, all of this was swept under the rug in the series. Dany knows she needs to earn the trust, love and respect of the people of Westeros because she has done the same in Essos, and that doesn’t happen overnight. Instead we got this. And yes, it’s stupid.

Conclusion

Dany burned down King’s Landing for three reasons:

Because D&D want to force the “mad queen” narrative down the audience throats: Dany is mentally instable, her father’s daughter, evil, a tyrant, even without any build-up;

For Jon to look heroic while killing her and have some ManPainTM afterwards;

For the Starks to be right in their xenophobic behavior because they are the heroes: “they are not xenophobes because she’s evil.”

That’s it, anon. That’s why she burned down King’s Landing in Season 8.

But does anyone take seriously a bunch of writers who kinda forgot the ringing of bells in GOT/ASOIAF lore does not mean a city is surrendering?

This scene is from Season 2, for fuck’s sake.

[firesign23]

I have a great love for Eyes Like Starlight - five head canons, please!

Okay, rather than headcanons, I’m going to give you the abridged “What happens between then and NYE”. Also, funny story, while hoping to fit in the New Year’s followup I had a great line pop into my head and was like “Yes! Perfect!” and then several hours later went “Oh, was that in Alright Outta Sight? I feel like that was in Alright Outta Sight. Fuck.” I… have not been brave enough to double-check.

So, first of all, they don’t meet next at Olenna’s NYE party. Brienne goes back to the house the next day to collect her car (when designated drivers drink, logistics must be considered) and runs into Jaime, who is even more attractive in jeans and a sweater and Brienne would like to die now, thanks. Like, she’s not even attracted to him, per se, he’s just so damn pretty it activates a primal urge to, like, break his face so he will stop looking at her. 

She asks him where the best place for coffee is, because seriously she needs a damn coffee. His directions are so convoluted she’s like “Nevermind, I’ll go to Starbucks.”/”Like hell you will, this is the best coffee in King’s Landing. Just, like, follow me in your car, I was heading there anyway.”

This is a bit weird, really, but honestly? Coffee. Coffeecoffeecoffee. He is, appallingly, right--the coffeeshop is this weird little hole in the wall, but the coffee is literally the best she’s ever had. The company… well, she invited him to sit at her table out of politeness, but she finds the conversation as invigorating as it was the night before--they argue, but in a way that feels like they’re both in one some great joke. It’s a nice time. They don’t exchange numbers or anything, but she’s not, like, hating him; if he’s at Olenna’s soiree (because the woman really would NOT be happy to hear it called a party, bless her), she’d talk to him. 

There’s still like two weeks to New Year’s Eve, so she pretty much forgets about it--she’s absolutely crushed with work at the clinic, it’s not important, etc. All of which is fine, except...

Margaery and Renly decide that she needs a break and drag her to their favourite gay club. It’s not really her thing, clubbing, but she doesn’t mind it--nobody does a double-take when she walks into the women’s bathroom, people are friendly, she might even dance a little. 

Guess who is also at said bar? Jaime Fucking Lannister. (Oberyn absolutely dragged him there) Somehow they end up shout-talking in a corner, and he compliments her in a way that seems genuinely sincere, and she’s having fun, until sloppily drunk Renly needs to be escorted on the walk home. Jaime walks with them, since he was mostly just talking to Brienne anyway, but there’s nothing weird about it, it’s just good to have extra hands while wrangling drunk people, and he leaves them at Renly’s door.  

She doesn’t see him again until Olenna’s party. He declines an (alcoholic) drink, makes a joke about needing his wits about him. They are so, so flirty without really realising it. But it’s, like, butterflies in the stomach for Brienne, especially when he wipes a crumb from the corner of her lips with his thumb and looks at her. They sort of meet and part throughout the evening, and even though she knows it is ridiculous, she starts thinking that maybe they’ll kiss at midnight. Not because, like, LOVE AND ROMANCE, but people do that. It could be sweet, and fun, and she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t expect her to go home with him for a fuck in return. (She hates Ron for many, many reasons, but the time he informed her that nobody would ever treat her nicely without wanting “A warm hole to stick it in” is very close to the top of the list; she doesn’t believe it, but she’s always aware that some men think like that.)

Sometime around 11, Jaime makes a comment about knowing where she is for the countdown, and those butterflies go hard. It’s ridiculous, she’s a professional, a grown woman, she doesn’t even like him that much. 

Except at ten to midnight she starts looking for him and he’s nowhere. Seven minutes, five, three… She greets the new year alone on a balcony, and hates the fact that a pretty face could make her feel like shit. (It’s not his face, though, though it is very pretty--it’s his sense of humour, and his intelligence, and the way he seems like an asshole but the more she watches him she doesn’t see him being unkind to someone unless they deserve it.)

(Jaime wasn’t drinking that night because he was on-call. Shortly after that comment about the countdown, which was most definitely about wanting to kiss her, he got called into the hospital. He couldn’t see her to let her know, and asked Tyrion to pass the message on. Tyrion entirely failed to do so.) 

Send me the title of a fic I’ve written or talked about and I’ll give you five headcanons, or send me 📚 and I’ll pic a random fic I have to give five facts/headcanons about! 

[a-libra-writes]

Spending Your First Time With the GoT Characters

THIS IS THE CUTE SHIT I LOVE. One anon requested first time with them, another how you lose your virginity to them, and i figured id roll it into one or it'd become redundant :p 

In this preference, you'll be with: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jamie Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion, Gendry

NED STARK

Ned would give you the most loving expression as he’d undress you, often pausing to give you firm kisses on your lips and neck. He would be nothing but considerate and would make sure you were comfortable with how he touched you and how quickly he undressed you. He’d end up forgetting his own clothes as he’d lie you down and caress down your body. He’d love just touching and squeezing your soft skin before slipping his rough fingers between your legs and stroking you while giving you firm kisses. As much as Ned would be aching for you, he wouldn’t enter you until you were sufficiently relaxed and quivering with pleasure. Once you were ready and you felt him fill you up, he’d love how you’d adjust your hips and sigh as you’d make yourself comfortable.

ROBB STARK

He’d be grinning like a fool, cheeks red and eyes bright at the fact such a lovely, wonderful person wants him. Robb would waste little time in giving you plenty of kisses and firm touches, eagerly wanting to move your clothes aside so he could feel your skin. The more you’d undress, the more eager he’d become, especially as you’d return the touches. He’d love to grind himself against you first, getting both of you out of breath and taking his time to make sure you’re ready. He’d keep you close as he’d enter you, taking a moment to ask if you’re alright even as he’s breathless and biting at your neck.

SANSA STARK

She would be a little nervous initially, but the worries would slowly melt away as you began to get lost in kisses and touches. Sansa would want to undress you first, taking in your breasts and hips and thighs as she began to slide the clothes off. She’d take her time touching and stroking between your legs, before long she’d ask if she could taste you. Sansa would have a surprising confidence, doubled by you returning the affection and wanting to pleasure her just as much. She’d be so turned on by your first orgasm that she’d just have to push you a little further, giving you extra touches while you gasped from the over-sensitivity. 

JON SNOW

He would try not to be nervous himself, trying to play it cool and “take the lead” so to speak, but as you’d crawl into his lap and kiss him until he can’t think straight, that would go out the window. He’d want nothing more than to feel every bit of you with his hands, stroking the warmth of your thighs and pressing his fingers into your warmth. He’d love the way you’d gasp and squirm and he’d want to use his tongue to make you come. He’d be more than eager to be inside you, but he’d take his time, giving you sweet praises as you adjusted to the new sensations. He’d want to kiss you, and he’d find it incredibly sexy when you moaned against his lips and held him closer. 

BENJEN STARK

Knowing that it was your first time with anyone, Benjen would go out of his way to make you feel like a spoiled princess. He’d praise everything, touching what he liked and kissing what he loved. He’d figure out what flustered you the most and do it without mercy. You’d tell him to knock it off with the teasing, but then he’d get serious, making you come fast and hard with his tongue. Once he licked you clean, he’d have a devilish smile as he’d ask if you’re ready. He was aching to be inside you, but Benjen understood that he had to take his time. Of course, he was more than eager to speed up his thrusts as you’d become more comfortable and beg him for it. Benjen would want you to claw at his back and his arms, not minding in the slightest if you left marks. 

JORY CASSEL

He’d be so happy that you were wanting to be with him, and once he learned he was your first, he was almost adorably determined to make sure it was enjoyable for you. You’d sigh and moan in contentment as he carefully touched and stroked you, leaving firm kisses on your breasts and stomach as he made his way to your legs. He was almost worshiping your body, lost in your scent before he finally dipped in his tongue and made you cry out and rock your body against him. Once you came, he’d still have bright red cheeks as he’d ask if you were comfortable, or if you wanted to stop. Jory would be a bit embarrassed by how you eagerly helped him out of his own clothes, and he’d love to hold you close as he entered you carefully. 

DOLOROUS EDD

Edd would be … conflicted. On one hand, he was ridiculously, stupidly in love with you. On the other, he felt like you deserved so much more than someone like him, especially in whatever dingy room you two could find for privacy. Once you reassured him with a firm kiss and began removing his clothes yourself, the outside began to slowly melt away as you two entered your own little world. He'd want to touch as much of you as possible, kissing every bit of your neck and chest. You're often hidden under so many layers, so Edd wanted to take in as much as possible. As he'd slowly enter you, he'd bury his face in your shoulder and mutter a string of sweet praises. 

MANCE RAYDER

It was obvious by the way he looked at you that he cherished and desired you, but Mance also understood boundaries. When you started to straddle him while you made out and guided his hands under your clothes, he was more than happy to oblige you. He'd kiss and leave hickeys on your neck while he pulled your clothes away, complimenting your lovely body. He loved the blush that crept on your cheeks as he teased your body and slipped his fingers between your legs, getting you wet and clinging to him before he led you to his cock. Between an encouraging smile and heavy breaths, he’d encourage you to ride him at your leisure and chase your pleasure first. 

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

He’s thought so much about being with you, but he never thought someone as fiery and lovely as you hadn’t been with someone before. Tormund felt like you were giving him something precious, and he just knew you had to be taken care of properly. He made sure your shared tent was full with comfortable furs and a warm fire, and he had a surprisingly tenderness as he undressed you and massaged the knots from your muscles. While he was fine with you undressing him, he made sure you were lying back like a spoiled cat so he could kiss your thighs, leaving little bites and pleasuring you until you were grabbing his hair and filling the tent with your moans. He’d want to keep going, too - giving you a second orgasm before he was pulling you into his lap, peppering kisses all over your neck and asking if you were ready for him. 

THEON GREYJOY

Theon would have the most smug look on his face when you told him, assuring you that he knew all along, and he was absolutely going to give you a “night to remember”. You punched his arm and he laughed as he reassured you. Theon would want to kiss you everywhere and left several love bites as he’d gradually undress you. He’d start to lose his attitude as he took in your body and flushed cheeks, surprised such a pretty, well-born girl like you wanted to be with him at all. His hands would greedily explore every bit, and his lips would do the same. He’d eat you out with a ferocity that dissolved you into gasps and shudders, then ask if you’d like more. It was hard to keep his smug attitude when he was too flustered over how flushed your cheeks were and how content you were.  

YARA GREYJOY

All Yara could do was smirk. While she was taken by some surprise, she liked that you told her matter of factly, with no shyness or shame. She decided to make it a memorable night for you, pulling you into her lap as soon as you both entered her captain’s quarters, She had all sorts of fun, leaving hickeys on your neck, teasing your body through your clothes before finally slipping her fingers in. Even then, she kept denying your pleasure, taking her fingers away just as you were about to finish. By the fourth time she did this, you irritably told her to hurry up, which you quickly realized was a mistake. Yara flipped you over, pinned you down and wickedly asked what her dear lover wanted. You’d end up begging for it several times by the time the night was over.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

Dany was pleased when you told her, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t until you were comfortable and wanted to spend an evening with her that she realized it. She remembered being so afraid when her first time came. She didn’t want you to feel a fraction of that fear. Dany would spend some time touching your body as she removed your clothes, giving you light kisses and taking her time to ensure you were comfortable. She wanted to both explore your body and let you take in all the sensations. Once she reached between your legs, she loved feeling your wetness and how you gasped with her lightest touches. Even after you’d come with her fingers, she’d ask if she could use her mouth next, and you noticed after both times she was very pleased with herself. 

JORAH MORMONT

While he’d have a fleeting moment of worry about your age difference, and if he really deserved someone such as you, he was quickly filled with adoration as you assured him that you wanted to be with him. Jorah would seat you in his lap and give you long, deep kisses as you touch his body as you pleased. Once you were comfortable, he’d undress you himself, earnestly telling you how beautiful and sweet you were. He’d end up flustering you with how he was so genuine with his praise. Jorah would want to taste you almost immediately, kissing you straight down to your legs, and pleasuring you until you were a quivering, gasping mess. By the time he pulled you back into his lap and thrust inside you, you were clinging to him and grinding your hips to take him deeper. 

MISSANDEI

She hadn’t had much experience herself, and none of them were particularly good memories, so in a way it was like you both were having a new experience together. Missandei liked to think of it that way. You both took a long bath together first, full of playful touches and deep kisses, before helping each other dry off and heading to your warm bed. Missandei liked holding you close so she could feel your heartbeat together with her’s, and when she touched between your legs, she loved how eager and sensitive you were. She thought your orgasm was the loveliest thing, the way you moaned and gasped, and she’d ask nicely before using her tongue to give you another. You wanted to do the same things to her, although she wouldn’t pressure you, and you thought it was cute how much she touched and patted your hair as she got closer to her own orgasm.

TYWIN LANNISTER

Having wanted you for some time, Tywin had already thought of how to make you comfortable. As he removed your wedding dress, he’d run his hands along your sides and down your back, occasionally kissing your neck and shoulder to make you shiver. Once you were bare before him, he’d stroke your thighs and kiss your breasts, then slip a hand between your legs. His fingers would stroke slowly and firmly, making you arch your back and hold onto him. The whole time, Tywin would admire your flushed cheeks and bright eyes, but he’d say nothing as you came undone in his arms. Once you’d caught your breath, he’d squeeze your hips and take you with a pace that was just as steady, but deep enough to draw several moans from you. It was slow enough not to hurt, but you could still feel every inch. The closer you were to another orgasm, the more he’d pick up the pace and encourage you to keep saying his name. 

TYRION LANNISTER

He loved you with all his heart, and he still felt like it was a dream that a kind, beautiful girl like you still wanted to be with him. He’d long decided that he would spoil you rotten. Tyrion took his time undressing you, praising your sweetness all the while, planting kisses on all his favorite places, which was most of your body. He’d still want to make you laugh, because he just loved that smile, but once he began touching you he wanted your moans instead. He’d touch and lick you with confidence, curious to what you would like best. He’d want to be in you as soon as you came down from your first orgasm, but he had the sense of mind to hand you a drink and ask how you were doing. After a shower of more kisses, he’d part your legs again and lose himself in how sweet and warm you felt. He’d still touch you, over sensitive or not, wanting you to come around his cock.

JAIME LANNISTER

Jaime thought you were joking at first, he’d seen so many suitors after you, he was sure you’d had your pick before you two were together. He was cocky, insisting that he’d spoil any other man for you, and you just scoffed and pulled him into a deep kiss. As he began undressing you and relishing in the gasps you’d make when he squeezed you, Jaime started to become quieter. He noticed how you’d look at him with such anticipation -  no, love - and how his touches made you shiver. It was new and exhilarating, but a strange, protective feeling came over him. He pulled you into his arms as he touched between your legs, whispering all sorts of sweet and filthy things at once. He had a sudden urge to come with you, so he’d eased himself inside and held you possessively until you two cried out together.

SANDOR CLEGANE

It made him damned nervous. In fact, he was probably more nervous that you - you actually wanted him, you held his face and kissed him with such affection that it was frightening. You reassured him it’s what you wanted, and as much as he grappled with it, he was already greedily pulling at your dress and dragging you to bed. The more you touched him so tenderly and became needier for kisses, the more possessive he became. He squeezed your ass tightly as he bit at your neck, wanting to leave bruises and hickeys, loving to hear how breathless you were. He loved stretching you out with his calloused fingers, feeling how you’d clench against him and slick his palm up. He didn’t want to admit to himself how much he loved hearing you cry out his name as you came. He wanted you in his lap when he thrust into you, wanting to really hold you close, as if you’d leave at any second. 

BRONN OF BLACKWATER

Bronn already knew you didn’t have much experience in this department, and he never faulted you for it. If anything, he tried not to think about how much he liked the idea of “teaching” you a few things. When you teased him about just such a thing, he couldn’t believe his luck, and gladly went to your chambers. He admired your stubbornness and gave you all sorts of dirty praises as he slowly undressed you. Bronn took his time, teasing and edging you, laughing when you told him to hurry up. Groping your ass and licking up your wetness was fun, but surprised himself at how much he wanted to be in you. He let you hold him close, thinking the way you nuzzled into his neck was cute, and relished the breathless gasps you gave as he began thrusting in and out. 

PETYR BAELISH

You knew he would take care of you, because he always treated you with such sweetness, but you hadn’t expected it to happen this quickly. He was just in such a romantic mood, wanting to shower you with gifts and touches, and you could see the eagerness in his eyes when he asked if you were comfortable to let him go further. Petyr removed your clothes swiftly, but he was quick to touch and reassure you, giving you loving kisses and gladly leaving hickeys behind on your neck and shoulders. As he’d touch between your legs and bring you to orgasm, his sweet words would become dirty praise, asking if you liked what he did to you and how much you wanted him. He didn’t quiet himself once he was finally inside you, quickly becoming possessive as he kept you in place and almost begged you to moan louder for him.

STANNIS BARATHEON

He expected this sort of thing, but seeing you on the bed in your lovely wedding gown was affecting the stern man more than he wanted to admit. His eyes kept taking in your shoulders, your lips, the way the dress hugged your legs, and before long he was helping you wiggle out of it. You knew that he wanted to touch you, and you had to reassure him that you wanted him to. It was enough to make Stannis’ cheeks turn a little pink. He lost himself in your warmth, allowing himself to relax, and you felt safe in his surprisingly strong grip. You didn’t expect how carefully he held you, or the soft apology he gave as he slowly thrust in you. You gladly gave yourself over to the new and pleasurable sensations. Afterward, Stannis was unsure how to process these new feelings and thoughts, but he offered to draw you a bath and made sure you were comfortable in bed afterward, quietly asking if he could do anything else for you. You liked the gentleness in his voice as he said this, and he was just as attentive in the  morning.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

As you kissed him firmly and brought him close to you, Davos quietly asked if you were sure you wanted to be with him. He was still concerned about the status difference between you, never mind the age gap. When you’d firmly press yourself against him and reassure him of your love, he’d melt and find himself unable to deny you anything. He’d shower you with plenty of affection as the two of you removed your clothes, and before long Davos became lost in the warmth and softness of your body. He knew just how to finger you and stroke you while kissing your neck and chest, and relished in the way you held him closer and begged for him. As you’d come down from your orgasm, he’d pull you into his lap and murmur how much he wanted you. He’d start out at a slow and steady pace for you, only going faster once he was sure you were comfortable. Afterward, he’d be nothing but doting and loving, tucking you in bed and letting you snuggle into him all you wanted.

MARGAERY TYRELL

She wouldn’t tease you at all for being mostly inexperienced, because she didn’t have much herself. Margaery knew the things she liked, however, and she wanted to try lots of things she heard about with you. You laughed at the mischievous glint she had in her eyes as she gently laid you down. Her kisses were full and loving, although her hands were snaking under your dress. She was matter of fact with her compliments, loving the feeling of your breasts in her hands and the warmth of your thighs as her fingers ran along them. She started to touch you with her fingers, but before long her curiosity was too much and she wanted to use her tongue. Margaery loved how you moaned her name as you came, and you realized you were at her mercy as she kept stroking and touching you. Margaery gave you a sweet kiss to your brow when she finished, trying not to grin at how flushed and breathless you were. 

BRYNDEN TULLY

He admitted he wasn’t so sure at first, wondering if a lady such as yourself should be with an old knight like him in the first place. Still, your insistence would warm his heart and he knew he had to spoil his girl rotten. He’d teasingly ask how you’d like it as he thrust his fingers in and out, coating them in your wetness once you finished. Brynden would assure you that you didn’t have to go any farther if you weren’t comfortable, and when you told him you were ready, he’d smile warmly. He’d hold you close and enter you carefully, giving you time to relax around this thick size. It wouldn’t take long for him to get lost in your body and thrust a little too quickly; he’d breathlessly apologize and kiss your brow if it hurt too much.

EDMURE TULLY

He was confident through your courtship, sweet through the wedding ceremony and a little flirty through the subsequent feast, but once you two entered the bedroom, Edmure suddenly became a little nervous. It wasn’t new for him, but you were more than special to him, and he didn’t want to disappoint you. He began to pull your dress away and marvel in your beauty, his hands eagerly seeking out the places that made you sigh and shiver. Edmure would insist you tell him if it hurt too much while he was inside you. As you’d wrapped your arms around him, he’d give you plenty of kisses and thrust at a steady pace that filled you up and made you shudder. He’d stop now and again to touch you, and he’d definitely want you to come first. 

BRIENNE OF TARTH

Brienne thought she would be nervous when this time came, perhaps even fearful. She  hated thinking about it before, after all. She hardly had experience, but she knew her feelings. She knew she loved and trusted you, and you thought the same of her. It was a comforting thought as you both rested in each other’s arms, your kisses and touches naturally becoming something more. It just felt right as she slid your nightgown down and you began to untie her loose shirt. She loved your reassuring smile, and how those lips quivered when she explored your body. Brienne didn’t think she was any good with flowery words, so she spoke honestly, praising your beauty and kindness. She hadn’t ever imagined how you might come, but now that she’d seen it, she was sure whatever she could’ve thought wouldn’t measure up. You two enjoyed each other’s embraces and company, eventually falling asleep snuggled up together.

RAMSAY BOLTON

He was absolutely delighted that you hadn’t been touched before, or at least, you’d never gone this far with anyone else. He’d say as much as he’d undress you, praising you for being “his” and letting him have this “present”. Ramsay would be quick to toss the clothes aside and take your body in his hands. He’d eagerly squeeze every bit as he’d leave hickeys all over your neck and breasts. He’d actually spend quite a bit of time marking you up and groping you, only stopping briefly to remove some of his clothes. He’d grasp your hips and lick you hard and fast, making you come too quickly, then he’d keep at it to give you another one and turn you into a whimpering mess. The transition to his cock would be swift, which would make you cry out, but he’d thrust slowly after that. He’d want to take in every expression you made, relishing in it, asking if you were pleased and if you wanted him to go faster. 

ROOSE BOLTON

To say he was pleased about this was an understatement. You could absolutely tell by the glint in his eyes when you told him. You teased Roose to be gentle, and you wondered what he had in mind when he pulled you toward him. He’d leave love bites up your neck and chest while fingering you, wanting to hear you shudder and feel you clenching around his fingers. He’d want you to be louder as you came, but if you were quieter, it’d be a charming surprise. As he’d pull you to him and finally thrust inside you, he’d immediately have a feeling of possessiveness and would hold you tight as he thrusted inside you. Roose wouldn’t want to intentionally hurt you, but he’d enjoy the slight gasps and little whines his harder thrusts would give you. Afterward he surprised you with how he wanted to draw you a hot bath - even wanting to bathe you himself - and how he already had clean sheets and a comfortable fur ready. 

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn had suspected you hadn’t been with someone before, not that he faulted you for it at all. He was open about your comfort and boundaries, and when you were ready, he promised he’d make it special. Oberyn planned to spoil you, because you deserved the best. In a hot bath he’d massage your legs and kiss your neck, biting at your ear as he playfully asked if he could touch you. He’d stroke you and leave hickeys on your neck, only letting you come once you said his name several times. He’d want to dry you off and wrap you in one of his silk robes, before picking you up and whisking you away to the bedroom. Oberyn would kiss from your ankles to your legs, wanting to taste you and overstimulate you, and only then would he pull you into his lap and grind his length against your wet core. As he entered you, he’d have plenty of praise and guidance, telling you how to move your hips to be more comfortable and asking what you’d like him to do. He’d be so proud of you as you’d become more confident, and he wouldn’t let himself finish until you were fully satisfied again. 

BERIC DONDARRION

As much as he loved to cling to you and spend several evenings showering you in kisses, he’d always told you that he’d wait if you weren’t comfortable with going further. He was happy you trusted him and wanted him for your first experience; you could tell from his grin. Beric would pull out all the stops; showering you in kisses while he touched your body through your clothes, then slowly undressing you and kissing all the skin he exposed. He’d whisper praise after praise, telling you how beautiful you are, grinning at how flustered you’d become. He’d keep murmuring sweet words as he’d finger you and stroke you, loving how you’d cling to him and rock against his fingers. Once you came, he’d eagerly lick you clean and again ask if you were ready. He’d enter you carefully, letting you feel every inch and wanting to hold you close. Beric would keep his slow and steady pace, breathless as he was, and only speeding up if you “asked sweetly”.

GENDRY

He blushed to his ears when you told him you’d haven't actually been with anyone before. He hadn’t, either, but he was so sure a wonderful girl like you deserved something better than the small room you both stole away in. Your kiss reassured him, though, and he asked that you tell him if he did something you didn’t like. Once you both began to undress and explore each other’s bodies, he grew in confidence, only spurred on by your hands running down his chest and arms. He’d touch and feel how wet you were, and with your encouragement, would stroke you with his rough hands until you came. He’d love sinking into you with his cock, almost losing himself right there. He’d hold you tightly and protectively as he thrusted into you, sighing your name as he kept pace.