#oh Ser if you only knew what your Lady has done...

[greenaswildfire]

"She's saved my life, twice. Once from the headman's axe, once from myself. Since then, she's been the beacon I follow."

Ser Criston Cole, S02E08

No matter what you say, this line is the only one that could rival Aegon's "The queen is an enduring mystery".

[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 10 - Signs and Portents

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: description of an animal being killed.

Daena crushing on Harwin and vice versa 🙈

Corresponding episode: HOTD 1x3

HOTD masterlist

"In 114 AC, a great royal hunt was held in the Kingswood in honor of Prince Aegon's second name day. Lords and ladies from throughout the realm came together to celebrate. Lord Jason Lannister tried wooing Princess Rhaenyra but was coldly rejected by her.

The war in the Stepstones took a turn for the worse. The Velaryon fleet and its soldiers were losing and the Triarchy was on the brink of victory. Even with the help of dragons, the Westerosi had a hard time dealing with the Essosi pirates. In the end, Daemon Targaryen slew the Crabfeeder and brought peace to the Stepstones."

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

~

114 AC, King's Landing

The Small Council chamber looked different this day. The table was covered in pastries, roast pigs, ribs, sweet cakes, fruits, wine, goblets, and plates. The room was filled with people. Why? Because today was Aegon's second name day and for that reason, a great hunt was organized in the Kingswood. 

Daena was standing and talking to her friends and handmaidens, Joy and Hanna. She sipped on her wine, gods knew she would need it if she was to survive the next three days. As a member of the Royal family, it would be suspicious if she didn't participate in the hunt. She would rather throw herself off the Wall into the frigid wastelands of the far North than spend one hour around the Hightowers but alas, here she was. 

"He has your hair, Your Grace." Some lord said and her uncle responded positively while they all cooed at the little boy. 

"He has your eyes, Your Grace." Some other lord said, kissing up to her fickle uncle. She rolled her eyes and sighed. 

"Is something the matter, Princess?" Joy asked with a knowing smirk. Daena tilted her head and gave her a look. The girl laughed and patted Daena on the shoulder. 

"Oh, come on Princess! The hunt will be so much fun!" 

Daena scoffed and chugged down the rest of her wine. She looked to her right and saw Ser Otto and his brother, Lord Hobert, conversing in hushed voices. "What are those snakes talking about, I wonder." She thought. 

"Come. Eat. Fortify yourselves for the journey." She heard her Uncle say. 

"Shall we eat something, Princess?" Hanna asked. 

"I've lost all appetite once I learned I had to attend this stupid event," Daena replied sharply, looking down at her empty goblet. 

"Now, now, Princess. It would be best to not let your...negative feelings toward Her Grace impact how you feel about the hunt. You love hunting!" Hanna replied in a hushed tone, careful not to attract attention. 

"Besides, you don't actually have to spend time with her. Once we arrive in the Kingswood you can go wherever you please." Joy added in her usual bright voice. 

Daena sighed. "You two are right. As always." The twins giggled victoriously. Daena smiled and shook her head. 

"Can someone tell me where in the Seven Hells Rhaenyra might be?" Her Uncle asked loudly, his voice laced with annoyance.  

Daena was with Rhaenyra in the morning, when they were getting ready. Quickly after getting her hair done, she left the room, saying she wanted to be alone. Daena respected her wishes and left her be. 

"Daena!" She heard her name being called and she turned only to see her uncle and the men around him looking at her. She gave her goblet to Joy and quickly walked over to the table. 

"Your Grace," She said politely with a bow of her head. 

"Where is Rhaenyra?" Her Uncle asked her in the same annoyed tone. 

"I...don't know, Your Grace. She was with me in the morning, but after getting ready she left my chambers saying she wanted to be alone. I respected her wish and left her be." Daena said truthfully, not wanting to annoy her uncle any further. Her uncle sighed. 

"Do you want me to go and look for her, Your Grace?" 

He shook his head. "No. No. You shouldn't worry about her. Eat, today is a joyous day. I'm sure you'll enjoy the hunt." He said in a softer tone and patted her on the shoulder. 

She smiled awkwardly and excused herself, not wanting to be in the presence of that Hightower snake any longer. 

~

"Well, isn't this splendid? The whole of our family off to celebration and adventure in the Kingswood." Uncle Viserys commented as they rode in the royal coach. 

Daena and Rhaenyra gave him unimpressed looks and abstained from commenting. Then, the coach hit a bump in the road and it shook a little bit. 

"Should you be traveling in such condition?" Nyra asked Alicent who looked uncomfortable. 

"The maester said that being out in nature would do me well." She responded, clutching at her large belly. 

"You will be with your own child sooner than late, and make me a proud grandsire." Uncle Viserys said to Rhaenyra. 

"It's not so bad. The days are long, but Aegon came quickly and without fuss." Alicent commented. 

An awkward silence fell over the coach. The maids sitting across Daena and Nyra gave each other looks. Nyra swallowed hard while Daena looked at Alicent with furrowed brows. "Gods, how dense is she?" 

To break the tension, Uncle Viserys said they should ride out with him today and join the chase. 

"I'd rather not. Boars squeal like children when they're being slaughtered. I find it discomforting." Nyra said. 

"It's a hunt, Rhaenyra." Uncle Viserys responded. "How would you like to participate?"

"I'm not sure why I must," Rhaenyra said. 

"Because you are my daughter, the Princess. And you have duties." Uncle stated. 

"As I am ceaselessly reminded," Nyra said under her breath.

"I'm sorry?" Said Uncle Viserys.

"As I am ceaselessly reminded!" Nyra repeated, louder. 

"You wouldn't need to be reminded if you ever attended to them." Uncle Viserys said, annoyed. 

"I'll go. I'll join the hunt." Daena spoke, trying to break the tension. 

"See, Rhaenyra, that is how a real Princess attends to her duties." Uncle Viserys remarked. Daena looked down at her boots, avoiding Nyra's gaze. This was going to be a long day. 

They finally arrived at the Kingswood. Uncle Viserys got out first, followed by Alicent and the maids in charge of Aegon. Daena could hear the people outside clapping and cheering. She looked at Nyra - she looked miserable. 

"Look. I know you don't wanna be here, neither do I. Just promise me you'll try and enjoy this day." Daena said to her cousin, trying to comfort her. 

Nyra looked at her and Daena could see so many emotions in her violet eyes. She took Nyra's hand and squeezed it. "I'll go first, hmm?" With that, she got up and looked out of the coach. 

Most people have scattered away. But not all. Standing next to the coach was House Strong - Lord Lyonel, Joy and Hanna, their other brother Larys, and...him. He walked over to the coach and offered his hand and she took it, carefully walking down the steps. 

"Thank you, Ser Harwin." She thanked him with a bright smile. 

"Princess." He greeted her, his voice deep and masculine. Gods, she loved his voice. His sister stole her attention. Joy almost knocked her over with how strongly she hugged her. 

She laughed and patted Joy on the back. "We saw each other only hours ago, Joy." 

"I know, but I missed you." 

Daena smiled at the brown-eyed girl and was about to leave with them, but then she remembered Rhaenyra. 

She called for Nyra who came out of the coach after a couple of seconds. Together, they walked to the royal tent.

~

The two princesses walked into the royal tent, Hanna and Joy closely behind them. Over the years, the four girls have created a close-knit relationship. Even though they were officially Daena's maids, the twins often helped Rhaenyra as well. 

The same went for Rhaenyra's maids - Elinda Massey was Nyra's youngest and gentlest of maids; she had light brown hair and beautiful green eyes. Daena would often call the young girl to her chambers for she loved spending time with the young lady. 

Daena looked around - the tent was filled to the brim with lords and ladies. There were many tables, chairs, curtains and settees. "Try and find a free table where we may sit," Daena whispered to Hanna. The girl nodded and the two sisters went to search for a free table. 

Nyra and Daena walked further into the tent, hand in hand. Nyra wore a masterfully embroidered riding coat made of grey leather with red accents and her hair was loose save for a small bun at the back.

Daena wore a dark, blood-red riding coat with ruffled shoulders, a high collar, and leather boots on her feet. Her hair was braided into a crown that sat beautifully on top of her head, freeing her oval face and her bright lilac eyes. She had small ruby studs on her ears. 

As they walked closer, they could hear women gossiping about the abduction of Lady Johanna Swann. 

"...It's an inhospitable place suited only for savages." 

"Perhaps the Princess...can give us some insight." Said Lady Ceira Lannister, looking at Daena. 

Now that she was called out, Daena had to respond. "I'm not sure how I could. I've never been to the Stepstones." She said, walking closer to the circle of ladies who all sat around Alicent. Daena noticed that Larys Strong was also there. 

"Your dear father is the great mind behind this war. Is he not?" Questioned Lady Lannister. 

"How would I know? I haven't spoken to my father in years." Daena replied curtly. 

"Since your cousin supplanted him as heir." Lady Ceira remarked, looking at Rhaenyra. 

"Daemon made his choices, Lady Ceira. Princess Rhaenyra was more suited to the role." Alicent spoke, ever the courtly Queen. 

"He's made a mess and the King must put an end to it. Send fleets and men and clear out the Triarchy for good." Commented Lady Redwyne. 

"...But the Crown is not at war," Nyra said confused.

"The Crown...is at war, Princess. Though your father refused to admit it, we've been dragged into it by your uncle and the Sea Snake." Lady Redwyne responded, petting her pug. 

"And how have you served the realm as of late, Lady Redwyne, by eating cake?" Nyra questioned while looking at her nails. 

Daena had to suppress a smirk from appearing on her face. Nyra glanced pointedly at Alicent and quickly walked away. Daena followed suit. 

~

Instead of going outside with Nyra, Daena found the twins and sat down with them. They chose the perfect table - her grandmother, Lady Rowena was seated there, and alongside her was a younger lady, around Daena's age. 

Daena smiled at her grandmother and kissed her hand. "Grandmother." She greeted. 

"My little dove, how good it is to see you. Sit." Lady Rowena greeted softly. Daena sat across from her grandmother and next to Hanna. 

She looked at the girl seated next to her grandmother - she wore a daisy-yellow gown with black accents cut in the Southern style and her mousy brown hair was held up by a hair net. She had little flower earrings on her ears and a small bee-shaped necklace. But her eyes were closed and she made no reaction to Daena's appearance. 

Daena looked at her grandmother who gestured that the girl couldn't see. Oh. She was blind. "Hello, my lady. I am Princess Daena. It's a pleasure to meet you." Daena introduced herself politely. 

The girl lifted her head in the direction of Daena's voice. "Princess, it's an honor to meet you. I am Patricia Beesbury." She introduced herself, her voice gentle and kind, like a spring breeze. 

Daena smiled even though the girl couldn't see. "Oh? Lord Beesbury serves on the Small Council."

Patricia chuckled. "Yes, my grandsire has been on the Council for decades. He must be doing something right, seeing as they kept him around for so long." She jested, making everyone around the table laugh. 

From the corner of her eye, Daena could see Rhaenyra storming in and walking up to her father. "Is that what I am to you? A prize to proffer about to the Great Houses?" She asked angrily. Daena turned in her seat to get a proper look - Uncle Viserys and Nyra argued quietly, anger visible on both of their faces. 

"...And I have tried often to discuss it with you, but you've refused me at every turn." Uncle Viserys said angrily, loud enough for people to turn their heads. 

"That is because I do not wish to get married!" Nyra responded, matching her father's anger. 

"Even I do not exit above tradition and duty, Rhaenyra!" His Grace yelled. 

Then Ser Otto of all people decided to step in and inform His Grace that the white hart had been sighted. Before Daena could stop her, Rhaenyra stormed out of the tent. 

As promised, Daena joined in the hunt. She rode alongside Joy and Harwin. Hanna stayed behind in the tent; hunting was always Joy's thing, she said. Hanna was more suited for courtly politics than her older sister. 

As they rode further into the Kingswood, Daena couldn't help but steal glances at the man slightly in front of her. She was behind just enough for him not to notice her constant gazing. She couldn't help herself; he was probably the most handsome man Daena had ever met. But he was also kind, funny, and surprisingly gentle-hearted.

She observed how his dark curls bounced slightly thanks to the motion of riding. She wondered how it would feel to run her fingers through his thick curls, how it would feel to wrap them around her fingers-

"Princess." A voice called her. It was Joy. "We've arrived at the spot." 

"Oh," Daena uttered and looked down, embarrassed that she was caught in her daydreaming. She cleared her throat and tried ignoring Joy's knowing looks. 

~

They returned to camp and once again, Daena sat with her grandmother, Lady Patricia, and the twins. Despite her best efforts, all she could think about was Ser Harwin; she thought about how he helped her off the coach, the tenor of his voice whenever he greeted her, and how she always had to look up to see his face properly. 

At that moment, she realized something that she'd been denying for years now - she fancied him. A lot. It seems other people realized that as well. 

"What's happening in that head of your, child? You've been awfully quiet ever since you returned from the woods." Her grandma commented. 

She blinked away her dazed appearance. "What? No, I'm fine, nanna, don't worry about me." 

Lady Rowena raised a brow and gave Daena a look that said she wasn't convinced. Joy looked like she wanted to implode.

"Oh, come on Princess! Just admit it! It's obvious!" Joy said not being able to contain herself anymore. 

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Daena said dismissively. 

"You know exactly what I am talking about." Joy retorted. 

"What seems to be the issue?" Lady Rowena asked.

"Nothing!" Daena said, trying to cease this conversation. 

"Daena fancies Harwin!"Joy blurted out before she could stop herself. 

"Joy!" Daena exclaimed in disbelief. Hanna slapped Joy's arm and condemned her for speaking out of line. Joy quickly apologized. 

"Oh, I see. Matters of the heart can be a touchy subject." Lady Rowena commented with a new understanding of the situation. 

Daena sank into her chair and hoped that the earth would open and swallow her alive. She loved Joy and her lively nature, but sometimes she was hard to control, especially her tongue. 

"I need some fresh air," Daena muttered and briskly walked out of the tent. 

~

Ser Harwin was outside, talking to Ser Rymun Mallister of Seaguard. Then, Princess Daena stormed out of the royal tent, looking very upset. She went over to the horses, quickly got atop her mare, and galloped out of the camp. 

He wondered what made her so upset to run off like that. He wanted to follow her and ask her; but he wasn't her sworn protector, it wouldn't be appropriate. Then out of nowhere, his sister Joy appeared, looking concerned. 

"Harwin, there you are." She said breathlessly. 

"Joy, what happened?"

"I made a mistake. I upset the Princess. Please go after her and bring her back to camp. Princess Rhaenyra also ran off. The last thing the King needs is to find out both of the Princesses are gone." She explained. 

"What did you do to upset her so much?" He questioned. 

"I...I spoke out of line. I said something that I shouldn't have. Just go and bring her back, please." She pleaded.

Harwin contemplated. If Princess Daena was anything like her father when she was angry, he wouldn't want to be in the way of her fury. On the other hand, he didn't want anything bad to happen to the Princess.

Over the years, he became fond of the princess - her soft voice whenever she greeted him, the way her face lit up every time her eyes fell upon him, the way she giggled when she found something funny, her sharp-tongued quips and of course, her otherworldly beauty.

"Fine. I'll go." He said and went to search for the missing princess.

~

Daena found herself at the edge of a large lake. She could see hoof prints in the earth; Rhaenyra must have been here, she thought. She had her mare tied to a tree while she took a walk alongside the lake. She already took 3 turns. Once she finished the third lap, she sat down at the edge of the lake and just stared into the water.

She shouldn't have stormed off like that. Sometimes her anger would get the best of her and she did and said things she regretted, and this was one of them. It's the fire in your blood, her father said to her years ago when she was a child. She was no longer a child. She was a woman grown and her outbursts wouldn't be tolerated any longer. 

What Joy said was correct - she did fancy Ser Harwin. Maybe it was more than that, she wasn't sure. She hated how right Joy was. She hated that Joy put it into words and said it out loud. She was scared of it; of the way her heart skipped a beat whenever he would look at her or whenever he spoke her name using that deep voice of his. She didn't know how to deal with any of it. So she ran away from it. 

"Gods, if he loves me, please give me a sign." She whispered, closing her eyes. 

~

He didn't know where he was going or how far into the woods the Princess wandered into. Luckily for him, after a while, he struck gold. He came upon a large lake in the middle of the forest. A mare was tied to a nearby tree - her mare.

Instead of yelling and scaring her, he decided to quietly follow the path. The sight that greeted him confused him - the princess was sitting at the edge of the lake, her back turned to him. She seemingly hasn't noticed his presence. 

"Princess." He called for her gently, careful not to startle her. After a second, she slowly turned her head. He was met with her bewildered face. 

"Ser Harwin?" She asked as if she'd seen a ghost. 

He got off his horse and walked over to her. He looked over her; she didn't seem hurt in any way, though her eyes did appear to be glossy. 

"Are you alright, Princess?" He asked, offering her a hand. She took it and he pulled her up. She gazed at him, her lilac eyes wide and full of emotion. Her lips were slightly parted as she took in a deep breath. 

"I'm fine." She answered barely above a whisper. 

"We must return to camp, Princess." He said softly. She didn't respond, just continued looking at him. 

"Princess?"

"I am so glad to see you." She said all of a sudden, her voice soft and breathy. He sucked in a breath at her words and the way her pupils widened when she said it. 

"I'm glad to see you too, Princess, but we must return to camp before they find the hart." He said and reluctantly pulled away from the warmth of her body. 

~

They slowly rode back to the camp in silence. She glanced at him as a thought swirled in her mind. She's been thinking about it for a while but never dared to ask. 

"Tell me something, Ser Harwin." She said and he turned his head to look at her. She had to stop herself from avoiding his gaze. 

"I've had this thought for a while, but I wanted to hear your opinion before asking His Grace." 

"My opinion on what, Princess?" 

"I wish to have a sworn protector. And, I was wondering if perhaps... you'd like to take that position?" 

Ser Harwin was quiet. Too quiet for her liking. Did she say something wrong? Did he not want to be her protector? Maybe she thought wrong. Maybe he didn't like her at all.

"You honor me, Princess. Are you certain you want me?"

She chuckled. Of course, she wanted him. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life." 

"Then, yes, I would."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" She said, smiling at him, and started galloping toward the camp.

King Viserys and Lord Lyonel were in the royal tent, discussing Rhaenyra's future husband and who would be the best match for her. Then, his niece Daena appeared from nowhere. 

"Daena! Where were you?" His Grace asked. 

"Out in the woods." She answered matter-of-factly. 

"Alone?" 

"Well, yes. I had to clear my head." 

"You could've been killed!" He exclaimed. 

"Now, now, Uncle. Why are you being so pessimistic?" She said and the tone of her voice reminded Viserys of Daemon. She inherited her father's nonchalant demeanor.  

"I wanted to talk to you about something. If you have the time."

His Grace sighed. "Of course, my dear. What is it?"

She smirked and it once again reminded His Grace of his younger brother. Daena walked closer and sat down next to her uncle. 

"Seeing as I am of age now, I would like to have a sworn protector, who will, well, protect me." 

"That can be arranged." He Grace replied. 

"No, no, no. You don't have to arrange anything. I already know who I want." She said confidently. 

"Oh. Well, speak it. Who is it?" Her uncle asked. 

She looked to the side and smirked. She gestured for the person to step forward. "Ser Harwin." 

Ser Harwin walked closer and stood next to his father, Lord Lyonel. He bowed and greeted the King. 

"Well, Ser Harwin, what do you say? Would you take up the position my niece has offered?"

Ser Harwin glanced at his father, then at Daena. "If Your Grace allows it, I would be honored to guard the Princess."

His Grace nodded. "Of course, of course. I am certain you will do excellently, Ser."

Daena giggled and clapped her hands victoriously. She pecked the King on his cheek. "Thank you, thank you, Uncle. You're the best!"

~

In the early hours of the morning, Daena once again found herself in the woods. This time she wasn't alone. She was a part of the royal hunting group and it seems they have finally found a hart. It wasn't the white one Ser Otto has been talking about the whole time but it was a beautiful creature nonetheless. 

Daena stood next to Joy and watched from a distance as her uncle got off his horse - he was hungover, she realized; it didn't surprise her with how much wine he drank last night. 

"He may not be white, Your Grace. But he's a big lad." She heard Harwin say as he and two other men held the animal down with ropes. 

Uncle Viserys looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. He was never a violent man. He preferred throwing balls and tourneys, not killing; that was more of her father's specialty. He reluctantly took a spear from Jason Lannister and walked closer to the tied-up animal. 

He stabbed the animal in the neck but it still lived - it thrashed around and squealed in pain. His Grace stabbed again and again until the poor animal stopped moving. It was a sad sight. That was not a clean kill, the poor thing suffered until the end, Daena thought as everyone started to clap. She had to join in. 

"That was horrific. Poor thing." Joy whispered in her ear. Daena gave a nod of agreement but said nothing. 

~

Daena was standing next to Joy, Ser Harwin, and their brother Larys. She mostly ignored the Clubfoot; there was something about him that unnerved her. Harwin was skinning an animal leg while she and Joy talked. 

Then, something caught Harwin's attention as he looked up. Daena, Joy, and Larys followed suit. It was Rhaenyra. She was covered in blood and had a serious expression on her face. Daena smirked as all the other people either looked shocked or disgusted. 

"Gods, I leave her alone for a day and she comes back all bloody... Come on Joy, we have to find out what happened." Daena said with a smile and took Joy's hand as the two girls went after Rhaenyra. 

***

Ahhh, we see that over the years, Harwin and Daena have developed crushes on each other though they're still too reluctant to talk about it. Joy (just like her twin) is someone who's very observant and she notices things, and she likes to tease. However, she took it a bit too far in this chapter.

We are also introduced to Patricia Beesbury who will also become an ally to Daena/Rhaenyra in the future.

Thank you for reading! 💕💕💕

If you have any questions/thoughts feel free to comment. ☺

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/755006614866657280/these-pics-give-me-an-idea-for-a-canon-au-idea?source=share

The council is shocked that morning when Ser Criston returns to his post as Lord Commander, and Aemond is made Hand of the King. Though she might not be present physically in those meetings, it is clear to the Green Council lords who really rules the realm- Princess Daenora, through her unwavering hold on both brothers. Alicent isn't too pleased- her daughter is able to rein in her sons in a way Alicent cannot, and she clearly has more power than Alicent ever had, and she doesn't even wear a crown. "Daenora," Alicent steps into her daughter's sitting room. "Mother," Nora smiled up at her, a knowing smirk gracing her lips. She was no fool, she knew of much that took place in the Red Keep.

"It would be best if you left the matters of ruling to the council," Alicent said stiffly. "It is not suitable for you to take advantage of your brothers' affection for you-" "And do you not take advantage of Ser Criston's affection for you, Lady Mother?" Nora countered. Alicent's face paled. "I wonder where Ser Criston was, that night," Nora stood, circling her Mother. "The night that my sweet, poor, innocent nephew was slain at Uncle Daemon's order." "You know not-" "Believe me, Mother. I know more than you think. You cling to notions of diplomacy, of a peaceful resolution- do you not see that we are at war? You were strangely silent when Aegon, when any of us needed comfort when Jaehaerys was taken- yet your tongue is ablaze today when you are reminded of just how weak your influence in that room truly is." Nora said firmly.

"I mourned him, he was my grandson-" "We would not need to mourn him, if the Lord Commander had done his job," Nora snapped. "Instead of having my mother ride him like the whore of Oldtown-" "Do not speak to me in such manner," Alicent hissed. "Do not think I am unaware of your indiscretions, daughter, of where you have ventured in the night." "Oh? And tell me, which of our indiscretions has caused more damage." She challenged. Alicent remained silent- she had long tried to handle Daenora's fiery nature, but the death of Jaehaerys had wounded them all, and now she was a dragon ready to burn. "You must accept this is what things are now. Lucerys is dead. Jaehaerys is dead. There is no peaceful resolution, no treaty. Blood has been drawn, and there is no coming back from it." Alicent realises that she can't deny her daughter's power at court, at council, anymore. Also, in canon era, I was thinking Nora would ride Silverwing? Not sure, which dragon suits her?

"I am not to blame for what happened to Jaehaerys. If your brother was not so desiring to drink; his guards would be where they had been needed." Alicent snapped. Her doe eyes looked her daughter up and down with a scoff.

All she could see was another version of the spoiled Princess that was Rhaenyra. "You should take my seat, daughter. Enjoy it." Alicent only smirked before brushing past her.

Silverwing is cute! Seemingly docile but changes in an instant. love it !!

[lya-dustin]

(@queen--kenobi) Oh the bed prompt #8, dealer's choice as the pairing!

ohh I love that perse💙💙💙

⁸⁾ in a fit of anger after a mission gone wrong, both characters sleep in the only available bed because no one was chivalrous to offer to take the floor

Desperate Measures

cw: mentions of murder, poison, sex, implied sexual abuse, referenced domestic abuse, mentions of court intrigue

Jena Mertyns knows damn well what awaits her if she does not do this.

She has no brothers and while Andal law prohibited a cousin or an uncle inheriting before a daughter, Jena knew they would just marry her to her brute of a cousin and call it a day.

After all that was what they did when she was six and ten a decade ago. And now Casper Mertyns was dead by her own hand only to have his odious brother dispose of his bride after she finally birthed a healthy son and brought the matter to the King.

Jena could not become Byron the Brute’s wife nor lose Mistwood to that fucker. She didn’t kill her drunkard of a father and her cruel husband to lose her freedom and rights to Byron of all people.

The only way to keep her title and lands away from her goodbrother was to seek a husband with the power to shift the small council’s favor to her and give her the son Casper the Cunt lacked the virility to provide her with.

Not necessarily a lord paramount nor the heir to a greater house, the son or a member of the King’s Privy Council would do. But Beesbury’s sons are wed, Larys Strong would kill her before she can kill him, recently widowed Cousin Jasper is too new to his post, Tyland Lannister was happily married to a Reyne and, while she would give her right arm to fuck Criston Cole, the Kingsguard were sworn for life and chances are he will end up fucking the queen the moment Viserys croaks.

Which left only two men.

The Queen’s brother, heir to nothing but some meager holdings and also said man’s father.

But Ser Otto had not been in his rooms and his staff too difficult to bribe which resulted in this change to her plans.

Come morning she will be betrothed to Ser Gwayne Hightower and plenty of red-haired babes will stand between her and her goodbrother soon after.

“I heard rumors of your promiscuity, but never heard the part where you chase your victims, Lady Jena.” Gwayne enters his room to find her in a half-laced kirtle on his bed.

“Then it is your lucky day, Ser.” The dark-haired woman plays up her seductive nature as he makes to leave only to find the door locked from the outside, just as she had paid his manservant and guards to do.

“Night, you mean.” The red-haired knight groans when he finds himself too high up in the tower to successfully climb down from it. “I will not fuck you, but I will not let you sleep in my bed.”

“And I will not leave this bed, you may put your sword between us if you fear I will steal your virtue.” She moves to the side and pats the place where she expects her soon-to-be husband to sleep.

For the crime of fucking some of her father’s creditors to keep herself alive and fed, she has been branded a whore. As if the world wasn’t filled with women who had to fuck a man they didn’t want to stay alive, or in the Queen’s case, on their father’s orders.

He will forgive her and marry her; he is known for the chivalry his father pretends to have.

And now because she will not marry Byron and suffer under him like she suffered his elder brother and her own father, she has done to Gwayne what some men do to gain a wife.

“Why are you doing this?” Gwayne asks as he undressed behind a screen as if a naked man were something unknown to her.

“I need a husband who is well-connected enough to keep Byron from claiming me and Mistwood.” The Stormlander does not beat around the bush, her prey is captured, and the trap shut too tight to prevent escape. “Your father would not wish to lose the chance of gaining a real inheritance for you as well as a foothold in the Stormlands if the offer presented itself.”

“Then why not seduce him?” the red-haired man pulls on a cotton nightshirt over his head now having completely tossed away his court clothes.

“I tried; his room is too closely guarded.” Jena’s answer results in stifled mirth.

“So, you consoled yourself with trapping me?” he asks, and she answered with a yes.

“Upon reflection, I realized I needed to change my course if I wanted to succeed. While it is impractical to wed a man too old to manipulate and too young to die of perceived natural causes—” Jena explains her schemes inner working.

“Perceived natural causes?” he laughs knowing how easily it came to her to admit she’d kill her husband the moment he became a burden.

“He has been removed once; the second time will include the removal of his soul from his mortal body. Most bet it will be Daemon Targaryen who does it, others think your sister might dine privately with Lord Larys again and make him Hand.” The dark-haired lady states the obvious. As good at hiding as the Green Queen is, she forgets the Master of Whisperers was publicly seen entering her chamber and in a fortnight his father and brother were gone along with Harrenhal’s century long repairs.

Gods, Jena loathes when people deny their own capacity for evil. Alicent Hightower may claim innocence all she wants, but no one who plays these sorts of games lasts a single round without blooding their hands directly or indirectly.

Jena should know, one sexual favor three years ago paid for the poison in her husband’s drinking horn and soon enough it will be Byron’s turn. If her dear goodsister wishes, it could go into King Viserys’ favorite goblet and his daughter’s wedding wine.

“I never resort to tricks like this, when I want to fuck a man all I have to do is look at him and he will cross mountains and oceans to find my bed.” She holds his gaze to show her boast holds grains of truth.

No matter how many prayers are held, and Seven-Pointed Stars appear, a cunt opened more doors than a chest full of gold dragons. Something Ser Otto confirmed when he sent four- and ten-year-old Alicent to Viserys’ bed almost six and ten years ago.

“Then why not seduce me that way? You were quite impressive at eye fucking me during yesterday’s service at the Sept.” the Knight asks finally giving up and laying on the bed with her.

“Byron’s petitioning the King for my hand tomorrow. Killed his wife for the occasion and everything, I cannot afford to have the Council rule the way they did back then.” This interrogation was not what she had planned, but she supposed Gwayne is not the type to rush into the battle without a strategy. “Trust me, I would have had you on your back by the next service if the situation allowed it.”

“You are a bold one, but I do not believe your appeal is that powerful, Lady Hightower.” He turns on his side and takes in the sight of her finally getting to the part she wanted: the part where they fuck.

“Shall we put it to the test, Lord Mertyns?”

----

[fan-goddess]

Aemond’s wife has hurt her shoulder and the Maesters have recommended a massage. Aemond returns to their chambers to find his wife being massaged by a pretty maid. He sits watching them and they put on a show for him, before they have a threesome (although the maid is dismissed at the end, as they only want to cum together).

Author Note: Hope you enjoy this! It’s my first request and I really hope I do it justice! :)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: NSFW under the cut, M/F/F threesome, jealous and impatient Aemond, pretty much exhibitionism, little bit of masochism if you squint, kind of power play,

~~~~~

“It was so embarrassing Laela! I am Aemond Targaryens wife! And yet I fall off his dragon like an absolute idiot!” You complain to your personal handmaiden who currently massaging your aching shoulder. Laela had always been loyal to you. She’d been brought with you to kingslanding ever since the announcement of your betrothal to Aemond had happened three years ago. Now she has become a good personal friend as well as your handmaiden.

Normally Aemond would’ve been with you, more than happy to soothe any of your injuries no matter how big or small. Yet Aemond had been summoned for training with Ser Criston with no excuses allowed. Even if it was to help massage his wife. Though he still escorted you to the maesters, where you needed to retell the embarrassing tale of how you hurt yourself.

“Tis fine my lady. Not all of us can master the art of riding a dragon like the Targaryens can.” Laela reassures as she rubs your shoulder. The maester had told you that supposedly it would help with the pain. Though It’s strange, as the more Laela rubs at your shoulder, the more you begin to become slowly more and more aroused as she touches your shoulders somehow both delicately yet also firmly.

Maybe it’s due to the small amount of milk of the poppy the maester gave you? Or maybe it’s because at that moment you just can’t help yourself from admiring Laelas beautiful smile and gorgeous green eyes. Maybe she feels it too? As her eyes seem to drift from your eyes, to your shoulder which she has stopped massaging, to your lips.

As the two of you stared at each other, and your lips came closer and closer to each other and your shoulder pain long forgotten, Aemond had stalked into the room and was watching the two of you with a gaze only he could have.

~~~~~

When Aemond came to his and your chambers to check in on you after finishing his training with ser Criston, he most certainly didn’t expect to see this.

His oh so precious wife, the one he’d do absolutely anything for, being so close to another woman holding the same look she has when the two would couple together.

“My my what do we have here ñuha dōna?” He stalks to his wife carefully. Smiling when you jerk away from the lady, recognising her as one of your long term handmaiden.

“A-Aemond I-“

“You do not need to speak ñuha dōna. If this is what you find pleasing then who I am to deny you that. Carry on…” He goes to a chair and sits in it. Positioning it so he could watch the two of you as you held each other.

The wary look the two of you hold brings annoyance to him. “This is no trick my darling wife. I meant every word I said. Now continue at once.” His voice drips in dominance as he commands you.

~~~~~

You look to Laela, the arousal you previously held still lingering. She’s nervous, you can tell. So you take the leadership role and follow your husbands demand by taking Laelas lips with your own.

She moans in your mouth just as you do in hers. Her lips taste of sweet honey, and they’re so soft it’s like kissing a cloud. Your hands go to wrap themselves in her hair as she moves closer to you in your lap and whines almost pitifully as the two of you kiss.

You must confess that this isn’t the first time you have been with a woman intimately, although you must confess that this is the first time you’ve done it was a woman you knew.

“Please my lady!” Laela moans as you gently bite on her lip. You look over to Aemond who still sits in the chair watching to see what he thinks. Even when he is not touching you Aemond still rules your body.

Aemond looks to you in approval and nods his head to show to you that he is okay with this.

You feel Laela place herself in your lap as the two of you kiss, focusing on the feel of her warmth that practically envelopes the two of you. You break it for a moment, “It’s time for us to strip now. Let us give my husband a good show while we can…” You whisper in her ear, relishing in the way they seem to turn red with blush.

You like the way her cheeks blush too, and the way her movements become almost shy as she releases a tie on her plain servent dress. The only thing she is now wearing is her underclothes. “Help undress your princess Laela,” You demand as you slightly turn yourself so she can undo your own dress.

As she does this you can hear Aemond groan from his chair. Though you don’t turn to give him the satisfaction of your curiosity. Instead you turn your attention to Laela and enjoy the short period of dominance you are able to provide her with.

It seems Aemond is not satisfied with your small show, if you can even call it that, as he abandons his chair and strips as he stalks towards your bed. “You will fuck yourself on my cock,” He demands, looking unashamedly at your nude form. “Any you…” He looks at Laela intensely, although he makes sure not to let his eyes wander. “You will suck on my wife’s clit as she rides me.”

All three of you move to your demanded positions. Aemond is now lying down waiting for you to lower yourself onto him and Laela is looking up at you expectantly and in awe.

You slowly lower yourself, even after all those nights of fucking your husband his size is still something that surprises you, and moan as you feel him reach that special spot in you when you get him all the way inside. You let out a high pitch moan though when Laela gives no hesitation in sucking on your clit. Her warm mouth providing a head dizzying feeling while Aemond is still so deep inside.

You begin to rock yourself slowly on Aemond, not wishing to lose the feeling of both people providing you such pleasure.

“You can go faster dear wife… it’s your pleasure we are focusing on for now…” He grunts. You follow Aemonds advice, slowly now lifting yourself from his cock till he’s half out of you only to drop yourself back on him. Practically impaling yourself on him.

Laela seems to abandon of mouthing at your aching cunt, and instead uses her fingers instead to rub small circles on your clit and her mouth to suck at your delicate breasts, leaving small marks in her wake.

The feeling of Laelas mouth brings pleasure to you which you now so desperately wish to reciprocate with her. You bring one of your hands which isn’t gripping on Aemonds thighs to Laelas own aching cunt, and start to mimic Laelas movements. She begins to moan in time with yourself, but you capture her lips with your own. The taste of honey flooding your senses.

You all find a good pace to settle. Aemond finds pleasure in gripping your hips and thrusting up, watching intently your arse at it ripples at the skin slapping. You find pleasure in Aemonds thrusts and Laelas touchings. Laela is seems is getting less pleasure than the both of you, as she is merely getting stimulated by the touches you provide her. Though she is not the main receiver, you are.

———

Aemond can feel you clenching around him tightly, bringing to his attention his own orgasm which he only now realises is soon approaching.

He’s forgotten about the pretty handmaiden, only being reminded when he hears a muffled high pitch moan echo in the chambers. “Leave us!” He demands through a moan as you clench tighter on his aching cock. He can see the woman halting in her movements from where he can see her. He has no idea if the woman had cummed, though he couldn’t care about it even if he tried. “I will be the only person to bear witness to my wife cumming tonight now leave us!” He demands as he continues to thrust more feverishly. Though he hears some movements and eventually a small murmur, before their chambers door is opened and closed.

“That was mean Aemond…” He hears you moan. “She didn’t even get to cum yet. I think she was close too…” Aemond stops thrusting so he can turn position you to a more, intimate angle. Now your looking up at him with glazed eyes which makes him all the less guilty when he thrusts himself back into your fiery heat.

He takes his time to release the strap on his eyepatch, allowing you to see his full self. Although it seems you’ve become greedy on his cock, as you pitifully whine for more when he begins to minimally thrust into you after throwing the patch on the bedside table. “Be a good girl now ñuha dōna…” he whispers as he begins to quicken his pace to a more similar pace to the one he was using previously. “Or I can very easily stop fucking you, leaving you all wanting and needy for me.”

He grins as you whine, though it’s soon wiped from his face when you clench particularly hard on him and his groans echo in the chamber.

His grin though returns when you merely moan and let out short swears of pleasure. He wraps a hand around your hair and jolts your head up to him, kissing you fiercely and swallowing your pathetic mewls when he speeds up. “sȳz riña… skoros iā sȳz riña ao iksis…” he moans.

His peak soon hits him when he feels you gush and squeeze oh so tightly around him. A low groan echoing in the chambers as releases deep inside you and slumps over your sweat covered body.

“Maybe we should request for Laela to join us for another round?” You slyly suggest with a smile, cupping his unmasked face softly.

“And let her see how ethereal and beautiful my glorious wife is when she cums? Not a chance ñuha dōna. She got to see you all those years before we were betrothed. Now it’s my turn to see all of you...” He says, gripping your cheek to bring you in for another kiss as he can feel himself harden once more.

[bellarkeselection]

Kingslayer Prisoner pt 2

Part 1 - read first please

Jaime attempts to defend Y/n Tully to her uncle Brynden and they share a moment later

My uncle and Jaime still have swords pressed up against one another. Holding my hands above my head eyeing the two older lords who were seconds from fighting one another. Jaime lowered his sword offering me his right arm so I could grab it and he helped me to stand behind him with his sword raised in defense. “Blackfish, are you really so stubborn to fight with your pride that you would kill your own family. Even though she never had any affair with me?"

"I sent her to gather Intel and recuse her brother and she came back with nothing. And I can see it in her eyes. She's been drawn in by the misleading lion glow!" My uncle raised his sword up to Jaime’s chest with a growl.

Shifting my gaze up to Jaime’s he didn't dare remove his focus from my uncle. I moved one hand forward, gripping his armor of his forearms. "Uncle, believe me when I say this. I don't have any intention of betraying our family to be with him. I am still a Tully born and I live our vow everyday. Family, duty, honor."

“And yet you think that you could convince him to return your brother. His family has done nothing but tear the houses apart. His sister can’t stand not having any power over everyone and everything. Why do you think he is here now?” My uncle snarled through his teeth.

Jaime started to say something. “House Frey just wants the house they were degreed to get. I don’t see it necessary to make men die when I am offering you to just abandon the castle and go somewhere else.”

"This is my family home, Kingslayer. Tell me would you're late father Tywin let someone invade Casterly Rock hmm." The Blackfish got no reply to his question giving him the answer he already knew where he turned on his heels to leave. "No I didn't think so. When you wish to challenge me into a fight let me have one last look at my nephew before you kill him."

Pushing my way past Jaime and against his better judgment, I managed to pick up my sword that I had dropped on the ground when the guards threw me down at my uncles feet. "So family only means something if they are willing to do whatever it takes to defend their house. And if they don't want to fight, you are calling them a traitor like Jofferey did to Ned Stark."

"The only one I consider calling a traitor is you, Y/n. You see, I had you followed by another spy of this family, and they caught a glimpse of you kissing the Kingslayer. So yes, I name you a traitor against your own house from this day until the day I die." My uncle drew his sword over his shoulder about to swing at me once more until Jaime moves in front of me and takes a slice through his armor.

He fell onto a knee before my uncle retreated back into the castle, sending me a half guilty look for what he had done. Wrapping my arms around the lion soldier, I did my best to help him back in his tent and through the campground they had created. An old Maester came in the moment I got Jaime seated on the bed. "I should...uh have you.. stitched in a moment, ser Jaime."

"Uh I'm not so sure you're hands are that steady, grand Maester. I mean no offense by it." I stuttered eyeing the elderly man seeing him struggling to even put the thred through the needle because of how badly his hands were shaking.

The elderly man tried to assure me. "Ah not to worry my lady. I...oh...I have much practice at this."

"Grand Maester, I would prefer you leave the sticking to Lady Tully here. I know Edmure had some wounds on him that I request you take care of." Jaime glanced at the elderly man before he set his tools down for me leaving us with a bow to the commander of the Kingsguard.

Slowly moving in front of the golden lion, I couldn't shake the uneasy question weighing down in the pit of my stomach. "Ser Jaime, I - uh have to ask. But why did you jump in front of my uncles sword and take a scratch meant for me?"

"Because, Y/n... you don't look at me like everyone else does. You don't give me the look that I've seen for 17 years. You don't see me as an oathbreaker. And I don't see you as a traitor like your uncle does at this very moment." Jaime reached for with his real hand gently taking my hand in his with his green eyes pouring into mine so strong and yet so softly too.

I moved my free hand to pull his shirt sleeve up so I could fix the wound, but his words took over all my concentration at the moment. Squeezing his hand in mine I was truly at a loss for words. "I...I don't know what to say, Jaime...or what should I do?"

"Tell me whether or not our short kiss the night I took you hostage meant nothing. That you didn't feel what I did." He blurted out, sending me that cheeky smile, but it dropped when he met my gaze, becoming all serious about his next choice of words. "Or rather tell me if I'm sitting here trying to get this out and sounding like an idiot." I gulped completely in awe and utterly terrified of what to say next to the famous Jaime Lannister.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - @makeshift-prime @rosie-posie08 @lover-of-books-and-tea

- Part 3 anyone??? 😉

[themockingpoint]

“Jon is not a Targaryen, he’s a Stark! The Targaryen’s haven’t done anything for Jon!”

Oh yeah totally. No Targaryen has done anything for Jon.

They had pulled him out this morning, after four days in the ice, locked up in a cell five by five by five, too low for him to stand, too tight for him to stretch out on his back. The stewards had long ago discovered that food and meat kept longer in the icy storerooms carved from the base of the Wall . . . but prisoners did not. "You will die in here, Lord Snow," Ser Alliser had said just before he closed the heavy wooden door, and Jon had believed it. But this morning they had come and pulled him out again, and marched him cramped and shivering back to the King's Tower, to stand before jowly Janos Slynt once more

"That old maester says I cannot hang you," Slynt declared. "He has written Cotter Pyke, and even had the bloody gall to show me the letter. He says you are no turncloak."

Didn’t save his life.

Even after stumbling into his narrow bed, rest had not come easily. He knew what he would face today, and found himself tossing restlessly as he brooded on Maester Aemon's final words. "Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel," the old man had said, "the same counsel that I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time. He was three-and-thirty when the Great Council chose him to mount the Iron Throne. A man grown with sons of his own, yet in some ways still a boy. Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved. Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born." The old man felt Jon's face. "You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born."

Didn’t give him deeply personal advice that he only gave to his brother. Advice Jon constantly thinks of

He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest.

Jon didn’t think of them when he was thinking of some of the most important things in his life.

Yeah no… nothing.

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 45 CATELYN VI (pages 587-598)

Cat and Brienne remain in Riverrun while Edmure heads out to battle. They get to see his very effective Riverrun Defense System in operation.

-

Brienne asked," What should we do now, my lady?" "Our duty." Catelyn's face was drawn as she started across the yard. I have always done my duty, she thought. Perhaps that was why her lord father had always cherished her the best of all his children. Her two older brothers died in infancy, so she had been son as well as daughter to Lord Hoster until Edmure was born. Then her mother had died and her father had told her that she must be the lady of Riverrun now, and she had done that too. And when Lord Hoster promised her to Brandon Stark, she had thanked him for making her such a splendid match.

I feel like this explains so much about Cat. How shackled she's been by duty to her family, how deeply ingrained in her it is. Like I feel like she has a natural tendency towards the duty and loyalty and care, or she would have cracked under the pressure, but oh what pressure that would have been, and one she can never escape given the shape of the society she lives in.

"Did you see my girls? Are they treated well?" Ser Cleos hesitated. "I... yes, they seemed..." He is fumbling for a lie, Catelyn realized, but the wine has fuddled his wits. "Ser Cleos," she said cooly, "you forfeired the protection of your peace banner when your men played us false. Lie to me, and you'll hang from the walls beside them. Believe that. I shall ask you once more- did you see my daughters?" His brow was damp with sweat. "I saw Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a bit wan. Drawn, as it were." Sansa, but not Arya. That might mean anything. Arya had always been harder to tame. Perhaps Cersei was reluctant to parade her in open court for fear of what she might say or do. They might have her locked safely out of sight. Or they might have killed her. Catelyn shoved the thought away.

Come on Cat, think, even Sansa's initial letter didn't mention her, not because she's dead, but because they never had her. I mean, yes, there are a lot of explanations and Cat can't know any of them for certain, but it's okay, Arya escaped she's... well I mean she's not safe safe, but she's not dead or in prison?

Stay hopeful!

"And the stars in the night were the eyes of his wolves , and the wind itself was their song."

It's a bop.

"There was always a singer at Evenfall Hall when I was a girl," Brienne said quietly. "I learned all the songs by heart." "Sansa did the same, though few singers ever cared to make the journey north to Winterfell." I told her there would be singers at the king's court, though. I told her she would hear music of all sorts, that her father could find some master to help her learn the high harp. Oh, gods forgive me...

*squints* hang on a sec, we'll be back to glare judgementally at Ned in a second. *pulls out GoT* ... yeah, no, that's what I thought. Arya I "Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells."

So I'm going to guess it's more a "Sansa's technically only an amateur musician by musician terms and she was promised a teacher to become a real pro" than a "teach her from scratch" type situation? Actually, if singers don't go to Winterfell often, who taught her? Mordane? Her mother? Was she self taught? Was it MVP Luwin?

Or GRRM forgot he wrote that line.

Right, now that's double checked, let's all glare judgmentally at Ned for a minute, cause don't think we didn't notice this promised harp teacher not materialise unlike Arya's 'dance' instructor.

... good job everyone! You may relax your brows.

...Oh the guilt Cat feels, someone hug this woman.

In the end the Mountain and a handful of his best had gained the west bank, but Edmure had thrown his reserve at them, and they had shattered and reeled away bloody and beaten. Ser Gregor himself had lost his horse and staggered back across the Red Fork bleeding from a dozen wounds while a rain of arrows and stones fell around him.

*twists a ribbon and adds some glitter glue before pinning it to Edmure's chest* I hereby present you with the Not As Martially Useless As You Could Have Been Award. Good job buddy!

I know, I'm very mean to him, he actually has a pretty good tactical and strategic mind from what we've seen this chapter, his preparations all up and down the rivers and his defenses of Riverrun which we saw last Cat Chapter. Unfortunately for him my strongest association for his character is the scene from the show where he fails to hit the funeral barge several times and Blackfish has to shove him out of the way and do it for him.

But if we are winning, why am I so afraid?

Because you've been paying attention. (a large amount of intuition is information you picked up without noticing being analyzed and pulling up flags in the background.)

Actually, now that it's come up, has anyone else noticed Cat's chapter have a strangely prophetic vibe to them? Like there's just a lot of lines and vibes that could be either coincidence of foreshadowing?

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Cersei IX (Chapter 39)

Pycelle's mouth opened and closed. "Your Grace must know, I did all that could be done for the poor man [Gyles Rosby]."

"As you did for Joffrey? And his father, my own beloved husband? Robert was as strong as any man in the Seven Kingdoms, yet you lost him to a boar. Oh, and let us not forget Jon Arryn. No doubt you would have killed Ned Stark as well, if I had let you keep him longer. Tell me, maester, was it at the Citadel that you learned to wring your hands and make excuses?"

Her voice made the old man flinch. "No man could have done more, Your Grace. I . . . I have always given leal service."

"When you counseled King Aerys to open his gates as my father's host approached, was that your notion of leal service?"

The audacity of this woman.

I have to respect it.

+.+.+

"You have been much in Lady Margaery's company of late."

"Yes. Yes, I . . . Queen Margaery has been most distraught about Ser Loras. I provide Her Grace with sleeping draughts and . . . other sorts of potions."

[...]

"I know who she is. What I want to know is why she has need of you. Is my good-daughter unwell?"

"Unwell?" The old man plucked at the thing he called a beard, that patched growth of thin white hair sprouting from the loose pink wattles under his chin. "N-not unwell, Your Grace, not as such. My oaths forbid me to divulge . . ."

"Your oaths will be of small comfort in the black cells," she warned him. "I'll hear the truth, or you'll wear chains."

Pycelle collapsed to his knees. "I beg you . . . I was your lord father's man, and a friend to you in the matter of Lord Arryn. I could not survive the dungeons, not again . . ."

"Why does Margaery send for you?"

"She desires . . . she . . . she . . ."

"Say it!"

He cringed. "Moon tea," he whispered. "Moon tea, for . . ."

"I know what moon tea is for." There it is.

For . . . her cousin, Cersei.

If I had to guess who, I would say Megga Tyrell. Elinor is the oldest cousin, and loves to flirt, but she's betrothed to Alyn Ambrose. Alla is notably shy and innocent.

Megga couldn't sing, but she was mad to be kissed. - Sansa II, ASOS

x

"King Joffrey has such beautiful lips," Megga gushed, oblivious - Sansa II, ASOS

x

Others come to pay court to her cousins. Elinor is promised to the Ambrose boy, but loves to flirt, and Megga has a new suitor every fortnight. Once she kissed a potboy in the kitchen. I have heard talk of her marrying Lady Bulwer's brother, but if Megga were to choose for herself, she would sooner have Mark Mullendore, I am certain. - Cersei VI, AFFC

You might recall, Mark Mullendore participated in the wager for Lady Brienne's maidenhead.

x

"Damn them, then," said Margaery. "Damn them all to seven hells. Alla is gentle and shy, how can they do this to her? And Megga . . . she laughs as loud as a dockside whore, I know, but inside she's still just a little girl. - Cersei X, AFFC

And Megga . . . dot, dot, dot.

In ASOS we learned Megga is Sansa's age, and not yet flowered, but I assume that status has changed. She's a child, but George has young girls doing all sorts of salacious things once they've bloomed.

+.+.+

"As to Lord Gyles, no doubt our Father Above will judge him justly. He left no children?"

"No children of his body, but there is a ward . . ."

". . . not of his blood." Cersei dismissed that annoyance with a flick of her hand. "Gyles knew of our dire need for gold. No doubt he told you of his wish to leave all his lands and wealth to Tommen." Rosby's gold would help refresh their coffers, and Rosby's lands and castle could be bestowed upon one of her own as a reward for leal service. Lord Waters, perhaps. Aurane had been hinting at his need for a seat; his lordship was only an empty honor without one. He had his eye on Dragonstone, Cersei knew, but there he aimed too high. Rosby would be more suitable to his birth and station.

"Lord Gyles loved His Grace with all his heart," Pycelle was saying, "but . . . his ward . . ."

Another mystery! Who is the Rosby ward?

He refused House Stokeworth hospitality.

"Uncomfortable," complained Falyse. "It rained most of the day. We thought to spend the night at Rosby, but that young ward of Lord Gyles refused us hospitality." - Cersei V, AFFC

He's ill-born.

She sniffed. "Mark my word, when Gyles dies that ill-born wretch will make off with his gold. He may even try and claim the lands and lordship, though by rights Rosby should come to us when Gyles passes. My lady mother was aunt to his second wife, third cousin to Gyles himself." - Cersei V, AFFC

He's not Gyles Rosby's blood.

"No children of his body, but there is a ward . . ."

". . . not of his blood." - Cersei IX, AFFC

Many have speculated it's Robb's former devoted squire, Olyvar Frey. Olyvar Frey is the brother of Roslin and Perwyn, The Good Freys.

Arguments supporting this:

Olyvar is related to Gyles Rosby through his mother, Bethany Rosby. Nobles are often fostered by the houses their mothers belonged to.

Olyvar was sent away on duty before the Red Wedding, in part because he remained extremely loyal to Robb. A Stark loyalist might not be too welcoming to a family that serves House Lannister.

"Ill-born wretch" doesn't necessary mean lowborn. It could mean Frey.

Counter-arguments:

Cersei states the ward isn't of Gyles Rosby's blood. (The ward might still have Rosby blood without being a direct descendent of Gyles Rosby. It's not clear.)

I have no opinion on this. If you have any thoughts or theories, I'd love to hear them.

+.+.+

Lady Merryweather closed the door behind him. "Moon tea," she said, as she turned back to the queen. "How foolish of her. Why would she do such a thing, take such a risk?"

She didn't, you fools.

+.+.+

"I'll do it," offered Osmund Kettleblack, with an easy grin. "Margaery's got a pretty little neck. A good sharp sword will go right through it."

"It would," said Taena, "but there is a Tyrell army at Storm's End and another at Maidenpool. They have sharp swords as well."

What do you mean another one at Maidenpool? That's Randyll Tarly's army!

Don't make this harder than it needs to be, George.

+.+.+

Kettleblack chewed on one end of his mustache. "We need to catch them during the deed."

"How? Qyburn has eyes on her day and night. Her serving men take my coin, but bring us only trifles. Yet no one has seen this lover. The ears outside her door hear singing, laughter, gossip, nothing of any use."

"Margaery is too shrewd to be caught so easily," said Lady Merryweather. "Her women are her castle walls. They sleep with her, dress her, pray with her, read with her, sew with her. When she is not hawking or riding she is playing come-into-my-castle with little Alysanne Bulwer. Whenever men are about, her septa will be with her, or her cousins."

What if - I know this sounds crazy, but hear me out - what if there's no lover, and that's why you have nothing despite all your efforts?

+.+.+

Lady Taena savored every bite. Not so Orton Merryweather, whose round face remained blotched and pale from broth to cheese. He drank heavily and kept stealing glances at the singer.

What is this about? Is he nervous because he knows what will happen to the singer?

Holy god, I'm as paranoid as Cersei.

+.+.+

"You have no other name?"

A hint of pink suffused his cheeks. "As a boy, I was called Wat. A fine name for a plowboy, less fitting for a singer."

Someone forgot to tell Whitesmile that.

Our aunt brought Whitesmile Wat from Lannisport, if you can believe it, so Ryman had to have a singer too. - Jaime V, AFFC

+.+.+

The Blue Bard's eyes were the same color as Robert's. For that alone, she hated him. "It is easy to see why you are Lady Margaery's favorite."

"Her Grace is kind. She says I give her pleasure."

"Oh, I'm certain of it. Might I see your lute?"

Lmao.

+.+.+

"Sweet and sad as love. Tell me, Wat . . . the first time you took Margaery to bed, was that before she wed my son, or after?"

For a moment he did not seem to understand. When he did, his eyes grew large. "Your Grace has been misinformed. I swear to you, I never—"

"Liar!" Cersei smashed the lute across the singer's face so hard the painted wood exploded into shards and splinters. "Lord Orton, summon my guards and take this creature to the dungeons."

We need visuals!

+.+.+

Even in the black cells, all they got from him were denials, prayers, and pleas for mercy. Before long, blood was streaming down his chin from all his broken teeth, and he wet his dark blue breeches three times over, yet still the man persisted in his lies. "Is it possible we have the wrong singer?" Cersei asked.

Noo, ya think?

+.+.+

Lord Qyburn ran a hand up the Blue Bard's chest. "Does she take your nipples in her mouth during your love play?" He took one between his thumb and forefinger, and twisted. "Some men enjoy that. Their nipples are as sensitive as a woman's." The razor flashed, the singer shrieked. On his chest a wet red eye wept blood. Cersei felt ill. Part of her wanted to close her eyes, to turn away, to make it stop. But she was the queen and this was treason. Lord Tywin would not have turned away.

At least she's not enjoying this?

Looking for some positives.

+.+.+

Cersei blamed Margaery Tyrell for this. If not for her, Wat might have lived a long and fruitful life, singing his little songs and bedding pig girls and crofter's daughters. Her scheming forced this on me. She has soiled me with her treachery.

+.+.+

By dawn the singer's high blue boots were full of blood, and he had told them how Margaery would fondle herself as she watched her cousins pleasuring him with their mouths. At other times he would sing for her whilst she sated her lusts with other lovers. "Who were they?" the queen demanded, and the wretched Wat named Ser Tallad the Tall, Lambert Turnberry, Jalabhar Xho, the Redwyne twins, Osney Kettleblack, Hugh Clifton, and the Knight of Flowers.

That displeased her. She dare not besmirch the name of the hero of Dragonstone. Besides, no one who knew Ser Loras would ever believe it. The Redwynes could not be a part of it either. Without the Arbor and its fleet, the realm could never hope to rid itself of this Euron Crow's Eye and his accursed ironmen.

[...]

"I might have . . . misremembered."

"Horas and Hobber had no part of this, did they?"

"No," he admitted. "Not them."

"As for Ser Loras, I am certain Margaery took pains to hide what she was doing from her brother."

"She did. I remember now. Once I had to hide under the bed when Ser Loras came to see her. He must never know, she said."

Yeah, this guy's story is totally going to hold up during a trial.

The plan is coming together perfectly.

+.+.+

Qyburn dropped the bloody razor into a pail of vinegar. "Margaery may wonder where her bard has gone."

"Singers come and go, they are infamous for it."

That depends, is George R. R. Martin writing the story?

+.+.+

"If it please you. That is all that I desire."

Liar. She knew what Taena desired. So be it. If the woman was besotted with her, that would help ensure that she and her husband remained loyal. In a world so full of treachery, that was worth a few kisses. She is no worse than most men. At least there is no danger of her ever getting me with child.

I have no doubt in my mind that Jaime will be the father of Cersei's next child, but that line set alarm bells ringing.

+.+.+

The two of them shared the bath together, with Cersei lying back in Taena's arms. 

Who says George isn't a romantic?

+.+.+

"Tommen must be spared the worst of this," she told the Myrish woman. "Margaery still takes him to the sept every day, so they can ask the gods to heal her brother." Ser Loras still clung to life, annoyingly. 

There's zero percent chance this won't turn into a big problem.

+.+.+

She even said a prayer before she crawled beneath her coverlet, beseeching the Mother for sweet dreams.

It proved a waste of breath; as ever, the gods were deaf. Cersei dreamt that she was down in the black cells once again, only this time it was her chained to the wall in place of the singer. She was naked, and blood dripped from the tips of her breasts where the Imp had torn off her nipples with his teeth. "Please," she begged, "please, not my children, do not harm my children." Tyrion only leered at her. He was naked too, covered with coarse hair that made him look more like a monkey than a man. "You shall see them crowned," he said, "and you shall see them die." Then he took her bleeding breast into his mouth and began to suck, and pain sawed through her like a hot knife.

In all fairness to Cersei, if I was having dreams like this, I'd be crazy too.

+.+.+

"The maegi." The words came tumbling out of her. She could still hear Melara Hetherspoon insisting that if they never spoke about the prophecies, they would not come true. She was not so silent in the well, though. She screamed and shouted. "Tyrion is the valonqar," she said. "Do you use that word in Myr? It's High Valyrian, it means little brother." She had asked Septa Saranella about the word, after Melara drowned.

Taena took her hand and stroked it. "This was a hateful woman, old and sick and ugly. You were young and beautiful, full of life and pride. She lived in Lannisport, you said, so she would have known of the dwarf and how he killed your lady mother. This creature dared not strike you, because of who you were, so she sought to wound you with her viper's tongue."

There it is. Kudos to @agentrouka-blog.

Cersei was young(er) and (more) beautiful.

+.+.+

"One son," said Lady Merryweather, "but you have another, sweet and strong, and no harm will ever come to him."

"Never, whilst I live."

That's the second time she's said something like this. Am I missing some sort of double meaning here?

As she watched the cats frolic about his feet, Cersei felt a little better. No harm will ever come to Tommen whilst I still live. - Cersei VIII, AFFC

+.+.+

The mother in her wanted only to protect him; the queen in her knew he must grow harder, or the Iron Throne was certain to devour him.

Wrong spikes.

+.+.+

She smoothed his hair back, the soft golden curls that reminded her so much of Joff. "Will you be spending the afternoon with your wife and her cousins?"

"Not today. She has to fast and purify herself, she said."

Fast and purify . . . oh, for Maiden's Day. It had been years since Cersei had been required to observe that particular holy day. Thrice wed, yet she still would have us believe she is a maid. Demure in white, the little queen would lead her hens to Baelor's Sept to light tall white candles at the Maiden's feet and hang parchment garlands about her holy neck. A few of her hens, at least. On Maiden's Day widows, mothers, and whores alike were barred from the septs, along with men, lest they profane the sacred songs of innocence. Only virgin maids could . . .

How has this never come up in a Sansa chapter?

+.+.+

"Shame?" Osney sounded baffled. "I told Osmund, Margaery just teases. She never lets me do any more than . . ."

"It is chivalrous of you to protect her," Cersei broke in, "but you are too good a knight to go on living with your crime. No, you must take yourself to the Great Sept of Baelor this very night and speak with the High Septon. When a man's sins are so black, only His High Holiness himself can save him from hell's torments. Tell him how you bedded Margaery and her cousins."

Osney blinked. "What, the cousins too?"

"Megga and Elinor," she decided, "never Alla." That little detail would make the whole story more plausible. 

Brilliant. You're playing 4D chess now.

+.+.+

The queen was taken aback. The last thing she expected was piety from a Kettleblack. "Are you refusing to obey me?"

"No." Osney touched her golden hair. "The thing is, the best lies have some truth in 'em . . . to give 'em flavor, as it were. And you want me to go tell how I fucked a queen . . ."

[...]

"We waited long enough." He thrust his fingers inside the bodice of her gown and yanked, and the silk parted with a ripping sound so loud that Cersei was afraid that half of the Red Keep must have heard it. "Take off the rest before I tear that too," he said. "You can keep the crown on. I like you in the crown."

I doubt that's a coincidence.

<- Jaime VI, AFFC

On her head a circlet of hammered bronze sat askew, graven with runes and ringed with small black swords.

[...]

She gave a shake of her ample hips. "I'm the queen o' whores."

No, Jaime thought, my sweet sister holds that title too.

Final thoughts:

I'm convinced a dude with a guitar stole George's girl once.

-> return to menu <-

[esther-dot]

Torrehn Stark bent the knee to Aegon Targ near Trident. Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar at the battle of Trident. Joffery was attacked by Nymeria near Trident and Arya threw his sword into river. Dany dreamed herself in position of Rhaegar at battle of Trident and burning the usurpers. The Trident is basically showing feud between Starks and Dany. Also Joffery, a blonde incest prince, was singing to stark girl(Sansa) and talking about Rhaegar and the other stark girl defeated him.

I don't think I ever read meta on it, but there was a supposition that the Jon (Stark) v Dany (Targ) thing would end at the Trident because of the emphasis on it throughout the story. AGOT especially seemed to point to that because of how frequently it was referenced. We even have Dany's view of it

Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship's black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King's Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper's dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar's heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. (AGOT, Daenerys I)

contrasted with Jon's view in their very first chapters:

Next had come King Robert himself, with Lady Stark on his arm. The king was a great disappointment to Jon. His father had talked of him often: the peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Jon saw only a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. He walked like a man half in his cups. (AGOT, Jon I)

It really does seem like a big reason for it is to make some connections between Dany/the Starks because this part:

"I hit him," she said, wonder in her voice. Now that it was over, it seemed like some strange dream that she had dreamed. "Ser Jorah, do you think … he'll be so angry when he gets back …" She shivered. "I woke the dragon, didn't I?"

Ser Jorah snorted. "Can you wake the dead, girl? Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon, and he died on the Trident. Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake."

His blunt words startled her. It seemed as though all the things she had always believed were suddenly called into question. "You … you swore him your sword …" (AGOT, Daenerys III)

Makes me immediately think about Jon, who is Rhaegar’s son, a dragon, and he will rise from the dead, and will likely be the one to kill Dany, and maybe Martin will do that at the Trident. 

I had never really thought about how much the Trident comes up in Dany's chapters before. It’s a lot, and it’s a funny thing because even though she wasn’t there, Martin writes it as a personally meaningful, traumatizing event. That’s pretty fascinating when we think that Sansa (and Arya) are the ones who did experience something that haunts them there. That reminds me of how Dany has this idea of the injustice done to her family because she doesn’t truly know what happened (she has to learn from second hand sources) whereas the Starks know what happened to theirs. Dany’s father’s death saved countless lives, he was an unjust king who deserved death, but Arya and Sansa had to watch their beloved father die unjustly before them.

Oh shoot. This is a similar to how Dany romanticizes Rhaegar (because she didn’t know him) whereas the Starks knew Robb. Rhaegar died fighting for his father who needed to be removed from the throne (something it sounds like even he knew), whereas Robb was fighting for their father/freedom against an unjust king.

I’ve always thought of this story as having a major Stark v Lannister issue to resolve but I’m so caught up in the immediate context, but historically, we have the Stark v Targ issue, not just with Robert’s Rebellion, but with the initial conquering of Westeros, and since Dany is so far away/uninvolved with Westeros rn, this stuff is what will make the endgame of Jon/the Starks defeating her meaningful. It really will feel like reliving history, huh?

So many ways to look at this, lots and lots of intersections. I’ll have to pay more attention to the Trident stuff when reading from now on, anon.

Thank you for the message!

[writingsofwesteros]

Can you do Harwin strong x Targaryen reader where they have three sons and he’s teaching them how to fight where one of her ladies in waiting rushes towards them to let him know his wife is in labor and she gives birth to their first daughter. Just lots off fluff with daddy Harwin and just have a loving family moment.

AN:Hi, I hope you like it x

“Keep your shield up.” Harwin softly chastised his youngest boy whose pout was his only answer. The other two sons chuckled together as they fought each other. Harwin’s eyes looked up to see the King watching. He was thankful of the King’s blessing of the marriage and he knew the sight of his grandchildren made him happy.

Harwin himself has never been so happy, he thought to himself when picking up his youngest. “We shall have a rest then.” His little one hummed and burrowed into his neck as he moved around the courtyard and placed the equipment away. “You always make us train.” His eldest son called to him.

Harwin could only chuckle loudly. “I thought you enjoyed this.” He teased the lad who only huffed in response. The sight warmed his heart as he settled his youngest on top of the crate. “You are going to be a big brother soon.” Harwin hummed. “Will it be another brother?” His middle boy spoke out.

“You don’t want another brother?” Harwin teased as he collected the swords from the two sons as well. “I don’t think so.” His youngest mumbled and he turned his head to pick up the cheeky boy. “We shall see. It’s in the hands of the Gods.” Harwin hummed and settled the youngest on his lap.

He would be happy with a healthy babe and wife. Of course, the idea of a little girl had his heart warming but it was out of his hands. “You have to remember to be gentle with the babe.” Harwin whispered before placing his head gently against his oldest. “You are always a good lad.” He praised his boy.

Harwin would have stayed there forever with them but the sounds of rushing feet had his attention. “Ser..” A lady of your household came running over; picking up her skirts as she did. “The labour has begun.” The words had Harwin stalling for only a moment before he realised what was happening.

“Mama will be okay?” His oldest whispered up at Harwin as he guided the boys quickly into their home. “Of course.” Harwin promised; not truly knowing himself but he couldn’t have his sons worried. The ladies of the household were able to take the boys from him whilst he continued walking towards the birthing room.

He looked back over his shoulder once more as his son’s worried faces locked on his before they were guided away. Your screams of pain echoed around the halls as Harwin forced himself to move. You deserved to have him with you; somebody with you as he had done throughout all the labours.

The sight that greeted him had fear and love rushing through him all at once. You were so beautiful, even like this. “Harwin.” You whispered out; able to smile even in this situation as your hands gripped the sheets. The mere sight of him was enough for a calmness to spread over you. 

“I’m here.” The Knight promised you as he slowly moved to sit beside you. His hands gently cupped your face as your head rested on his own. You hummed through the pain as soft whimpers escaped you. “You are doing so well, my love.” Harwin whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

His words were usually such comfort but now you could hardly breath through the pain. Your hand tightened on his and you completely missed his flash of pain coming over his face. You also missed the chuckle escaping your midwife as they ordered you to push over and over again. 

You were about to scream at them when Harwin gently brought you into his chest. He could always read you so well. “So close now.” He whispered and brought his larger hand up and down your back. You softly panted and grabbed at his tunic; your knuckles nearly white as you whimpered out again and again.

“Oh gods..” You cried out and this time the tears did fall and finally the child was free of you. Or you were free of the child; you weren’t sure anymore. Your head fell back onto the comfortably pillows behind you whilst Harwin continued to hold your hand. The child would be cleaned and given to them soon enough.

He needed to look after you. You hummed and burrowed into his neck as his calming scent washed over you. “Here you go, my Princess.” The midwife smiled as she brought the healthy, bouncing baby girl into your arms. “A girl?” You whispered out with your eyes so wide and excited. 

“A girl?” Harwin whispered in shock; his heart warming at the mere idea. Those dark eyes of his warmed as he peeked over your shoulder. The baby girl cuddled into the blanket keeping her warm. “She’s beautiful.” The Knight whispered and his larger hand moved to gently stroke her cheek.

You smiled lovingly as you watched the pair. The dynamic would shift with a baby girl in the mix but Harwin was already so sweet. You allowed him to take her from your hold and brought the baby closer. “I don’t think there is anyone more protected than you.” Harwin whispered to his daughter.

You couldn’t help but agree with him as a soft giggle escaped you. It wasn’t long that you could heal when the thundering footsteps of your boys came into the room. You smiled your thanks and dismissed the ladies so your family could have some privacy. “Hello boys.” You hummed and moved to sit up.

They gently crowded onto the bed after having a lot of practice with this. You held your arms out for them to move as your youngest cuddled into your side. “Another brother?” Your son hummed and you smirked at the disappointment in his face. Harwin locked eyes with you lovingly as his own smile only widened. 

“No…a girl this time.” You announced and the soft commotion the boys made had you giggling. You watched Harwin gently pat the boys away when they crowded. “Careful lads.” He hummed and moved to kneel down for them to see. “She’s precious.” Your youngest whispered out and you could only melt.

“Yes, she is.” Harwin hummed as you sleepily rested your head once more. Your fingers moved into the curls of your middle son. The pain was finally leaving you and all that you were left with was the happiness of the moment. Such blessings you had been given, you thought as the boys whispered together.

[kellyvela]

GRRM has said in interviews that he’s purposely played with the romantic tension between the hound and Sansa. What do you think the endgame purpose of the unkiss and that playing is meant to be for?

This is all what he said about the matter in question so far:

The Hound and Sansa, romantic or platonic? It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you!

JUNE 24, 1999 THE HOUND AND SANSA

Moreta12: I understand, I’ve heard your opinion on that. In ACOK, it seems that the relationship between the Hound and Sansa had romantic undertones. Is that true?

GeoRR: Well, read the book and decide for yourself.

Moreta12: I’ve read the book and I’ve debated those particular scenes with a few others. Half say that it’s romantic and half say it’s platonic. I’ve taken the romantic stance.

GeoRR:  It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you

Moreta12:Yes, but it seem like evidence points towards romantic undertones. Will the Hound appear later?

GeoRR: Yes, the Hound will be in STORM OF SWORDS. In fact, I just finished writing a big scene with him.

[Source]

When will Sansa be “legal”?  **ºª@”¡¿x<%$!&?

OCTOBER 05, 1999 AGE OF SEXUAL RELATIONS IN WESTEROS

The nature of the relationship between Sandor and Sansa has been a hot topic on Revanshe’s board. Sansa’s youth has been one focus of the discussion. What is the general Westerosi view as to romantic or sexual relationships involving a girl of Sansa’s age and level of physical maturity?

A boy is Westeros is considered to be a “man grown” at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us.

However, for girls, the first flowering is also very significant… and in older traditions, a girl who has flowered is a woman, fit for both wedding and bedding.

A girl who has flowered, but not yet attained her sixteenth name day, is in a somewhat ambigious position: part child, part woman. A “maid,” in other words. Fertile but innocent, beloved of the singers.

In the “general Westerosi view,” well, girls may well be wed before their first flowerings, for political reasons, but it would considered perverse to bed them. And such early weddings, even without sex, remain rare. Generally weddings are postponed until the bride has passed from girlhood to maidenhood.

Maidens may be wedded and bedded… however, even there, many husbands will wait until the bride is fifteen or sixteen before sleeping with them. Very young mothers tend to have significantly higher rates of death in childbirth, which the maesters will have noted.

As in the real Middle Ages, highborn girls tend to flower significantly earlier than those of lower birth. Probably a matter of nutrition. As a result, they also tend to marry earlier, and to bear children earlier. There are plenty of exceptions.

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator

JUNE 26, 2001 SF, TARGARYENS, VALYRIA, SANSA, MARTELLS, AND MORE

[GRRM is asked about Sansa misremembering the name of Joffrey’s sword.]

The Lion’s Paw / Lion’s Tooth business (*), on the other hand, is intentional. A small touch of the unreliable narrator. I was trying to establish that the memories of my viewpoint characters are not infallible. Sansa is simply remembering it wrong. A very minor thing (you are the only one to catch it to date), but it was meant to set the stage for a much more important lapse in memory. You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom… but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it’s a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on.

[Source]

(*) It was Arya who misremembered the name of Joffrey’s sword tho…

Unreliable Narrator 2.0

OCTOBER 05, 2002 SANSA’S MEMORY

[Note: This mail has been edited for brevity.]

… this is an inconsistency with ASoS more than an outright error. In ASoS, Sansa thinks that the Hound kissed her before leaving her room and King’s Landing. In ACoK, no kiss is mentioned in the scene, though Sansa did think that he was about to do so.

Well, not every inconsistency is a mistake, actually. Some are quite intentional. File this one under “unreliable narrator” and feel free to ponder its meaning

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 3.0

NOVEMBER 27, 2007 GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS

Here’s a really particular question (which I realize means it probably won’t get asked in a general interview): In A Storm of Swords, there is a chapter early on where Sansa is thinking back to the scene at the end of A Clash of Kings when The Hound came into her room during the battle. She thinks in the chapter about how he kissed her, but in the scene in A Clash of Kings, this actually didn’t happen. Was that a typo or something? —Valdora

GRRM: It’s not a typo. It is something! [Laughs] ”Unreliable narrator” is the key phrase there. The second scene is from Sansa’s thoughts. And what does that reveal about her psychologically? I try to be subtle about these things.

[Source]

Sansa may be dead but Alayne is alive

APRIL 15, 2008 FUTURE MEETINGS, POVS, ARYA’S ROLE, EASTERN LANDS, AND ASSASSINS

[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?]

Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone.

[Source]

A lot more dangerous than romantic

AUGUST 2, 2009 AS SER JORAH MORMONT…

weltraummuell: The Hound Oh please don’t cast an old guy for the Hound, his scenes with Sansa are so romantic and erotic, I couldn’t bear if it’d feel creepy all of a sudden. Well, that’s me making demands. LOL

GRRM: Re: The Hound Old guy? No, but… the Hound is still a whole lot older than Sansa, and was never written as attractive… you know, those hideous burns and all that… he’s a lot more dangerous than he is romantic.

kestrana: The Hound Yeah its a “girl always wants the bad boy” kind of thing although Sansa seems to pull something else out of him. It feels so wrong sometimes but I want to see them together again tee hee.

weltraummuell: The Hound Hehe, George, maybe you didn’t intend it, but he turned out to be a very erotic character to female readers. Especially since he’s mutilated and dangerous. Makes him unpredictable and vulnerable which is the most explosive aphrodisiac for a girl’s fantasy. ;)

weltraummuell: The Hound And I know from discussions on other board other women feel just the same about Sandor. He’s an absolute favourite with the ladies!

halfbloodmalfoy: The Hound LOL, you’re such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

GRRM: The Hound But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for

JUNE 22, 2012 SWORD & LASER VIDEO PODCAST

GRRM: I am sometimes surprised by the reactions, of women in particular, to some of the villains. The number of women over the years who have written to me that their favorite characters are Jaime Lannister or Sandor Clegane [the Hound] or Theon Greyjoy… All of these are deeply troubled individuals with some very dark sides, who have done some very dark things. Nonetheless, they do draw this response, and quite heavily, I think, in the case of some of them, from my female readers in particular.

Veronica Belmont: I’m a big fan of the Hound, myself, actually.

Tom Merritt: Of Sandor? Really?

Veronica Belmont: Yeah, the Hound… Maybe it’s not because I feel any compassion towards them, I’m not really sure what the attraction is. Ah, I’m not going to call it attraction, actually. Let’s just say it’s a fascination, perhaps.

GRRM: [Chuckles] Well, I mean, fascination is one thing, but some of these letters indicate that there really is like a romantic attraction going on there. And I do know there’s all these people out there who are, as they call themselves, the “San/San” fans, who want to see Sandor and Sansa get together at the end. So that’s interesting, too.

Tom Merritt: The TV show has sort of played with that a little, and probably stoked those fires.

GRRM: Oh, sure. And I’ve played with it in the books. There’s something there, but it’s still interesting to see how many people have responded to it.

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for 2.0

JUNE 23, 2015 GRRM Q&A AT THE SCIENCE FICTION BOOKSTORE IN STOCKHOLM

Question: “Is there any fan reactions that you have been surprised by, like is there a character that’s more popular than you thought or have people been shocked by something you didn’t think we would be shocked at?”

GRRM: “I’m reasonably certain what people will be shocked by. I knew that the Red Wedding would provoke a big reaction and it did. I was pretty confident that, you know, throwing Bran out the window and then killing Ned in the first book would get reactions, and indeed they did. All of those worked exactly the way it did to the extent that things that have surprised me, they tend to be smaller things. I guess I… Maybe I should not have, I don’t know. How do I phrase this without getting myself in terrible trouble… I guess I don’t understand women, but I was definitely, you know, way back when, surprised by the number of women who reacted positively to characters like Theon and the Hound as dashing, romantic figures. The san/san kind of thing took me by surprise, I must admit, and even more so the women who, and there are some, who really like Theon. So that surprised me.”

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 4.0

DECEMBER 2016 ASKING GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ABOUT S@N/S@N

My question is regarding Sansa Stark. Her sexuality has evolved through every book and yet the memory that seems to stick the more with her in this regard is the night of the Blackwater. So I was wondering if you can expand on your view on what this is, since as before that night her interactions with Sandor Clegane weren’t really physical.

The night of the Blackwater, yes. Ahhh… Well, I’m not going to give you a straight answer on that hahaha… Uhmmm, but I would say that ahhh… you know a television show and a book each has its own strengths and weaknesses; there a re tools that are available to me as a novelist, that are not available to people doing a television show. And of course there are tools available to them, that are not available to a novelist, I mean they can lay in a soundtrack, they can do special effects, they can do amazing things that I can’t do, I just have words on paper. What can I do, well I can use things like the internal narrative, I can take you inside of territories… thoughts, which you can’t do in a TV show… Ahhh… You just have the words they speak, you see them from outside because the camera is external, while prose is internal, and I have the device known as “unreliable narrator”… Ahhh… Which again, they don’t have. So, think about those two aspects when you consider that night of the Blackwater.

[Source]

Do with it what you will.

[pumpkinmagekupo]

Another late one. I'm literally writing these on the day T_T

I like the idea that not all knights of the high houses would be good at dancing..I mean...they're knights.. swords first and all that.

Day 3: Touch/Dance

“No! Absolutely not.” Mizuki said defitanly, clinging to a chair like a petulant child “I can just get out of it. I cannot dance.” she clung with all her might as Edmont tried to reason with her. Haurchefant had returned to such an intriguing scene as a stewart tried to pry Mizuki from the chair but she was an immovable force, one with the chair.

“What happened?” Haurchefant asked quietly, appearing at his father’s side.

“Mizuki heard about the upcoming ball in her honour for all she has done for Ishgard and well-” Edmont presented the stubborn Xaela digging her heels into the floor. “She has been like this for the past bell.”

Haurchefant couldn’t help but laugh and he laughed loudly. “It is only a spot of dancing, what do you have to worry about?” he teased, Edmont cleared his throat.

“I recall you jumping out of a window to go play Knights rather than learning your social graces.” Edmont recalled, which caused Emmanellain and Mizuki to chuckle in response. Haurchefant felt his ears burn with embarrassment.

“Yes well I can dance somewhat better now.” he retorted “but not -'' his words fell silent in his mouth. There was one way to coercase Mizuki into dancing at the ball. “Ser Aymeric is renowned for dancing..” he saw Mizuki tense and looked away shyly, a smile tugging at his lips. She is ever weak to him. “Perhaps I should ask him to come assist you with-”

“No!” She screeched “no..it’s fine. I..can’t..I don’t need to dance.” she grumbled stubbornly. Haurchefant let his shoulders slump in faux defeat as he walked over to the orange haired Au Ra “you would prefer he dance with the other ladies?” He saw her trying to make herself appear smaller. “I know he would prefer to dance with you.” gingerly Haurchefant reached to touch her hand, slowly prying it from the chair “come now. I don’t think it is possible for you to dance worse than I or Estinien…” Mizuki’s head whipped up at him, her mouth ajar.

“Estinien can’t dance?” she questioned, poorly trying to hide her amusement.

“Two left feet.” He laughed, finally pulling Mizuki up onto her feet. “Now then.” Haurchefant looked towards Artoirel who sat at their piano looking bored out of his mind.

“Finally ready are we?” he huffed, turning to the keys and playing a soft melody. Haurchefant was no expert dancer but he knew some dances but it seemed as though Mizuki was far better than she had let on, almost leading him around the room. “I thought you couldn't dance?” he questioned, as he twirled her around. She pouted and looked away.

“She can.” Emmanellain announced, watching smugly from the chairs. “Mistress Krile told me-”

“By the Fury boy!” Edmont snapped “And you let this silly facade play out?” Emmanellain shrugged.

“Nobody asked me.” he mumbled back.

“Ow!” Haurchefant grimaced and looked down at Mizuki who was playfully frowning at him. “Apparently you’re the one who could do with more lessons.” She laughed, pulling Haurchefant along with her.

“I shall have to apologise to Aymeric for stealing a dance from you first.” This time Mizuki stamped down as hard as she could onto his foot. “That was uncalled for.” Haurchefant moved to spin Mizuki but tripped over his own feet, sending both of them careening onto the floor. “It would seem I have two left feet as well.”

“Good heavens…” Edmont sighed.

“This is my time to shine!” Emmanellain announced proudly placing his hands on his hips. Haurchefant helped Mizuki up onto her feet, “That might be for the best lest I crush you again.” he laughed sheepishly and moved to the edge of the room only for Mizuki and Emmanellain to promptly march back over to him.

“Oh no dear brother, you shall be taking lessons too. You are coming to the ball too.” Emmanellain said, hooking one arm.

“If I have to suffer. So do you.” Mizuki added, hooking his other arm and dragged him back to the dance floor.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

[samwpmarleau]

This is a bit of wish fulfillment but can I get Rohanne and Calla Blackfyre confronting a captured Daemon in Daeron's court and slapping him? Daeron gives the ladies mercy and Calla the castle.

The king himself had come to the keep with a message for her, and that was the only reason Rohanne had paused in her hurried preparations to flee with her children — her remaining children, she must keep reminding herself — back to Tyrosh. Daeron had always been fair to her, and despite everything, she knew he would have sent guardsmen to arrest her if he meant her harm. So she had listened, heard him out, considered his words.

Or perhaps “considered” is too generous a term, she reflects as she stands in the middle of the throne room, Calla drawn into her side, Daemon standing in front of them. With the help of two Kingsguard, that is — it’s a miracle Ser Brynden’s arrows had not killed him, she’s been told, and he is not yet fully healed.

Healed enough, however, to face judgment.

“You would use my wife and daughter as bargaining chips, brother?” Daemon asks the king, who is perched high upon the throne.

Queen Myriah, regal and stoic as ever, sits on her gilded chair at the base of the stairs, their four sons beside her. It had been Prince Baelor’s expression that alarmed Rohanne the most when first she had entered. While Prince Maekar had never bothered to hide his loathing of Daemon, Baelor had always acted above it all. (Save for Princess Daenerys’s wedding tourney, perhaps, in which Baelor showed plenty of self-satisfaction.)

But here, now, there is hardened darkness in him.

Daeron replies, “I am not using them for anything. Lady Rohanne and Lady Calla are here of their own accord.”

Daemon gives Calla barely a passing glance, but Rohanne’s eyes he does meet. “What has he promised that you would humble yourselves so?”

He grunts in pain when one of the Kingsguard, Ser Roland Crakehall, kicks him in the side; blood begins to stain his shirt. Rohanne does not flinch. “Only that which he could have taken from us,” she says. “His Grace has permitted us to remain at the keep, unmolested and unpunished for your actions. Provided I renounce any claims to the throne from our sons and daughters, which I have done. And he asked if there was anything we wished to say to you before you were executed.”

“ ‘His Grace’? Daeron Falseborn has no —”

“Enough, Daemon. Enough.”

She had never loved him, exactly. She had been sold off like a broodmare to a foreign land for a mere alliance, and even though Daemon himself had had nothing to do with that, she still could not find it in herself to love him truly. But they had found contentment of a sort, and she had bore him nine children. It pains her to see him standing here injured, his grand vision in tatters.

Yet, equally she cannot say part of her does not find catharsis in this. He had shamed her with his vows of love for Princess Daenerys, his constant resentment of his half-brother was wearying, and she will never forget the feelings of disgust and betrayal when Daemon told her he had promised Calla to Aegor. If things had gone differently, perhaps this very moment Calla would be Aegor’s wife, never mind what Rohanne wanted. Never mind that Calla is but one-and-ten, Aegor more than twice that.

“What is it you wish to say, then?” Daemon asks.

Oh, there is plenty. But there is not time enough in the world, nor words, for it to properly be expressed. So instead, Rohanne raises her hand and cracks it across Daemon’s face. The force of it makes his eyes water, and blood begins to well from where one of her many rings had cut him. Her hand smarts something fierce, but she refuses to show weakness.

“I want my sons back,” she snarls. “Can you give them to me?”

“You don’t think I would if I could? It was Bloodraven who killed them.”

“No,” she says. “They would still be in my arms if you had not begun this vendetta. You and Aegor and Fireball.”

“Papa?” Calla pipes up before Daemon can reply. “I don’t want you to die.”

Daemon looks down at her, softening just a bit. “I don’t want to die either, Calla. But it’s not up to me.”

“It was, though.” Her lip wibbles. “Why couldn’t we have stayed as we were? Were we not enough?”

“It wasn’t about that,” says Daemon. “It was about taking our rights back. You are supposed to be a princess, Calla, and your brothers princes, not these …” Daemon gestures at the king’s four sons. “Imposters.”

“Imposters?” Prince Maekar explodes. “You dare —”

“Maekar.” Daeron does not raise his voice, yet the youngest prince quiets as though he had. The king appraises Daemon for a few moments. “I may consider letting you keep your life, for the sake of your family. You would have to recant, you would be under guard until the end of your days, your generals would be executed, and your keep would be under my purview, but you would be allowed to live. Do you accept?”

“I will recant nothing,” Daemon spits. “I will not submit to a false king!”

Rohanne shuts her eyes. She had not expected him to do what Daeron proposed, yet all the same, it stings. Calla begins to cry, takes one last look at her father, then runs the length of the room and is escorted out by the guards.

“So this is your choice, is it?” Rohanne asks. “Despite what and who you are leaving behind, you choose pride.”

“Better pride than to roll over like a dog.”

Rohanne looks down at Daemon. She would like to believe that it had solely been Aegor and Fireball behind the corruption of her husband, that in time, he would indeed drop his rebellious ways. But those deep purple eyes of his are filled with ever-burning fury, and she knows that whatever modicum of respect he may have once had for Daeron, whatever deference, has long since vanished. She and the children would never satisfy him, and if she were to lend unwavering support, she would be consigning them all to death alongside him. She doesn’t know whether Daemon has the right of it and Daeron is in fact Aemon’s son, but nevertheless, it had been the red dragon, not the black, who had won the day.

“I am done here,” she tells King Daeron. “I do not think there is anything I can say that would make a difference.”

“You would truly turn traitor, Rohanne?”

“Traitor? If that is how you see this, then yes. I am a traitor, but I will live where you will die because I can see what the right path is.”

Betrayal joins the hatred in Daemon’s expression. Rohanne does not look away.

“Very well,” announces Daeron. Another man would sound happy, victorious, but he merely sounds resigned. “Ser Roland, bring Ser Daemon to the pulpit, and Ser Willem, please fetch the headsman. It seems we have need of his sword. Lady Rohanne, you needn’t watch this.”

Her laugh is humorless as she watches Ser Roland step forward and begin dragging Daemon towards the doors. “Yes, Your Grace, I do.”

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV: A Splatter of Rage

Wolmeric Week #1: Formal

A/N: So I was messaged by a couple people that today was apparently the first day of Wolmeric Week on twitter (which I do not have an account on), and at first I was all, “oh jeebus no I just did twenty-eight days of prompts, no more!” But then the first day’s prompt stewed in my brain. And then turned more into worldbuilding than shipping, whoops, but it’s not like I don’t prefer worldbuilding, some days. So. Enjoy?

Day 1 || Day 2 || Day 3 || Day 4 || Day 5 || Day 6 || Day 7 || Bonus!

RATING: T WORD COUNT: 1677 WARNINGS: Brief references to misogyny and classism

---

For all that Synnove intensely disliked (an understatement) what Ishgardian nobility considered a proper social function, she moved through the crowd of the Haillenarte parlor with an ease that certainly didn’t appear wholly feigned. Part of that, Aymeric knew, came from being forced to attend the much more cutthroat soirees of Ul’dahn business magnates by her mother and absorbing how they traded barbs disguised as compliments, whether she liked it or not. Part of it also stemmed from the years of maintaining the façade of bureaucratic benignity while serving as a cargo assessor for Mealvaan’s Gate and waiting for the right moment to bury a merchant-captain in so much red tape they couldn’t see the light of day for sennights.

“There is no Ishgardian count or lordling,” Synnove had muttered to him the first time she had accompanied him to a party as his beloved and not a Warrior of Light, “that has an ego to match that of a member of the fucking EATC board of directors. The likes of Lolorito and Lady Shushuha would flay this lot alive with just their tongues and barely consider it sport.”

Tonight was the type of gathering that was focused on gossip and hobnobbing rather than dancing—admittedly something neither of them had overly minded, too tired from overwork to gather the energy for more than idle strolling while sipping fine wines—and he had been drawn early on into a conversation with Counts de Haillenarte and Dzemael and the Speaker for the House of Commons, Lionnet Aucheforne. Artoirel and Lord Edmont had thus taken turns to keep Synnove company for most of the night; he had caught her eye more than once as she had taken leisurely turns of the room with either gentleman, delighting in the spark of predatory, possessive satisfaction in her gaze when it alighted upon himself. She was quite fond of him in the fine blue coat she had brought back from the First for him, and it was his honor to be a source of some pleasure for her this eve.

Unfortunately, it now appeared that in the lull between father and son switching off escort duty, someone had waylaid his lady. It was only years of exposure to the subtle shifts in Synnove’s carefully maintained mask of pleasant neutrality that allowed Aymeric, even at this distance clear on the other side of the large room, to pick out the sourness lurking at the slightly downturned corners of her mouth, the chill turning her lovely eyes from grass green to sharp emerald. He couldn’t see who it was that was speaking to her, however; leaning around Count Baurendouin would be far too obvious, so instead he kept half his attention on the conversation in which he was supposed to be participating as he flicked his gaze towards Synnove every few moments.

Finally, the crowd parted, just a little bit—

—oh, Seven fucking Hells.

Aymeric was quite certain he had not spoken aloud, but there was no hiding the horror contorting his face at the moment, as both Counts and his House of Commons counterpart immediately ceased speaking to stare at him in quiet bemusement for a handful of heartbeats. And then, in one synchronized movement, all three men turned to follow his gaze. Another heartbeat of silence and then while Master Aucheforne maintained his puzzlement, both Count Baurendouin and Count de Dzemael swore.

“Why would you invite her?” Count de Dzemael hissed.

“I did no such thing, and neither would my lady wife,” Count Baurendouin replied in the same tone. Both men had hunched their shoulders in unconsciousness defensiveness.

Clearing his throat, and speaking in slightly more normal tones, Count Baurendouin turned to him and said, “Ser Aymeric, I will take no offense should you decide to escort your lady home early tonight. Or if anything untoward should happen to another of my guests in ensuring your lady leaves further unmolested.”

Without any further prompting, Aymeric broke away and strode in ground-eating movements for Synnove while the two counts explained to Master Aucheforne why the sight of Lady Isabeau de Torsefers—Aymeric’s mama’s absolute least favorite cousin—struck terror into most of high society.

Lady de Torsefers occupied an unassailable position in Ishgard: widow to a noble knight of means who had died in honorable combat slaying Dravanians. That she was widowed at twenty-one, five months after her marriage and carrying her husband’s heir, had been considered a romantic tragedy among her generation. That her position mere steps away from saintliness had meant no one had been willing to rein in the worst of her snide, cruel comments for anyone who presented the slightest inconvenience to her whims and wants, that had transformed over the decades into the haughty never-wrong surety of an elderly dowager, was considered a waste of potential of a maiden who had been a shining example of proprietary and grace at the time of her betrothal.

“A feral croc in karakul’s clothing, that one,” he had overheard Mama mutter to Hersande when Lady de Torsefers had shown up unannounced for afternoon tea, once.

He wove through the crowd with ease, startling no few of the lords and ladies, leaving a wake of rustling silks behind him. And with every step closer, Synnove’s expression chilled further and further until her face was as cold and expressionless as a statue of the Fury Herself.

(That tiny, atavistic part of his mind recognized that “Fury” was too-apt a comparison.)

Aymeric finally reached his lady’s side, nearly out of breath, to hear Lady de Torsefers say, somehow managing to look down her nose despite age having shrunk her to ilms shorter than Synnove, “—though I suppose you aren’t the worst choice to final beget a passel of Borel heirs.”

Synnove’s hand tightened on her wine glass until her knuckles whitened. Aymeric internally seethed, but this, unfortunately, wasn’t the first time some too-nosy noble had thought they needed to venture their (unwanted, unasked for, absolutely inappropriate) opinion about what type of family Synnove and Aymeric should have. (Never mind they had everything they wanted just as it was.) Still, it never failed to have him see red that anyone would reduce a woman, much less a heroine of the Dragonsong War and a Warrior of Light, to breeding potential.

“Children aren’t in our future,” Synnove said in a voice so frosty it was a wonder her breath didn’t ice the air before her. Aymeric ilmed closer to her, gently setting his hand on the small of her back; she shifted imperceptibly to press back against him. “The carbuncles are rambunctious enough on their own.”

Lady de Torsefers laughed, dry and mocking, her beady eyes glinting. “Oh, children are a much larger challenge than pets, though a proper governess makes that simpler!”

Synnove growled, low and furious, with enough force that Aymeric felt it reverberate up his arm. He may have made a similar sound himself, he couldn’t say for certainty, though he did know he saw red once more. The fact there currently wasn’t blood staining the Haillenarte carpet and walls was likely a product of divine intervention: nothing enraged Synnove quite so much as any implication that her carbuncles weren’t people.

His mama’s least favorite cousin for obvious reasons gave him a dismissive glance. “Two governesses, perhaps, to counteract the late archbishop’s taint.”

Aymeric’s jaw dropped, shock knocking away his rage as he stared at Lady de Torsefers and her mean little smile, so absolutely taken aback that his mind skittered to a halt. He heard more than one outraged gasp from the nearby nobles.

There was a beat of stillness, the sounds of the rest of the party distant and dim—and then Synnove threw her wine into Lady de Torsefers’s face.

The dowager shrieked in surprise and outrage as the liquid streaked her face powder and dripped onto her widow’s weeds. She pulled out a handkerchief and started frantically dabbing at her eyes as a few startled, choked off laughs echoed around them before the culprits hurriedly turned away; Aymeric didn’t bother to do similarly, instead letting out his smirk as malicious glee unfolded in his chest. Once her eyes were sufficiently clear, the widow lowered the handkerchief to glare at Synnove, a nasty sneer curdling her mouth.

“How dare you, you ill-bred cur,” Lady de Torsefers hissed.

Synnove matched her glare, unblinking, as she set her now-empty wine glass down on the tray a server had whisked over to present, and just as quickly whisked away. “Madam,” said Synnove, voice shivering with barely-contained rage, “should you ever again insult a member of my family, whether it be in my hearing or not, I will do worse then douse you with wine.”

The malicious glee morphed into pride and deep affection; even years after she had first done so, it never failed to awe Aymeric that Synnove had chosen him, that she counted him among her loved ones and a member of her family. In as deliberate an insult as he could manage without actually wasting words on the woman, he turned his back on Lady de Torsefers, ignoring her gasp of outrage. Synnove sniffed at his nudge on her back but acquiesced, spinning on her heel, and in unison, the couple left.

They were, fortunately, not far from the large parlor’s exit, so only a few eyes followed them as they swept out with a pointed swirl of Synnove’s green skirts. Her heels clacked loudly against the marble floor of House Haillenarte’s grand entrance foyer, the sound sharp and strident as she near-vibrated with fury, as she growled, “I know we’re rather overdressed for it, but I want a drink from the Forgotten Knight.”

Aymeric used the hand still on her back to pull her closer and kiss the side of her head. “No argument from me, darling,” he said. “And then we can detour to the Congregation and blow up a few striking dummies. We can even dress them in old black rags.”

“I’m keeping you.”

“You’d better!”

[janiedean]

hey, can you talk about this: why is it that even after jaime saves brienne from rape & jumps into a bearpit for her, brienne still expects the worst from him and thinks he wants her to kill sansa? can b ever fully trust and love jaime? will brienne ever accept that jaime loves her and is capable of good or will she always expect evil from him/ be insecure + expect him to pull a ronnet? i think this will cause problems for them if they ever get together. do you think it would be a deal-breaker?

tldr: no because the moment you read her affc povs you see she’s way past her initial distrust and actually that scene is... the turning point? like you don’t know that because you don’t have her pov, but anyway I think I’ll just break it down and be done with it since I had wanted to for a while - regardless, premise: you can see exactly how far she goes with trusting him/changing her mind about him by seeing her dialogue choices in asos before, as in, she calls him ser for the first time after he saves her from being raped and when they’re in the bath she snaps at him the moment he goads her about renly and she’s naked in front of a man and she feels most likely guilty for the loss of his hand, and the moment he faints she catches him and she volunteers to dress him/clean him up after, like... you don’t do that if you don’t want to and if you don’t care about the person some regardless. ANYWAY SO let me just find the whole scene.

SOOOO, counting that he’s doing this just after he basically broke up with cersei...

The wench looked as ugly and awkward as ever, he decided when Tyrell left them. Someone had dressed her in woman’s clothes again, but this dress fit much better than that hideous pink rag the goat had made her wear. “Blue is a good color on you, my lady,” Jaime observed. “It goes well with your eyes.” She does have astonishing eyes.

Brienne glanced down at herself, flustered. “Septa Donyse padded out the bodice, to give it that shape. She said you sent her to me.” She lingered by the door, as if she meant to flee at any second. “You look . . .”

“Different?” He managed a half-smile. “More meat on the ribs and fewer lice in my hair, that’s all. The stump’s the same. Close the door and come here.” She did as he bid her. “The white cloak . . .”

“. . . is new, but I’m sure I’ll soil it soon enough.”

“That wasn’t . . . I was about to say that it becomes you.”

right, so, when this entire scene starts you have the worst flirting that ever existed but like basically that’s pretty much what it is - they haven’t seen each other in a while right, and first he goes like UH UGLY AND AWKWARD, then in the span of three lines he decides that the dress looks nice on her and it fits her, and when he opens his mouth he calls her my lady and compliments her on her appearance and her eyes and then thinks SHE HAS ASTONISHING EYES which like... jaime you were thinking she was ugly three lines ago where is the truth, the truth is that he’s hella attracted to her, he’s not admitting it to himself but he can’t help saying it and so hey hello brienne, you just showed up in my room where I summoned you after having you freed and I’m telling you you’re hot!! when you never heard it before from a guy ever!!!

brienne at that point is FLUSTERED and feels like pointing out the bodice is padded as if he hasn’t seen her naked, and she’s obviously afraid af because she’s standing near the door, and then she goes like ‘you look...’ while most likely STARING at him like OH MY GOD HAVEN’T SEEN HIM IN WEEKS LOOK AT HIM jesus, and then he starts going off with the self-deprecating humor telling her to get over here, she does, she starts again with the white cloak, he goes all defensive self-deprecating again (I’ll soil it soon enough, presuming that she still thinks that of him)... and then she goes like I was about to say it becomes you, which means I’m telling you A WHITE CLOAK FITS YOU AND IS BECOMING ON YOU, which given the significancy of the white cloak/kg/the fact that he confessed her he believed in his vow/knighthood when he was fifteen in the bath... she’s telling him being honorable becomes him, which sorry but does not to me qualify as ‘expecting the worse of him’. now:

She came closer, hesitant. “Jaime, did you mean what you told Ser Loras? About . . . about King Renly, and the shadow?”

Jaime shrugged. “I would have killed Renly myself if we’d met in battle, what do I care who cut his throat?”

“You said I had honor . . .”

“I’m the bloody Kingslayer, remember? When I say you have honor, that’s like a whore vouchsafing your maidenhood.” He leaned back and looked up at her. 

problem is: he is on the self-deprecative spiral wanting to distance himself, which I have a feeling is because he’s a) upset because of cersei from before b) not exactly processing his feelings re being into her, so everything she is saying he’s shutting her down, which makes her hesitant - first he shrugs away having gotten her out of prison and talking for her to loras when if you read that part you know he cares about getting her out, she’s all like oh YOU SAID I HAD HONOR!!! **, and he immediately shuts that down too with the it’s worth nothing if I do, so basically she’s there all ‘!!! ** !!!’ and he’s back to shutting her out, which... considering how brienne is would make her lose a lot of courage here, right? right. also: SHE CALLED HIM JAIME��in the beginning, which means... she feels like they’re on a familiar enough level that she can use his name without the ser before and she’s not calling him kingslayer. like. she’s absolutely expecting the best here.

“Steelshanks is on his way back north, to deliver Arya Stark to Roose Bolton.”

“You gave her to him?” she cried, dismayed. “You swore an oath to Lady Catelyn . . .”

“With a sword at my throat, but never mind. Lady Catelyn’s dead. I could not give her back her daughters even if I had them. And the girl my father sent with Steelshanks was not Arya Stark.”

“Not Arya Stark?”

“You heard me. My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same coloring. He dressed her up in white and grey, gave her a silver wolf to pin her cloak, and sent her off to wed Bolton’s bastard.” He lifted his stump to point at her. “I wanted to tell you that before you went galloping off to rescue her and got yourself killed for no good purpose. You’re not half bad with a sword, but you’re not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself.”

now, for the chapter where grrm knows that words mean things: the definition of dismayed is : experiencing or showing feelings of alarmed concern or dismay : upset, worried, or agitated because of some unwelcome situation or occurrence, which means that the moment jaime goes like ‘oh and I gave arya to roose bolton’ she is UPSET at hearing that... because she didn’t expect that? she changed her mind, she thinks he’s honorable, he saved her from being raped, he’s complimenting her, she’s trying to compliment him, she thinks they have an understanding, he told her all of that...... and now he’s telling her he gave arya back to the boltons? when she thought he cared about their oath and he freed her? like what the fuck jaime? obviouly she’s upset, but because she already expected better and he’s a disaster emotionally stunted person who just moved on from 17yo of emotional maturity and he can’t have that conversation without going in self-defense. he points out he can’t do that but anyway then tells her it’s not arya.. because he didn’t want brienne to go after her ie he cared about her well-being and now he throws in a compliment too (you’re not half bad with a sword) and she’s most likely like wtf, also he gestures at her with the stump which cersei refused to interact with before and brienne doesn’t even flinch at that, but never mind let’s go on.

Brienne shook her head. “When Lord Bolton learns that your father paid him with false coin . . .”

“Oh, he knows. Lannisters lie, remember? It makes no matter, this girl serves his purpose just as well. Who is going to say that she isn’t Arya Stark? Everyone the girl was close to is dead except for her sister, who has disappeared.”

“Why would you tell me all this, if it’s true? You are betraying your father’s secrets.”

The Hand’s secrets, he thought. I no longer have a father. “I pay my debts like every good little lion. I did promise Lady Stark her daughters . . . and one of them is still alive. My brother may know where she is, but if so he isn’t saying. Cersei is convinced that Sansa helped him murder Joffrey.”

“The wench’s mouth got stubborn. “I will not believe that gentle girl a poisoner. Lady Catelyn said that she had a loving heart. It was your brother. There was a trial, Ser Loras said.”

as stated: she shakes her head, which is a thing you do... when you’ve just been given conflicting information, which he just did because he just told her HEY MY FATHER JUST BASICALLY LIED TO HIS ALLY, but poor girl is not a political shrewd mind because a moment later he explains her that they both knew and so on, and at that point brienne is understandably like WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS IT’S TREASON, which it technically is.... and then he remembers tywin disowned him and they argued so ‘I no longer have a father’, but he doesn’t tell brienne that, goes back to self-defensive, goes like ‘well I’m a good lion and I pay my debts’ and then only mentions what his brother and sister think, counting that brienne doesn’t know tyrion and know what he does about cersei... that might make her think that he’s taking their side, and now she is getting defensive pointing out it couldn’t be sansa and so on, but like... he basically has given her conflicted reactions, now she’s back on the defensive... as she generally is unless it’s with someone she trusts.

“Two trials, actually. Words and swords both failed him. A bloody mess. Did you watch from your window?”

“My cell faces the sea. I heard the shouting, though.”

“Prince Oberyn of Dorne is dead, Ser Gregor Clegane lies dying, and Tyrion stands condemned before the eyes of gods and men. They’re keeping him in a black cell till they kill him.”

Brienne looked at him. “You do not believe he did it.”

Jaime gave her a hard smile. “See, wench? We know each other too well. Tyrion’s wanted to be me since he took his first step, but he’d never follow me in kingslaying. Sansa Stark killed Joffrey. My brother’s kept silent to protect her. He gets these fits of gallantry from time to time. The last one cost him a nose. This time it will mean his head.”

now they discuss the trials blah blah blah, and brienne figures out he doesn’t believe tyrion did it just from the tone/the way he says it - because the facts are kind of straight, so it must be the tone of voice, and then what does he says as he gives her a *hard smile*? that they know each other too well. and then he goes and says a bunch of stuff that’s not true (sansa killed joffrey, tyrion kept silent), goading her again...

“No,” Brienne said. “It was not my lady’s daughter. It could not have been her.”

“There’s the stubborn stupid wench that I remember.”

“She reddened. “My name is . . .”

“Brienne of Tarth.” Jaime sighed. “I have a gift for you.” He reached down under the Lord Commander’s chair and brought it out, wrapped in folds of crimson velvet.

Brienne approached as if the bundle was like to bite her, reached out a huge freckled hand, and flipped back a fold of cloth. Rubies glimmered in the light. She picked the treasure up gingerly, curled her fingers around the leather grip, and slowly slid the sword free of its scabbard. Blood and black the ripples shone. A finger of reflected light ran red along the edge. “Is this Valyrian steel? I have never seen such colors.”

“Nor I. There was a time that I would have given my right hand to wield a sword like that. Now it appears I have, so the blade is wasted on me. Take it.” Before she could think to refuse, he went on. “A sword so fine must bear a name. It would please me if you would call this one Oathkeeper. One more thing. The blade comes with a price.”

... at which brienne absolutely falls for it and protests but then he goes like ‘oh there you are’, so he was most likely either testing her or pushing her to say it again/assure himself of what he was doing, but for her... it’d be even more confusing. she blushes when he calls her wench, and then when he says he has a gift she’s scared af until she sees what it is, and when she asks what it is first he does the self-deprecation thing again, then says he wants it named oathkeeper, so far so good... and then says it comes with a price, which makes it sound like she has to do something in return to have it, and how would that sound to her after this entire conversation when he hasn’t told her that he’s cut off ties with anyone but tyrion and he’s been basically hostile/sarcastic/has rebuked all her compliments?

Her face darkened. “I told you, I will never serve . . .”

“. . . such foul creatures as us. Yes, I recall. Hear me out, Brienne. Both of us swore oaths concerning Sansa Stark. Cersei means to see that the girl is found and killed, wherever she has gone to ground . . .”

Brienne’s homely face twisted in fury. “If you believe that I would harm my lady’s daughter for a sword, you—”

“Just listen,” he snapped, angered by her assumption. “I want you to find Sansa first, and get her somewhere safe. How else are the two of us going to make good our stupid vows to your precious dead Lady Catelyn?”

The wench blinked. “I . . . I thought . . .”

now here’s the point but like... she assumes he wanted her to do what cersei wanted when he hasn’t given her any other hint he might want to do otherwise throughout the exchange and basically never told her anything straight and she had come in all excited and wanting to compliment him and presuming the best, and then he gets angry because she assumed wrong... but what was she going to assume? then again: asos!jaime handles a lot of his interactions like an angry teenager because again he started moving on from it during this book and he has no idea of how to deal with her or that that kinda attitude would confuse the shit out of her and make her assume wrong things when she wasn’t assuming them to begin with, and when she immediately realizes he just wanted to keep the oath she goes back to OH, like... she was presuming they’d withhold it from the beginning when she mentioned it along with arya, so it’s her now knowing she was right and go like OH FUCK I FUCKED UP, but like... jaime baby ily but just tell her from the get go right? nah, I guess. buuut let’s go on.

“I know what you thought.” Suddenly Jaime was sick of the sight of her. She bleats like a bloody sheep. “When Ned Stark died, his greatsword was given to the King’s Justice,” he told her. “But my father felt that such a fine blade was wasted on a mere headsman. He gave Ser Ilyn a new sword, and had Ice melted down and reforged. There was enough metal for two new blades. You’re holding one. So you’ll be defending Ned Stark’s daughter with Ned Stark’s own steel, if that makes any difference to you.”

“Ser, I . . . I owe you an apolo . . .”

He cut her off. “Take the bloody sword and go, before I change my mind. There’s a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained. Chase after Steelshanks, search for Sansa, or ride home to your isle of sapphires, it’s naught to me. I don’t want to look at you anymore.”

“Jaime . . .”

“Kingslayer,” he reminded her. “Best use that sword to clean the wax out of your ears, wench. We’re done.”

Stubbornly, she persisted. “Joffrey was your . . .”

now not that I don’t think that jaime wasn’t pushing her also in... outright denial of not wanting her to go, but: now he’s angry at her (when he technically got her angry when he could have not) and wants her to go and he’s telling her again in the sarcasticselfdefense tone and she immediately - immediately - tries to apologize, he shuts her off, doesn’t tell her that the mare is not homely at all, and tells her it’s naught to him when it’s all to him since she knows what his honor means to him, she goes from ‘ser’ (honorific) to ‘jaime’ (personal) and he goes back to ‘nah I’m the kingslayer see that’s all I’ll ever be leave’, except that... she doesn’t leave and she persists, stubbornly, because she actually wants to know, and presses asking about joffrey since she knows he was his father and is most likely still WTFFFFF HE’S BETRAYING HIS FAMILY...

“My king. Leave it at that.”

“You say Sansa killed him. Why protect her?”

Because Joff was no more to me than a squirt of seed in Cersei’s cunt. And because he deserved to die. “I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor.” Jaime smiled thinly. “Besides, kingslayers should band together. Are you ever going to go?”

Her big hand wrapped tight around Oathkeeper. “I will. And I will find the girl and keep her safe. For her lady mother’s sake. And for yours.” She bowed stiffly, whirled, and went.

she expects him to say his son? he say ‘his king’ and LEAVE IT AT THAT, giving the idea he doesn’t care, and at that point she goes like okay so why would you protect the person you said killed him, fair question right, which I think on her side was... wanting to see what he’d reply because she’s realizing he won’t answer straight right, and exactly he thinks ‘joffrey deserved it and was nothing to me’ but doesn’t tell her that, he tells her that he made kings and unmade them, fair, and then that sansa is his last chance at honor, and smiles thinly (not hard like before), which suggests he’s visually being sincere, and it’s an answer brienne would get... and then he reminds her that he’s called a kingslayer and she is called one and neither of them actually were in the wrong but they both have bad fame for it and they should band together and pledge their oath, and... brienne gets it because she stops asking questions, takes the sword and goes, but instead of falling for his bait or be angry about being called a kingslayer, she says she’ll fulfill their oath and find sansa for catelyn’s sake and for his sake too, pointing out she’s swearing a vow to him too before she leaves after bowing, which basically seals it...

which means that she walked in with a good impression of him, he challenged it, then she realized it wasn’t wrong and he just was shit as communicating and she’s not... expecting the worse anymore? anytime she thinks of him in affc is as the honorable man who saved her and she swore a vow to and she wishes would be with her on her quest, not as someone she doesn’t trust. so, to go with your questions:

1) brienne still expects the worst from him and thinks he wants her to kill sansa?

as stated from the above: she doesn’t :)

2) can b ever fully trust and love jaime?

she was about to die for him at the end of affc, I think she already does X°D

3) will brienne ever accept that jaime loves her and is capable of good or will she always expect evil from him/ be insecure + expect him to pull a ronnet?

she’s already... not? I mean, accepting he loves her might be a problem because she doesn’t conceive he would as it is and it’d take a while for her to not be insecure, but that he’s capable of good she already does, and she’s way past expecting him to pull a ronnet XD she doesn’t even compare them once like... I don’t see how this would be a thing X°DD

4) i think this will cause problems for them if they ever get together. do you think it would be a deal-breaker?

I don’t because like... okay her being insecure might eventually but honestly she wanted to die for him anon and she was convinced of his good intentions the moment she walked into the room and then he threw her in for a loop and she came out of that even more convinced soooooo no I really don’t think it would XD