#robb stark please reject me so i can move on

[askinkiskarma]

I’m fully back in my game of thrones era, and I need to say just one thing

JUST ONE CHANCE ONE CHANCE I BEG YOU

[thebluelemontree]

I’m sorry, @anabel7631​ but there are some very incorrect assumptions here. Lady did not die because Sansa lied.

"Joff told us what happened," the queen said. "You and the butcher boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him."

"That's not how it was," Arya said, close to tears again. Ned put a hand on her shoulder. "Yes it is!" Prince Joffrey insisted. "They all attacked me, and she threw Lion's Tooth in the river!" Ned noticed that he did not so much as glance at Arya as he spoke.

...

"They were not the only ones present," Ned said. "Sansa, come here." Ned had heard her version of the story the night Arya had vanished. He knew the truth. "Tell us what happened." -- Eddard III, AGOT.

Sansa had already told the truth of what happened to her father the day Arya went missing. That’s how Ned knew immediately that Joffrey was lying and confirmed it with Joffrey’s tells. Let’s be real. Ned is the only adult in that room that even remotely cares what the truth is. Robert will admit on his deathbed that he knew all along Joffrey was lying too, yet he did nothing. 

Sansa doesn’t lie about placing the blame on her sister or Mycah or Nymeria at this moment. The most dishonesty she exhibits is saying she didn’t remember or see what happened:

 His eldest daughter stepped forward hesitantly. She was dressed in blue velvets trimmed with white, a silver chain around her neck. Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone. She blinked at her sister, then at the young prince. "I don't know," she said tearfully, looking as though she wanted to bolt. "I don't remember. Everything happened so fast, I didn't see …"

"You rotten!" Arya shrieked. She flew at her sister like an arrow, knocking Sansa down to the ground, pummeling her. "Liar, liar, liar, liar."

The reason Arya is calling Sansa a liar is because she could not have known Sansa had already told Ned the truth. This is the first time all three of them are together since Arya had run off. When she was found by Jory, they were ordered to go directly to the king and queen. Sansa is guilty of failing to support her sister when she is being interrogated; however, this is still a patriarchal society, and she is being asked to speak against her future husband who is also the crown prince. Sansa tries to mitigate the pressure from both sides by attempting to take a neutral position. Ned never blames her at all for this. Again, Ned already knew what the truth was and he can see that clearly Robert and Cersei don’t really care what Sansa has to say anyway.

Cersei was already gunning for a wolf skin no matter what. She knew Lady had nothing to do with any of this by all accounts, but one wolf was as good as any other. You think Cersei’s history with Lyanna Stark both “stealing” Rhaegar from her as well as Robert obsessing over her since day one of their marriage, PLUS the prophecy of someone younger and more beautiful coming to take all she holds dear doesn’t have something to do with Cersei wanting to punish a Stark girl? Any Stark girl? Take that wolf skin trophy and strip her rival Sansa of her power and protection? This has less to do with Joffrey and more to do with Cersei’s insecurities and need for petty vengeance against a Stark scapegoat. 

It’s not only Cersei making her crazy demand to kill Lady. Robert’s response is to just walk away from innocent parties being killed (passively giving his consent) because he doesn’t want to be harangued by his wife. This business is all a big buzzkill and he just wants to get back to having fun. We already established that Robert knew full well that Joffrey was lying. Ned begs him to spare Lady, but Robert just fucks off. So Cersei’s authority as queen stands, which even as Hand, Ned can’t defy it once Robert co-signed. The only thing he can do is put Lady down himself so Cersei can’t have her trophy.  

That, obviously, still has a negative impact on Ned and Sansa’s relationship as a breach of trust since Ned volunteered and avoided talking to Sansa about it afterward. This was a decision Ned came to regret later when he wondered if he had made a big mistake in killing Sansa’s dire wolf. 

Sansa doesn’t have to regret anything about Lady’s death because she was in no way responsible for that happening. Does she still owe Arya an apology for some of the mean things she did say and the times she didn’t stick up for Arya when she should have?  Absolutely. Is the onus still on Sansa to make the first moves in repairing their sisterly relationship? Absolutely. Arya doesn’t hate Sansa at all. She was justifiably angry and hurt, but she doesn’t hate her. They will definitely resolve those past issues and reconcile. 

Even though Sansa tried to take the neutral position, that doesn’t stop Joffrey from refusing to see or speak to her for a long time. She had nothing to do with Joffrey’s injuries but he shows contempt for her all the same. While Sansa is “in love��� with the person she thinks Joffrey is or wants him to be, we have to remember this is still a patriarchy. Sansa has been raised to be deferential to her husband. Joffrey’s cold displeasure leads Sansa to alter her view of what happened after the fact and misplace the blame on Arya for a good while. Joffrey is still her betrothed, so she has to rewrite the narrative because the idea of spending the rest of her life married to a liar and a cruel bully is psychologically intolerable. I’m not saying this part is a good thing at all. Sansa is in the wrong for blaming Arya and Ned to the point of fully excusing Joffrey and Cersei. She is burying her head in the sand and refusing to deal with the truth, which she has known all along because she told her father.  

Sansa will voice that truth when she is warning Margaery and Olenna of what kind of person Joffrey is.  

A shiver went through her. "A monster," she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well."

It’s not regret over what other people did that Sansa needs to express. Its dealing with the fact that the reflags were there early on but she couldn’t accept them. Arya had been right to dislike Joffrey and the queen, but Sansa didn’t listen. She thought Arya was crazy and just wanted to ruin things out of spite. In this reversal of positions, Sansa is trying to warn another girl, someone she will view as a sister, about her abusive ex. 

Sister. Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world's graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went. How can I let my sister marry Joffrey? she thought, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. "Margaery, please," she said, "you mustn't." It was hard to get the words out. "You mustn't marry him. He's not like he seems, he's not. He'll hurt you."

Yes, there is a dig at Arya. Change doesn’t always happen in a smooth progression. Sometimes there are flaws, missteps, and micro-regressions; however, she also thinks “how can I let my sister marry Joffrey?”  

Once Sansa eventually experiences rejection by Margaery and the Tyrells, she will come to understand a bit more of how Arya must have felt when the support of her sister was withdrawn. It’s not conscious thought process, but she is having experiences that should make her more appreciative, mature, and understanding of Arya. ASOS is where Sansa’s thinking on Arya really starts to take a shift toward the positive.  

If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

We have to keep in mind, until Winterfell is sacked and Bran and Rickon are reported murdered, Sansa believed Arya was at home safe. Now everyone is dead. 

King Joffrey looked as if he wanted to kill someone right then and there, he was so excited. He slashed at the air and laughed. "A great sword must have a great name, my lords! What shall I call it?"

Sansa remembered Lion's Tooth, the sword Arya had flung into the Trident, and Hearteater, the one he'd made her kiss before the battle. She wondered if he'd want Margaery to kiss this one.

Her remembering of the Trident has gone from Arya being the aggressor to Arya being the hero that disarms the aggressor. That’s a total 180 in Sansa’s view of Arya’s actions, where Sansa is now justifying them as an appropriate response.

Then if you just do a search on Sansa’s mentions of Arya in ASOS, AFFC, and TWOW it’s all positive stuff. It’s all good memories, but Sansa thinks Arya is dead and they’ll never see each other again. When the sisters reunite, Sansa will be overwhelmed with gratitude that someone else in her family survived. She’s thinking of Arya quite frequently and the relationship they used to have, so Sansa will be more than willing to do the work of getting back to that relationship. She is primed to have that heartfelt, apologetic conversation to lay the rocky past to rest. The first step in being able to analyzing her own faults is accepting the whole truth and understanding Arya’s point of view and how she must have felt. That’s all there. She’s shown she has done that. ^^^ All that’s needed is for them to meet face to face and be able to hash it out. 

So no, I can’t agree with your assessment of Sansa’s characterization when what you’re basing that off of is fundamentally wrong.  

[chasingforeverandaday]

Can I ask for #23 from the fluff writing prompts please? “I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a mansion with some (boy/girl/person) I barely know.” I mean, it’s just screaming gendrya at me! Thank you!

Well, how does some Regency era AU sound? This one ended up a full on one shot, because I fell down a rabbit hole real fast. Also I got to write Robb, which was super fun because I never write Robb. He may be a bit out of character, but I feel like if any of the Stark siblings would understand Arya’s conflict of love and duty, it would absolutely be Robb.

half agony, half hope

There are times that Gendry Waters thinks his life would be so much simpler if he’d ever actually learned how to say no to Miss Arya Stark, sister to the Lord of Winterfell. He can stall her in her impulsivities yes, or can sometimes talk her around to his point of view on a matter, but straight up denying her when she looks up at him with those big grey eyes and the pout he always wishes to kiss from her lips?

Stronger men than him would capitulate without question.

Stronger men have.

So when she barges into his smithy one June morning, he steels himself for whatever new (potentially scandalous) misadventure she has in mind for them. But the stricken look on her face as she quietly requests that he close up early and meet her in his personal quarters ignites a panic in his belly, and he hustles the other customers out as quickly as he can after she leaves.

Door locked and forge cooled for the day, he hurries through washing up and finds her in his rooms, pacing back and forth in front of the hearth. He can see the exact moment she notices his presence, as her head whips around to his and her face crumples. Terror seizes in his veins and he crosses the room in two strides to pull her into his arms.

She doesn’t fight him, just lets herself be held for a moment before wrapping her arms around his waist so tightly he thinks she’ll never let go. A shudder passes through her slim frame, then one hand reaches up to bend his neck downwards, her mouth seeking his.

Gods know he’d be happy to kiss her forever, but something must have shaken Arya badly for her to show up unannounced and ask him to abandon his work. Pulling away to lean his forehead against hers, he asks, “Love, what’s wrong?

A tiny voice he’s never associated with Arya Stark whispers, “How quickly can you be ready to leave?”

“What?” Utterly bewildered, he pushes her back farther so he can read her face, but she just burrows her face into his neck, clinging onto him like a limpet. Cautiously, he moves them to his narrow bed, sitting on the edge as she falls into his lap, all the while never letting him go.

She looks up at him then, eyes a little harder, a little more sure as she takes his hands in hers. “Run away with me. Gendry, please, we need to go, and it needs to be as soon as possible.”

“I don’t understand, I thought we had more time, that I had more time to…” Prove myself worthy of you, let myself learn to let you go, something, anything but be forced to watch you choose between me and your family.

“My mother’s invited suitors from houses Frey, Dayne, and Arryn to Winterfell, and I heard her tell Robb earlier that she won’t be letting me reject all of them.” Turning away as she speaks, Arya curls into him more, making herself look even smaller if that were even possible. “She intends to have me wedded and bedded by the end of the summer, seems to think it will curb my more unladylike tendencies.”

“Arya, you’re only twenty two for gods’ sake. She can hardly be that desperate to be putting you on the shelf already!” Almost as an afterthought, he mumbles into her hair, “And I like your unladylike tendencies.”

A sad smile on her face, Arya cups his cheek with her palm as she stays seated in his lap. “I know you do. I think she just wants me to be someone else’s problem now. Besides, all my siblings but Rickon have made good matches and are married. But what my mother said isn’t the important part.”

There’s a subtle shift in her voice as she draws herself fully upright, the pain replaced by something a little more hopeful. She’s finally looking at him again, her grey eyes searching his.

“Because Robb…” she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders before looking him straight in the eye. “Robb told her he thought I should have more of a choice. He said that yes, I should marry, but that it didn’t have to be one of them. He told her that none of them would make me happy, and that I should marry a man who made me smile, not grimace every time I looked at him.”

Rubbing a hand up and down her back, Gendry cannot help but wonder, “That’s good, even I know that’s a good thing, but why…?”

“Because Robb walked out of his study and found me standing there, pale as a ghost I’m sure. He took me back to my room, and he told me that he thought I shouldn’t be forced to marry a man I didn’t love.” One of her hands comes to rest over his heart, fluttering rapidly at her touch. “Somehow, he knew about you and me, because then he told me he’d been thinking about commissioning you for some ironwork around the estate, and perhaps I could go to town to speak with you about it, since neither he nor Bran could do so today.”

The pieces fall together, and a little of Arya’s hope finds a home with Gendry. “So you think he’s giving us his blessing, and we’re running away.”

“I know he is, he just can’t come out and say it because of who he is.” Threading her fingers through his own, Arya holds their clasped hands together like a talisman, pressing a light kiss to the back of his before looking up with a smile. “We’re going to Gretna Green, and we’re going to get married like we’ve wanted to for three years, and then I’m going to actually learn how to keep a house and run your smithy, and we’re going to be happy, Gendry, so incredibly happy.”

“Aye, in our tiny little home with two rooms and no grand paintings or pianos or anything fancy like what you have up at Winterfell.” He knows that Arya says she has no care for those things, but he needs to remind her of the difference in their standing, just one last time before they make this choice that will alter their lives forever.

“Stupid boy,” she giggles, poking him in the nose with the first true grin he’s seen on her face this afternoon, “I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a manor with some person I barely know. I mean, ideally we live somewhere with a forge for you, but as long as you’re with me, I’m hardly going to be picky.”

Bending down, Gendry allows himself to brush a quick kiss to her lips, a promise made without words. “Give me a few days, so I can finish up my orders and get everything ready so I can leave. Just don’t say yes to any other proposals, and we’ll be saying our vows in a fortnight.”

-/-/-

A sennight later, as she prepares her horse for the journey as surreptitiously as she can, the stable door creaks open. Terrified that it will be that one stablehand who always tells her mother when she leaves the estate without asking permission, Arya hides in the shadows of Nymeria’s stall, peeking out into the center aisle into the hazy, pre-dawn light.

It’s Robb, carefully shutting the door behind him. He walks straight up to her hiding place and holds out his hand to her, a small smirk on his face. “Come out sister, we’ve not much time to waste.”

Slowly, she leads Nymeria out of the stall, fingers tightly gripping her reins. Her brother looks older than she’s ever seen him before. He looks like a lord in a way he never has before, one with the world weighing on his shoulders. But then her eyes meet his, and he smiles at her, and Robb is her big brother once more.

Dropping Nym’s reins, Arya throws herself into his arms, trusting that he will catch her implicitly. She’ll miss this, she thinks, having a brother she knows she can depend on.

When they finally pull away, Robb reaches up to wipe a tear she hadn’t even noticed from her eye. “There now, this won’t be the last time we see each other, little sister. Besides, one would think you’d be happier to be heading off on such a grand adventure with your blacksmith.”

Laughing wetly, she replied, “I am, trust me, I am anxious to start our lives together, I just…” here she shrugged, fidgeting her hands as she tried to gather the words to express herself. “This is the last time I’ll be in Winterfell as Arya Stark, or maybe ever if Mother reacts the way I think she will when she finds out. I’ll miss it here, even when Gendry and I have a new home. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“You’ll always have a home here, for as long as I’m the lord. Probably after too, as you and I both know you’re Little Ned’s favorite auntie. But I think you’ll be far happier living wherever you and your husband end up than you would locked up in a London townhouse with whatever ponce our Mother has handpicked for you.” The disgusted face he made at his own words made her smile again, which she knew was exactly why he’d done so in the first place.

Serious again, Robb placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze as he said, “I’ve grown to love Jeyne, I have, but I’ve never looked at her the way your Mr. Waters looks at you, or you look at him, and neither has Sansa’s husband. You’re incandescently happy whenever you’re near him, and I can always tell when you haven’t spoken to him in days because you’re so quiet, like you’re holding in all of your thoughts until you can share them with him.”

He sighed before continuing in a soft tone, “If you hadn’t found him, hadn’t fallen in love, then I would try to arrange a marriage for you that could lead to your overall happiness in life. But you did. You fell in love years ago, and I’m glad that at least one of us gets to experience that joy in this lifetime.”

Moving to hold her hand in his left, he reached with his right into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope. “This is the information for the accounts I’ve had set up in your name in London.” He placed it in her hand and looked her square in the eyes. “You may not be marrying with a proper trousseau, but this way you won’t be entering this marriage without your dowry. You don’t need to worry about Mother’s reaction either, I’ll take care of it. Jon will meet you in Scotland, I’ve already sent him an express explaining everything.”

Shocked at all the things he had thought of and put in place for her, Arya could only manage to sob, “Robby, I…” before hugging him again.

Her brother pulled her close once more, placing a kiss on her brow before pulling away. “I love you, and I’m sorry I cannot do more. Be happy, Arya. Be happy and one day when we’re old and grey, you’ll tell me stories of all your adventures with the man I know you love and the adorable little children I’m sure you’ll have. Now go, the tasks I set for James cannot take much longer, and you have quite the ride ahead of you.”

With that, Robb helped her onto her horse and led her outside as the sun rose. After he let her go, Arya pushed Nymeria into a trot, determined to make her way to the closed smithy before the people of Wintertown fully awoke. She only let herself look back once, barely able to see the figure of her brother as he waved her off into her future.

[elliemarchetti]

What if scenarios for red queen: What if Shade lived? What if Elara had survived? What if Maven had a kid with Iris? What if Cal had said no in king's cage? What if Montfort was involved with the scarlet guard before the events of red queen? What if Mare accepted Montfort's offer in glass sword? What if Mare wasn't captured by Maven? What if Maven survived? What if Tiberias Vl died before the events of red queen? What if Mare didn't fall into the arena? What if indeed.

Once I wrote a story called What If (you can find it in my old masterlist but I suggest not to read it  or do it lightly because my writing style and my english improved a lot since when I wrote it and I don’t really remember if it made sense) but unfortunately it doesn’t answer any of your questions as I have been  struck at chapter 4 for years so I will address your questions in a sort of bullet list that I couldn't wait to use (even if it doesn't seem to I love when things are well ordered).

What if Shade lived

Shade was a valuable asset for the Scarlet Guard, maybe the most valuable they had, and as it happened to George Martin with Robb Stark (as he said in an interview, he had to kill him off otherwise he would’ve conquered the Seven Kingdoms without all the drama that whoever read ASOIAF or watched GOT knows very well) Victoria Aveyard had to do the same, otherwise things would’ve been “too simple” for the good guys. His death shocked Mare and the readers very much, but I consider it extremely wasted as: 

we already knew how Mare mourned and missed him since she believed he was dead in RQ

although he remained her favorite their relationship had still changed, showing how even if two people love each other and are incredibly similar they can grow and take different paths even if in the same family

she was already scarred by other things and at the end of the series she would’ve been way more even without his death

Farley lost again someone she loved and we already know that her reaction to pain is anger.

To balance these points, and still leave the same psychological outcome in the characters, I think it would’ve made more sense if:

one of Mare's older brothers had died, leaving her wondering how things would’ve changed if she had prevented them from fighting as they’re Reds in a war full of people with abilities and leaving the Barrow’s still incomplete but with a different loss to manage 

the Colonel had died, leaving Farley to wonder if she couldn’t have fixed things before his premature departure and what would’ve changed with Clara’s birth (not to mention the fact that I like to imagine that after Clara they would’ve had another girl called Madeline and, after several years and long debates in Diana’s mind, a boy called Willis)

Either way, by analyzing more pratically what would’ve changed if Shade hadn't died, the first thing that comes to my mind is that Mare’s captivity in KC would’ve been way shorter, partly because of Shade's ability, partly because he and Cal would’ve come up with a plan in less than ten minutes and acting on their own, with Farley and Kilorn’s help, they would’ve rescued her. In general, KC and WS’s events would’ve taken much less time, to the point that I think they could’ve been a single book.

What if Elara had survived and what if Maven had a kid with Iris

There are two different options to this question: Elara survives and returns to the role she had in GS or she’s captured by the Scalet Guard. With Elara to force her son's hand, and, let's face it, reign in his place, as she has always been a puppeteer, her whispers the threads she used to move her puppets, Maven’s reign would’ve been much more dangerous. First of all, I don't think she would’ve ever allowed her son to publicly offend the Samos, with the possibility that they would turn against them, but she would’ve created another complex scheme to kill Evangeline by putting the blame on the Scarlet Guard or on Cal's allies, for then team up with the Cygnets anyway, although I think the alliance would’ve been far less shaky with her to manage it and Iris would’ve been the condescending queen necessary to allow Maven to have the heir who would’ve made his position on the throne safer. Knowing her thirst for power she would still have sinned of arrogance and once Cenra died she would’ve attacked Tiora, obviously always in a subtle way and by putting the blame on someone else, so that Maven's son would become heir to Norta and the Lakelands, creating a single, large state. Without Elara's whispers if Maven and Iris had had a child it would have been through an act that bordered on rape, and once things had gone as they went in WS I'm not sure Iris would’ve brought the baby with her in the Lakelands therefore he would’ve ended up exiled, as it happened in the past with children in uncomfortable positions, in Prairie. On the other hand, if Elara had survived but had been captured by the Scarlet Guard, she would’ve died anyway as I don't think that, although those closest to the Mare would’ve proposed it, an exchange would’ve ever been made between them, Command too conscious of her political power and of the danger that the woman's ability entailed.

What if Cal had said no in KC

Assuming you are talking about rejecting the crown, surely there would’ve been less romantic drama in WS, at least until Maven's death, but things would’ve been politically much more difficult since, if Cal had abdicated before his brother's death, Maven would’ve been the actual heir and it wouldn’t have helped anyone, so he should’ve accepted the crown anyway to convince the Silvers to join the cause and at the same time make Maven illegitimate while only a limited circle should’ve known that his effective intent was to abdicate once the kingdom was reunited, perhaps with a lot of signed documents as I can't imagine the Scarlet Guard base the outcome of the war on another Silver prince’s word after Maven’s betrayal. But if he had actually refused they would’ve had to fight not Maven’s kingdom but monarchy in general, therefore losing the support of many Silver, although I am convinced that they would still have been able to win, although probably with many more dead, thanks to the help from Montfort and a couple of allies convinced that Cal's decision was wise, probably the Lower Houses and common Silvers who would’ve benefited from the abolition of the monarchy and racial laws

What if Montfort was involved with the SG before RQ’s events

It would make complete sense because the SG’s purpose is to obtain a government like Montfort’s. Obviously, even in this case, things would’ve been much faster and much safer and the saga would’ve been much shorter, not to mention the fact that newbloods are not new there and therefore the SG could’ve started talking about Reds with abilities much earlier, which would’ve given Norta’s Red population much more courage.

What if Mare accepted Montfort's offer in GS

In hindsight, it would’ve made sense as they would’ve attacked Corros prison much better prepared, not to mention the fact that Mare is a wonderful trainer, so she would’ve had the best team ever. Also the electricon squad really has too little space in the saga while I would’ve liked to see them bond further.

What if Mare wasn't captured by Maven

Again there are several options: if Maven had captured the others but Mare had managed to escape she would still have tried to negotiate for that exchange, once she realized she had no other way to save them, while if he killed all of them the entire outcome of the war would’ve been different since Cal would’ve died leaving Maven as the rightful king, not to mention the profound psychological damage Mare would’ve faced after she left most of her friends, family and her boyfriend to die. The last option is that they weren’t intercepted at all and managed to get to the Choke, but the possible outcomes are too many to be analyzed and the various results would’ve incredibly modified the subsequent books in completely different ways. Honestly, if I can dream and not force Mare to endure captivity, I would’ve liked if she and others had managed to escape but someone, including a person she cared about but not Cal, since this would’ve made things more difficult, had been captured. Maven would try to organize some kind of exchange and Mare would accept but all the others would prevent her, showing her that she wasn’t selfish to save herself and reminding her that she isn’t only a weapon but also a powerful political pawn. Obviously Maven, keeping his word, would’ve killed the hostages and this would’ve hurt Mare but certainly less than being imprisoned at his mercy.

What if Maven survived

I think that @elane-in-the-shadows has written something about it and I recommend you take a look at her blog because I think it's exactly how things should’ve gone but if I'm wrong about the author and someone knows what fanfiction I'm talking about (where Maven escapes before Mare could find him) feel free to let me know and I’ll add the link here because it’s a masterpiece

What if Tiberias Vl died before RQ

If he died of natural causes just before RQ Cal would’ve been king and would’ve listened to what Julian claimed Elara did, and he would probably have read his mother's diary before, consequently exlingin her or killing her if he considered it the only possible option to please everyone without certainly considering that Maven could’ve acted against him as, and it’s stated repeated several times, Cal is definitely blind about his brother therefore the saga would’ve been mainly about Maven who wants revenge and consequently the throne for which his mother had fought so much and performed such horrible acts. I can already imagine Maven saying he can marry Evangeline in Cal’s place so that he can stay with Mare when he’s just plotting with Volo Samos for the Kingdom of the Rift to split from the rest of Norta and then launches a consequent attack to conquer it entirely, promising peace between their kingdoms and a legitimate throne for House Samos. If Tiberias VI died instead shortly after Maven’s birth Elara would’ve tried to control Cal as she did with Maven but according to the bloodline the regent would’ve been Julian, therefore it wouldn’t have ended well for her anyway, which is why I consider that the plan devised in RQ tremendously brilliant since it contemplates years of waiting but strikes at the right time, so much so that many High House believed the story woven by her and supported her son, at least as long as she was there to control him and make him seem less insane.

What if Mare didn't fall into the arena

If we want a similar story she could’ve shown her ability when she and Cal first met and they could’ve tried to analyze and understand it with Julian without Mare having to be Mareena and meet Maven, which, in the long run, could’ve only benefit her and at the same time she and Cal could still have fallen in love while she still had the opportunity to help the Scarlet Guard, while if the question you ask me is "what would have happened if Mare had become a maid anyway and had never shown her powers, or at least not immediately" I think she and Cal would’ve had a clandestine relationship and she would’ve used it to learn as many things as possible to report to the Scarlet Guard until a life or death situation would’ve triggered her ability, making historical events not very different from those of the saga but erasing Maven's interest in her if not as a weapon to weaken his brother.

[yougottalovegameofthrones]

Almost Home Pt. 7 (Robb Stark x Reader)

A/N: Wowza, this one ended up being longer than I thought! But it’s pretty angsty, so get ready. XD  Thanks for reading!

-M <3

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I never knew how much love could hurt, until it finally did.  Every morning and every night that past following that dreadful encounter were bitter and painful. I could only wish that I had the sanctuary that I found in sleep.

At first, it seemed that Robb Stark felt the same pain as I did.  We saw each other nearly every day, and whenever our eyes met, the sense of loss lingered between us. His lips parted to speak, but I always found an excuse to leave before the words could be heard. My heart always told me to go back… go back to him and apologize for rejecting him so harshly a few weeks previous. 
But I didn’t.

In nearly every moment except for when I was in my chambers, I knew that Catelyn Stark was watching, whether if it was through her own eyes or through one of the many people working around Robb and I.

If we were to be caught together again… my life would be over. And although my life was not much at this moment in time, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing it to… that ogre, Ser Larris Smallwood.  Who knew what he would do to me before he ended it all?

With the potential dangers that came with even talking to Robb, I couldn’t risk it. And as much as my heart hurt for watching his face fall every time I said I had to leave,  it was for the best. He would find happiness again… in someone who truly deserved it.

“Y/N, once you finish starting the bath, would you please come join me out here?” Catelyn Stark called from her perch on the balcony, her voice almost humorous as the words left her lips.

“Yes, my Lady.”  I finished what she required before walking to stand by her side. “What is it?”

“I want you to look down there, and tell me what you see.”

My eyes followed her extended hand, and my heart began to ache at the sight of Robb down bellow, laughing with a group of men. “My Lady, I thought you didn’t want-“

“I asked you to look.” Her tone was more clipped. “Look again.” 
When my eyes fell back to the group of men bellow, I noticed that a maiden was now amongst them. Her hair was long and tied back into a braid, her dress covering her body modestly, and the charming smile on her face drawing all of the men in… and from the looks of it, she seemed to be catching Robb’s attention as well.

If my heart had been hurting before, it was nothing compared to how it was feeling now. Shattered, crushed, split in two. A lump grew in my throat as I watched the woman approach Robb and begin to speak with him, her hand moving to rest on his arm before slowly moving up to his chest.

“Her name is Lady Lylian Wythers.” Catelyn Stark’s voice commented quietly, but contently. “I have a feeling that she will make my son very happy.”

My body frozen in place, unable to move as I watched Lady Lylian draw closer to Robb, eventually leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.  My head began to spin, my eyes growing blurry with tears that I so desperately wanted to shed, and my hands began to shake.

After a few moments, Robb pulled away from the kiss and looked up towards where Catelyn and I stood. His face went slightly pale and he began to move towards where we were, but his mother grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back into the confines of her room.

“He may of thought that he found his happiness in you…” She whispered in my ear, her grip on my arm tightening. “But it turns out that any young woman can make a King happy.” She let me go. “Off to bed.”

I slipped out of her room and walked down the hall, praying to the Gods that I would not encounter Robb Stark in the way. Another hand grasped onto my arm and pulled me to the side, causing me to gasp. I came face to face with none other than the King of the North.

“What is it with you Starks about pulling people around by their limbs?” I snapped, yanking myself free from his grip.

“Y/N….” His voice was soft, as if he was afraid to break me with his words.

“What?!” At that point, the idea that I was talking to the King of the North did not matter. I was angry. No, I was beyond angry. I was devastated, and it would take more than a few kisses and gentle words to heal this wound.

“I didn’t know you were there.” Robb’s eyes were lit with remorse, and I had to restrain myself from feeling sympathy for him at this moment.

“So you would’ve kissed her if I wasn’t there, then?”

“I didn’t want-“

“Do not give me that load of bullshit, Robb Stark.” Judging by the surprised expression on his face, I don’t think he knew I had the confidence to say that sentence to his face. “You seemed perfectly content with having a pretty young Lady kissing you.”

“I don’t want her!” His voice was exasperated, and I rolled my eyes.

“Who do you want then, Robb? Or what, to be more exact? If it’s pleasure you want, I’m sure there are plenty of young women who would love to visit you in your chambers.”

For a split second, anger crossed his face.. But after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards his chambers, despite my protest. Once the door closed behind us,Robb turned around and pulled me into his embrace, pressing his lips against mine eagerly.

Without even thinking, I found myself kissing him back and the sound of satisfaction that Robb made had me wanting this moment to last forever. But after a few moments, he pulled away, his eyes gazing down at me wearily. “Does that give you your answer?”

“I don’t deserve you.” I shake my head sadly, and his eyes grow hard.

“Has my mother been telling you that again? Is that what she said to you the night that you ran from me?”

“And other things.” My eyes fall to the floor, but his fingers tipped my chin up, forcing me to look up at him.

“What other things?” Robb’s voice was gentle, and I felt the wall I built up around myself slowly begin to crumble.

“She wrote a letter to my family, telling them that I abandoned them because I didn’t want to marry, and of my location. Your mother said if I continued to be with you, that the letter would be sent out immediately, and my fate would rest in the hands of…” I shivered slightly. “My husband.”

It was silent for a few moments, and I looked back up at Robb. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were ablaze with anger. My hands moved to cup his face and his eyes met mine again. “You cannot tell confront her about this.”

“Why not?” His tone was filled with disbelief.

“She will still send out the letter. I’m sure she made plenty of other copies in the incident that you found out.”

“Even if she is my own mother…” His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I cannot stand for her to use her power to mistreat people that way. If she sends the letter, I will not let that man take you away. I’m the King of the North.”

“I don’t think this man will play fairly.” I whispered quietly. “He might come when we aren’t ready. Maybe even in the middle of night.”

“That’s why I need to confront my mother, and that is why you will be staying in here with me from now on.”

“But-“

“No buts.” Robb shook his head gently. “Your safety is not something to argue about. And at this rate, my mother will eventually find out again about us. I’d rather know you are safe than risk it by sending you back to your chambers.”

I let out a small sigh, and nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m glad you didn’t try to argue with me this time. “ A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “It would’ve been a much lengthier conversation if you had.”

“I’d rather not argue with you anymore. It’s a rather nasty affair.”

“I agree.” Robb leaned down and kissed me gently before adding, “I’ll talk to my mother in the morning. For now, I think we should get some rest. “

—-

The old man  had watched from afar as Robb stopped the handmaiden down the hall, his voice hushed but desperate. Eventually, the King of the North had taken her back to his chambers, and that led the old man towards Lady Stark’s chambers.

“My Lady… I have news.”

“I hope it’s good. I was just getting into bed.” Catelyn Starks voice was irritated as she approached the door to find the man standing there. “What is it?”

“Your son took your handmaiden back to his chambers. They were fairly quiet in their conversations, but I don’t think it’s good, My Lady.”

Catelyn Stark retreated silently back into her room, grabbing the addressed letter off of her table before turning back to the old man at the door. “Give this to the fastest rider, and get him on his horse, now. I want that letter delivered before sunrise.”

“Yes, my Lady.” The man nodded before disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. Catelyn shut the doors, shaking her head with a smile as she walked back towards the bed. She had given that young girl a chance to make a life her. But she had made one too many mistakes, and for that… she would have to pay the price.

[awolfhasnoname]

Her Hound, His Wolf

PART SIX

A/N: I have FINALLY found time to write another chapter for this, sorry to keep you waiting guys! Ive just finished Uni exams so this will give me more time to continue these series. Thank you so much for the patience.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Violence, Usual GoT warnings

Words: 1.6K

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or gif(s) used below.

Y/N’s twin brother Robb has progressed and fought harder than anyone had thought, but she knew he would. She believed in him, they were even calling him the Wolf King, stories started streaming in about him turning into a dire wolf at night. No doubt thanks to Grey Wind constantly being at his side. The stories made Y/N giggle, she couldn’t wait to tease him about it when she saw him again. If she ever saw him again.

Although she was so proud of her brother, his advances hadn’t made it any easier on the Stark sisters stuck in the clutches of the Lannister’s.

Y/N were being called to court today no doubt because of the most recent attack by Robbs army.

Y/N went to answer a knock on her door, expecting to be greeted but the usual hulking figure she was surprised to see another guard standing there. “I’m here to escort you to court, lady Y/N.”

The walk to court was slow, she knew what was coming, this would be the beginning of the end of the Stark girls’ days at Kings Landing.

Y/N froze as the sight in court came into view, Sansa was already on her knees in front of the king, a small pool of blood coming from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes then travelled to Sandor, standing as always beside his king, his expression as cold and unrevealing as always.

“Ah finally, Lady Y/N,” Joffrey called, a devious grin on his face and a loaded crossbow in his hands. “You’re both here to answer for your brothers’ latest treasons.” He raised the crossbow to point at Sansa, she began defending herself “Your grace, whatever my traitor brother has done I had no part, you know this, I beg you please.” Y/N hated how Sansa spoke about their brother, but she understood it was a matter of survival.

As Joffrey had Lancel read out the crimes against their brother Y/N stepped closer to the King, planting herself in between Sansa and the arrow pointed at her.

Sandor’s chest constricted, how was he supposed to protect this girl if she bloody insisted on putting herself in harm’s way every day.

Joffrey put the crossbow down but gestured for Ser Meryn Trant to continue the punishment, he raised his hand again. The hit knocked Y/N to the ground and she could faintly hear the mumbles and gasps from the crowd behind them. Her eyes remained cold, raised to the kings, his face plastered with the same grin, clearly happy for a new play thing to break in, “Sansa has had her punishment for today, take her back to her chambers,” a Knight came to help Sansa to her feet, her worried expression turned to her sister but Y/N only gave her a warm smile. Joffrey saw this and his anger grew, “You can mess this ones face up as much as you want Trant.” Another blow hit the side of her face, trying to stay as strong as possible. As the beating continued, Y/N kept her façade, giving nothing away but small whimpers. “Meryn, the lady is overdressed, unburden her,” Joffrey ordered Trant. The young wolf’s eyes found Sandor once more. She was surprised to see the anger on his face and his hand around the hilt of his sword, white knuckles showing the hard grasp against it.

Trant ripped the back of her dress leaving her shoulders and back exposed, as the garment began to fall down she grabbed it before she could be too revealed. Upon seeing this Trant gave her a swift kick in the ribs. All the air left her as she doubled over trying to regain some sort of breathing pattern. “Meryn, why don’t you show us how your new dagger performs?”

As he unsheathed his dagger he mumbled to you “this is for the tavern you Stark whore.”

Y/N regained her composure and looked up at her king with daggers in her eyes, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. She heard Sandor shift at the King’s side as if he was taking a step forward but she didn’t move her gaze. Just then the doors to court swung open “What is the meaning of this!” Joffrey’s eyes shot to the back of the court as Tyrion strides through the room. Y/N’s eyes flick to Sandor seeing a flash of relief before his usual scowl replaced it but his grip had lightened on his sword.

Tyrion turned to Meryn, “What kind of knight beats a helpless woman?” “The kind that serves his king,” Meryn spat back.

“Someone get the girl something to cover herself with,” Tyrion announces before turning to the King. Sandor was by the Stark girls’ side in an instant ripping the cloak from his back and draping it around her. “Yer okay little wolf,” he whispered before helping you stand.

“Hound, take the lady back to her Chambers,” Tyrion commands before giving her an apologetic look.

Sandor helps the young wolf walk until they are out of sight, he then places his arm beneath her and lifts her bridal style to carry her back to her chambers. She simply rests her head against him, not having any more fight left in her today.

Sandor placed her on her bed, he looks at her and opened his mouth before thinking better of himself, she hadn’t missed it though. “Go ahead, tell me I’m a stupid girl with a death wish or whatever it is today that I’ve done wrong.” He simply sat next to her cleaning the cut on her cheek, “Not today, little wolf.”

She eyed him carefully, this was the first time they had spoken since the day she had embarrassed herself in front of him. He noticed the glance but continued attending to the cuts and bruises on her face. “Are ya ever gonna talk to me again?” he questioned but she refused to meet his gaze. After another moment passed he spoke again “Aye, I keep forgetting how fucking stubborn you are.” She couldn’t help the small smile that graced her face, which in return brought a smile to Sandor’s lips. “I’m sorry for the other day…” she finally speaks. Sandor just continues as if he hadn’t heard, hoping to avoid that conversation.

She continued when he hadn’t responded, “I shouldn’t have assumed that it was okay…” trailing off again as this time he turned to stare at her. “You were upset and hurt, I was comforting you. It was just reaction and I didn’t want you to do something you would regret.”

She looked at him in slight disbelief, “Sandor, I didn’t try to kiss you because I was upset. Is that what you think?” he looked away then. “Why else would a girl like you want to kiss an old dog like me?” The pain in his tone hurt her deeply, she grabbed his chin and turned his face to look at her again.

“I wish you could see yourself, the way I see you.” Y/N spoke so softly as if she thought Sandor would spook at any given word. Her hand reaching up to stroke the side of his face that he hated so much which in turn caused him to tense under the feather light touch. Sandor grabbed her hand before looking her in the eye, “Y/N don’t, you don’t want this. You don’t want me.” His voice was stern but she could see the pain in his eyes, all she wanted was to take that pain away.

“I have to go. The boy cunt will be expecting me back at his side.” Sandor removed his hand from hers, leaning back slightly to create some space between the two. Y/N just sighed, used to the feeling of his rejections by now. She grabbed the cloak that was wrapped around her shoulders before practically throwing it him. “Can’t forget your precious Lannister cloak.” She spat as she moved to find something to change into, her broken dress barely covering her top half. Sandor couldn’t help but stare after her, her back fully exposed watching the way her figure curved. All he could do was stare after her in adoration, his gaze trailing every inch of skin he could see. Until his eyes focused on a few distinguishable marks on her back and he froze. The raised skin shining against the light hitting it, scarred lines marked her back in short slices. As soon as he was able to make out the small scars they disappeared as she placed a robe around her.

Y/N turned around and was surprised by the look on Sandor’s face, shock mostly but what worried her the most was the slight look of fear in his eyes. Then it hit her, she didn’t realize how exposed her back was. Pulling the robe around her tightly as if to hide herself even more her defenses rose again. “You can leave now Sandor. I can take care of the rest of the cuts. Thank you for bringing me back to my chamber.” Her tone was flat, almost cold. Sandor just took steps towards her and for the first time since they had known each other she backed away. Slowly he raised his hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. “I will never let anyone hurt you again little wolf. I promise you that.”

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[cleganegirl]

And So The Story Goes - Sandor Clegane/Reader

Hello! I absolutely LOVE your writings and I love Sandor Clegane so much! I'm so glad your blog is dedicated to him! Could I possibly request a writing where the reader is the eldest Stark sister, and she is in love with Sandor and they both admit their feelings for each other and consumate their love right before the Battle of Winterfell? Pretty please!!😁

Warning: Smutt and swearing....

The long night was drawing nearer, Winterfell your harm was up in arms, men and women preparing for another battle, saying bye to their loved ones, maybe for the last time, prepping the Castle for the oncoming attack, it was all bustle, yet, you stood at the top of the tower stairs, watching it all. Who would have thought you'd be back here. You younger brother Robb perished at the Red Wedding along with your mother, your fathers head was taken from his body at Kings Landing some months before your mothers' untimely death. Arya went missing for years, Rickon was murdered by Ramsey and Sansa, well, Sansa had seen horrors that no human should and yet she arose from those ashes, not a scared and timid rabbit as before but a burning and bright phoenix. You were the Eldest Stark daughter, you watched them over them all now they were back in Winterfell, even Jon whom your mother had detested, his heart was a Northman heart no matter where he was born. You watched as the Dragon Queen arrived with him, saw her beauty first hand but noticed the cruelty in her eyes, was she born with it or had she seen horrors too. Either way, your sympathy was with her. Her soldiers followed her through the gates, and with them a giant man upon a giant horse, you had recognised him immediately, the years hadn't been kind, he had more scars added to him and he seemed a little withered with age but he still made the air in your lungs escape, he still made the air seem incredibly dense, like you couldn't breathe no matter how hard you tried. Your hands would become clammy and no matter how confident you were you found yourself blushing like a child. Your memory of that day, of their arrival, was all that kept you going, the fact he was here, near you, somewhere made you feel safe but vulnerable at the same time. "Shouldn't you be down there with those clucking hens?" Sandor emerged from the shadows, he stood beside you, resting his hands on the fence in front of you both. "Clucking of hens," you repeated, "you assume I'll be wanting to help with their trivial tasks, I'm not one for cooking, sewing or whispering empty promises of safety." You turned to look at him, the side of his burnt face facing you as he carried on watching the people in the courtyard. "Aye, you were never good at that in Kings Landing little wolf, but you've grown since, grown very well." His head turned to look at you, his eyes trailing along the length of your body and back up to your face. "You've gotten older Dog but I'd still calm the war inside of you if you'd let me." Your voice was softer, you couldn't remain cold to him, no matter how hard you tried. "I thought that notion would have left your head a millennium ago, Little Wolf, this old dog can't learn new tricks now," he turned to leave, he wasn't used to maidens throwing themselves at him, and he couldn't process how to react without being a grumpy bastard. "Sandor!" Your voice cracked, your eyes watered with a distant memory of being left in Kings Landing by him many a year ago. "Don't leave, not tonight, don't leave me again!" He turned to look at you, his resolve dissolving at the pit of his stomach, the red-blooded male growing in his place, yet there was something else, something softer, something that wanted to push the strands of your hair behind your ears and whisper silly petty love songs into your ears. "Well, come here then little wolf," Sandor held his arms out for you. You took a run at him, a small jump at the end and he had carried you into the air, your legs locking around his hips as your lips crashed into his. His beard rubbed you raw and yet you didn't care, the swelling would ease all too quickly and tonight will be a distant memory, if you survived it that is. He carried you to your chambers, you didn't ask him how he knew where they were, it didn't seem to matter in the grand scheme of things, yet, here you were, lying on your fur throws, on your bed, your skirts pushed up against your hips as Sandor kissed your thighs gentle at first and then more vicious as he smelt the arousal from between them. "Sandor, I need to be honest, this... Is... My," you stopped, the embarrassment catching in your throat, Sandor looked up at you, over your skirts as he tried to figure out what you were saying. "My little wolf, you're a virgin? You haven't..." You nodded, "with another?" He added you nodded again, instead of carrying on with his mission between your legs he pushed himself up to face you. Inches away, his brown eyes searching yours, for a sign of some sort of practical joke, something to say that this was all at his expense, instead what he found was a teary look that told him all he needed to know, "You don't want me to be your first, I'm no lord or a Ser, I'm not even handsome, you get yourself dressed and find a pretty lad for a pretty lass." You shook your head, "That isn't what I'm after, Sandor, it's you and always has been, that's why I'm still intact, I waited, against all hope that I'd see you again so that I can say this to you." The air had gone dense again, there was nothing to inhale, you gulped, trying your best. It was tonight, tonight was your last chance, you'd never let him leave this room without knowing how you truly felt. "I love you, Sandor, and I always have." Your cheeks marooned with embarrassment as Sandor sighed, his cheeks mirroring your own red colour. "I love ya too, Little Wolf," and he wasted no more time, his lips claimed yours viciously. Teeth nipping at your lips, tongue dancing with your own in your mouth. His hand found the bunched up skirts again and dived in under them, he found your small clothes and pushed them to one side. His fingers all though they were thick and long were delicate and soft, his hands calloused and large knew exactly the amount of pressure to apply on to you. They rubbed small circles, left and then right, your back arched in pleasure,  the electricity flowing through you made you jerk and your limbs to shake, his gently, he slipped one finger inside of you, your moistness slicked his digit enough to allow easy entry, he curled it towards the ceiling, finding a hidden spot you knew nothing of, he stroked it as he rubbed the outside with his thumb and soon you were moaning as the electricity still serged through your body. Quicker and quicker his fingers moved, deeper and deeper the current ran through your body, you watched his face, as his eyes never left yours, you came on his hand, moaning his name, not the brutal nickname he was given by a spiteful ruler but the name his mother blessed him with and the name that left your lips most nights whilst you were alone in this bed. He brought his hand up to his face, he licked and sucked his fingers clean, obscenely smacking his lips, "I didn't think anything other than wine could taste this fucking sweet, Little Wolf." He bent and kissed you hard, the taste of him and the taste of you mixed together, you were the sweet to the tang of the wine still soaked onto his lips. You sat up onto your knees, "undress me, Sandor, please." He didn't need to be told twice, his need to devour the sight of you naked was too much, with fumbling hands no longer nimble and quick as they were at your most intimate of places he struggled to untie the bindings of your dress. "Fuck, fucking fuck sake, you ladies and your fucking dresses." He panted, exasperated at the thought of not being up to untie your dress as quickly as he'd like, "fuck it!" He took a handful of fabric in both of his large hands and pulled hard, the dress fell apart in the most dramatic of sounding rips, beads flying across the room, it pooled around your waist, your breasts bounced free from the corset bussom. "Fuck me," Sandor whispered at the sight of your skin, his hands reached out immediately, cupping a breast in each one, allowing them to sit in the palm of his hands for a few moments before following the softness down to your puckered nipples, his finger and thumb caught the plump bulbs in his between them, twisting and pulling them gently, enough to peak your arousal again, your moans following moments later. His head bent down to claim them between his lips, tongue flicking out to lick at them, alternating with sucking at them, you brought your hand down on to his crotch, you palmed him through his breeches, the size of him worried you, he was thick and long, how could you fit that into you? He must have caught the worry in your eyes, he had started to undress himself as he spoke, "Don't worry Little Wolf, I won't hurt you, not tonight anyway." He winked at you cheekily, you took this opportunity to push your dress out of the way since he was now fully undressed it was only right you copied too. You crawled up to where he sat, you had wanted to try this since Theon Greyjoy had mentioned it, but you were uncertain Sandor would enjoy it. You dipped your head before he could reject the idea and took him into your mouth, slowly at first, getting used to his size, your tongue swirled across the head of his cock, his hands tangled in to your hair, "fuck, girl, where did you learn that!" You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue stroking the head as you got to the tip and then to swallow the length as best as you could again, Sandor was moaning almost consistently, it went from moaning to groaning and a few growls. His hands were still bunched into your hair, he pulled your head up and away quickly, "fuck, I'd have blown my load if you had of carried on, I don't want that to be our first together," he rolled you both over, him on top of you as his hands rubbed your nipples again. Sandor lay on top of you, your legs wrapped around his waist, he lay his forehead against yours, as he thrust slowly into you. You groaned, your back arched involuntarily, and Sandor stilled instinctively, "if I'm hurting you, I'll stop." You shook your head, "it doesn't hurt terribly, just fuck me like you this will be our last night." Sandor bottomed out entirely, pushing his full weight onto his hands that were at your side, using his knees to steady himself he picked up a good pace, his thrusts steady and even, his eyes not leaving yours the entire time. His name was on your lips more times than your own ever had been. You bucked back into him when his thrusts weren't fast enough, grinding yourself against his pubic bone, enough to cause friction, to give you more stimulation and add what you'd hope would be more pleasure to him. His thrusts became shorter, faster, harder, his head had dipped into the crook of your neck, he grunted with each thrust, his own orgasm close almost as close as yours. He pushed hard into you once more, and unravelled the knot that had tangled in the pit of your stomach, "Oh, Sandor! I love you! Sandor, Sandor, Sandor." You screamed his name as your orgasm claimed your body, his followed behind, with a series of grunts, "Y/N, fuck," there was no declaration of love from his lips but you didn't need it, he had said it once tonight. You both lay quietly, the furs pulled up over your bodies, his hands caressing your shoulders as you lay with your head on his chest, neither of you said a word to each other. The company was all you both needed, no words, no gestures, just this, this moment of two souls becoming one. There would be no sleep for you both tonight, you thought, the castle will sleep for you both and tomorrow you will sleep in the arms of Sandor when the war is over. However, the castle didn't sleep either as the howling of a Wolf and a Hound haunted the cold winters night air.

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[evyiione]

Solace: Chapter Four

Summary: The story of Jaime Lannister and Y/N about how they escaped Cersei’s claws.

Warning: Angst, Fluff, mild smut

Pairing: Jaime x Fem!Stark!Reader

Reader's pronoun: She/Her

A/N: I hope Game of Thrones fans out there will like it!

Disclaimer: GOT belongs to G.R.R Martin and the HBO Company. I only own the story.

Masterlist

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CHAPTER 4: ALL NUANCES OF PAIN

PREVIOUSLY

“What is it?” you asked.

Suddenly, he got up, “I have to leave, if someone catches me, I might get executed…”

“Surely, they won’t if you explain what happened!” you said.

“I have to, my love. I swear I will come back when everything has quieted down.” He answered and kissed you once more. The kiss was more passionate than the last one as if he tried to convey every ounce of his feelings for you. You kissed back with a much passion, but you both knew it couldn’t last forever. His lips lingered one more minute on your lips, not wanting to part from you.

When you finally parted, he left not turning back, because he knew if he did, he would stay by your side.

A FEW DAYS LATER

Your father was getting better, though he seemed anxious, you didn’t know why, every time you asked him, he would either ignore you or tell you that not knowing was safer for you and your sisters. His worry increased when King Robert died, killed during a hunt. Well, the injury he suffered during the hunt is what killed him.

As soon as the King died, your father was arrested. You and Sansa tried to plead the new King Joffrey for mercy and for a moment you thought that he would show mercy and listen to his mother. But you soon understood that Joffrey was cruel and only wanted to destroy. The day your father was to be executed, one of the King's guards forced you to watch as the executioner’s sword descended upon your father neck and cut through it, severing his head from his body.

After the execution, everything was like a blur, the last thing you remember from that day is Joffrey forcing you and Sansa to watch the result of his barbaric act.

Subsequent to that fateful day, everything went south. You were not often allowed to be near Sansa. And so you were left to grieve alone. Not one day passed without wishing to be free, to be reunited with your family and in the arms of Jaime, whom you missed dearly.

With Jaime gone and Joffrey in power, your life has become hell. You felt as if you were walking in Limbo. However, you were soon reminded that you were still in that horrid place they call the Red Keep. Especially when you prevented the new King from beating Sansa. You pleaded to take her place, not wanting your little sister to suffer more than she already had.

Almost every day Ser Meryn Trant would beat you on Joffrey or Cersei’s orders. But you stayed strong, for Sansa and for Arya wherever she was.

You knew Arya was alive, she is a fighter, she wouldn’t go down easily and neither will you. The Starks are fierce, and a wolf would never bend the knee to a Lion.

Unfortunately, the pride you had for your house didn't lessen the pain. Your body hurt everywhere, your whole body was covered in bruises and cuts. Your mood and health were deteriorating rapidly. You barely ate and were alone most of the time, leaving you to fight your obscure thoughts.

Luckily, your mood was soon lifted when you received a letter from Jaime.

In the letter, he was telling you how much he missed you, and that he joined the Lannister army against your brother. You didn’t like this at all, you didn’t want Jaime or Robb to die.

Then the worst happened, the news of Jaime’s capture reached Kings Landing. You were afraid of what your brother would do to Jaime. You knew Robb had every right to hurt him... You were so conflicted, how can you choose between love and family? Life is sometimes unfair…

You were now alone in the darkness of your room, crying, for whom you didn’t know, Robb, Jaime or maybe you were crying for yourself and what your life had become?

“I shouldn’t have to choose…” you whispered and fell asleep crying.

The more time passed, the more worried you got. For Jaime, Robb and the North. But at least you knew Sansa was safe, you took it upon yourself to protect her no matter what. You realized that starving to death won’t help, so you started to eat again and took the beatings in silence.

What angered the King and Cersei more is that you never shed a tear. You stayed strong as if made of marble. A marble that could crack but never broke. You decided that if you had to suffer, you would not give Cersei and Joffrey the satisfaction of seeing you in pain.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Sansa was no longer to marry Joffrey. The both of you couldn’t be happier about it, she was one step closer to freedom. Margery of House Tyrell was now engaged to the King, well if you could call this half-brain a King.

Yet in some twisted plan to torture both Sansa and Tyrion, King Joffrey declared that the two of them were to marry. Although you didn’t like it, you knew that Tyrion was a good man, and would never do anything to her. Jaime never spoke ill of Tyrion once, he loved his brother, so you trusted him.

Of course, the icing on the wedding cake was the news you received a few days after the wedding. Everyone knew of the event of, as they like to call it, the “Red Wedding”. When you heard about this, your heart broke. In one day you had lost your brother, your mother, and apparently your unborn nephew.

Yet again, you had to grieve alone… You couldn’t even be there for Sansa. Cersei enjoyed seeing the two of you so miserable.

Cersei became even more ruthless when she sent Myrcella away to Dorne. Ever since her daughter was gone she didn’t hold back anymore, as if she needed a distraction from the aching that was created when she parted with her only daughter.

However, a ray of hope brightened your heart when Jaime finally came home. Or so you thought, when his arrival was announced, you were kept away from him, but from what little you could see of him, you saw that he was missing his sword hand and he seemed utterly defeated.

It had now been a few days since he came back, but every time you tried to talk to him, he ignored you and walked away. You didn’t know why... you thought he would be happy to see you after all this time apart. As you saw him with Cersei, thoughts went swarming into your head. Did he not love you anymore? Why did he seek comfort in Cersei and not you?

You tried to speak to him but he wouldn’t, so one night you sneaked up in his room.

“Jaime? Are you alone?” you called as you entered his room, and locked the door behind you.

“What are you doing here? Go away!” he exclaimed, but his voice was not too high as to not alert anyone. His statement hurt you.

“What is going on with you? Why do you ignore me? Do you not love me anymore?” you asked, but he stayed silent.

“Was it all a game to you? Was I just a distraction? Do you no longer desire me?” you asked, your voice quivering as tears streamed down your face.

Hearing how broken your voice was, he looked at you, and when he saw tears in your eyes he rushed to you, cradling you in his arm.

“No, never, I will always love you! You are not just a distraction, your every curve whet my desire. You are my life!” he said soothingly, kissing the crown of your head.

“Then why? Why are you ignoring me? Why didn’t you seek my comfort but Cersei’s?” you exclaimed.

“Because I thought you wouldn’t want me anymore! I am broken! I don’t have my hand anymore!” he exclaimed, frustrated.

“Do you think so low of me that I would reject you because you lost your hand? How could you think that? You are the only man I love and will ever love! I don’t care if you have both of your hands or not, what matters is who you are inside!” you said, placing your left hand on his heart.

“I’m sorry… I thought… That you wouldn’t want a man who couldn’t protect you anymore…” he confessed.

“Even if you don’t have your sword hand anymore, doesn’t mean you can’t fight anymore. You still have your other hand, you can learn to fight with that one. Besides, I thought I made it clear that I could defend myself” you said, looking at him with twinkling eyes.

Jaime laughed at your comment. “I know you can, but I swore to protect you.-” you cut him off with a kiss, which he eagerly answered back.

The kiss was getting heated, his hand roamed your body, wanting to feel every part of you. All this time apart, he has missed the feel of you against his body.

You placed an arm around his neck and gripped his hair. Jaime placed his hand under your thighs, he swiftly picked you up and walked over to his bed. When he reached it, he gently placed you on it, so he could hover over you.

As you felt the weight of his body on yours, you let out a moan. He started to undress you, and you did the same with his shirt. He went to place kisses down your neck, his hand slid to your waist and pressed you against him. And once more you let out a moan, but not a pleasured one. 

Jaime immediately moved back and got on his knees to look at you. What he saw shocked him. Your whole body was covered in bruises, some purple, some blue and some were in a sick yellow shade, along with various cuts.

Having forgotten about the state of your body, you looked up at Jaime in confusion, but then you remembered, and hastily tried to cover yourself.

His eyes darkened and he gently gripped your wrist.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, gripping your wrist to prevent you from covering up.

“Oh, this? I just fell down the stairs, don’t worry about it” you answered not meeting his gaze. He lifted your chin up so you would look at him in the eyes.

“I thought we swore to never lie to each other? Now please, tell me who did this to you” he demanded once more.

Looking down in shame, tears started to form.“Knights…” you said, still not wanting him to know the truth.

“On whose orders?” he asked. You stayed silent.

“It was Cersei, wasn’t it?” he asked in an angry voice. You nodded, giving up.

“And Joffrey, I took Sansa’s place. But please, don’t do anything about it, I can handle it, better me than my little sister,” you answered with a small smile, but your tears betrayed you.

“I should’ve been there to protect you! I should’ve stayed!” he exclaimed.

“Enough, don’t start with this again, I chose this fate. Besides now that you are here, I already feel better. I know everything will be alright.” you said and kissed him.

Jaime laid down and scooted closer to you. He put his handless arm around your waist and caressed your head with his hand until you both fell asleep.

Jaime wasn’t worried to get caught with you, he was an early bird so he would make sure you would be back in your quarters before anyone would notice.

Little did they know, a servant had heard everything and reported to Cersei immediately.

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5

[jonlovessansa]

THE SUMMERWINE

DISCLAIMER: In light of the recent leaks, and some consequent worry, I decided to reveal one of the clues I found in the books that confirms Jon/Sansa and at the same time PoliticalJon. It is neither the biggest nor the sweetest to me... but it is the first one I found, the one that allowed me to discover all the others, and since it basically does nothing but confirm the theory that we all supported in the past months, plus some recent spoilers, I think I won't ruin anyone's party by revealing it. Now, for those of you who rightfully prefer to watch the new season for confirmations, I'm going to put a wall here, you decide whether to look beyond to see the burning candle…

As we all probably know by now, GRRM loves his symbolism, and that often results in wondering what he is really talking about most of the time, what he’s hinting at, even if the answer is right there in plain sight. I’d say confusion is the main key for GRRM!

That's what happens with the wine and the scenes that involve the wine, by which we learn some important things that I think are no news for many of you. The show made some changes, but remaining in the books, I’m going to tell you briefly.

Starting with the ARBOR GOLD, that we find it’s linked to LIES. We’re informed directly by Littlefinger:

“We shall serve him lies and Arbor gold, and he’ll drink them down and ask for more, I promise you... You see the wonders that can be worked with lies and Arbor gold?” (AFFC - SANSA I)

And thanks to him, Sansa learns it too:

“Lies and Arbor gold, she thought. "I am Alayne, Father. Who else would I be?" .

But the examples are numerous: Baelish serves arbor gold while scheming and lying to his guests; Illyrio offers it to Tyrion while telling him the fake story of fAegon; fAegon says Varys gave a jug to fdeadAegon’s father for the hypothetical switching; Sansa and Tyrion drink it during their unconsummated wedding night; it’s the wine of Ramsey and fArya wedding… and so on.

Then there is the ARBOR RED, which is used to hide poisons and poisonous intentions: Joffrey drinks a poisoned cup before dying, Tyrion uses it to drug Cersei, Maester Cressen tries to kill Melisandre with a poisoned cup of it, only to be the one who ends up dead instead...

There’s still so much more to say, but let’s move on to the precise topic of this post.

The SUMMERWINE

RED. DORNISH. SWEET. SUMMER. WINE. 

Don’t you think it’s pretty clear what we’re talking about here just by reading that? But in AGOT King Robert spills the truth, GRRM way, to convince Ned to go to King’s Landing:

Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich." He laughed and slapped his own ample stomach a thump. "And the girls, Ned!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "I swear, women lose all modesty in the heat. They swim naked in the river, right beneath the castle. Even in the streets, it's too damn hot for wool or fur, so they go around in these short gowns, silk if they have the silver and cotton if not, but it's all the same when they start sweating and the cloth sticks to their skin, they might as well be naked." The king laughed happily. (AGOT - NED I)

The reference is clear for me: in King’s Landing you can find in every corner the easiest version of LOVE, the kind that you can find in one of the many brothels the city seems to be famous for...

With this important symbolism it’s interesting that in the books we have very few mentions of the SUMMERWINE, and only three times they are significant, all in A GAME OF THRONES: JON I, SANSA II, DAENERYS VI.

In both Jon and Sansa’s chapters the setting is very similar: there’s a feast (Winterfell’s Great Hall for King Robert / in King’s Landing for The Hand’s Tourney), the music of the singers (playing the high harp and reciting a ballad /filling the dusk with music), a knight (Jamie, the Lion of Lannister /Loras, a true knight), an uncle (Benjen /Jaime), a dog (the Hound/Ghost) and a fool (Robb, grinning like a fool /Moon Boy, the king's own fool). Among all these common ingredients, the best part is that Jon and Sansa both get drunk on summerwine for the first time. 

“(Joffrey) raised his hand to summon a servant with a flagon of iced summerwine, and poured her a cup... The servants kept the cups filled all night, yet afterward Sansa could not recall ever tasting the wine. She needed no wine. She was drunk on the magic of the night.” (AGOT - SANSA II)

Sansa is drunk on summerwine even if she doesn’t actually drink it, which means that she is only drunk on the promise of the beautiful life in front of her, like probably every sweet romantic child in her position. She’s not in love with Joffrey, she doesn’t know him at this point, she doesn’t know what a monster he is. She is in love with the idea of being in love with the Prince, being betrothed to him, becoming a Queen, of all her dreams of princesses and knights coming true. She is only drunk with the idea of summerwine!

But do you know who is realllllllly drunk in love on summerwine? Jon is! 

”He settled back in his place on the bench among the younger squires and drank. The sweet, fruity taste of summerwine filled his mouth and brought a smile to his lips... Down here on the benches, there was no one to stop Jon drinking as much as he had a thirst for. And he was finding that he had a man’s thirst, to the raucous delight of the youths around him, who urged him on every time he drained a glass... Jon had started drinking then, and he had not stopped... He swallowed another gulp of wine... Benjen Stark straddled the bench with long legs and took the wine cup out of Jon’s hand. “Summerwine,” he said after a taste. “Nothing so sweet. How many cups have you had, Jon?” Jon smiled. Ben Stark laughed. “As I feared. Ah, well. I believe I was younger than you the first time I got truly and sincerely drunk.” (AGOT - JON I)

The show, again, hid some important clues by not having Jon attending the feast, but what remains the same is his request to uncle Benjen to go with him to the Wall and so have a chance to be a knightly kind of honourable man (like Lord Royce son Waymar, just to pick someone at random...) even if he’s a bastard.

It’s also useful to point out that in this occasion, we see FOR THE ONE AND ONLY TIME IN ALL THE BOOKS, jealous Jon flourishing:

-“Joffrey, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon’s VAST DISMAY”;

-“Sansa looked RADIANT as she walked beside him”; “Prince Joffrey had his sister’s hair and his mother’s deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar… but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips“; but what he thinks of Jaime, who looks exactly like the young Prince? He was “tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife… Jon found it hard to look away from him. This is what a king should look like” (if Joffrey looks like Jamie and Jaime looks like a king, then Joffrey looks like a king too... just saying!)

From other POV we also learn that: 

-  while there’s a hunt with the king to provide a very wild boar for the feast, “Jon and his wolf were nowhere to be found”; “Jon seemed to be angry at everyone these days.” (BRAN) 

- when Jon gives Arya “Needle”, he explicitly tells her: “And whatever you do...” Arya knew what was coming next. They said it together “Don’t... tell... Sansa!”. But talking with Sansa about Prince Joffrey Aria says: “Jon says he looks like a girl”. (ARYA) I think he forgot to tell her to shut up this particular time!

How can I say it simply: 

JON HAS ALWAYS HAD FEELINGS FOR HIS SISTER

and that’s it! I know many of you don’t like the idea very much and I really wanted to make a post about it to get everyone on board because in the books there are interesting things on the matter (I still have hope for a flashback of little Jon and little Sansa). I didn’t for lack of time and some specific spoilers... (if you want you can read HERE and HERE where I explain it a tiny bit), but remember that they were children, both in love with the stories of chivalry and heroism, it’s easy to think that sweet little Sansa was his precious jewel to protect, like she probably was for Robb; in the purest way, the same way your older brother is your hero when you’re a baby girl.

But then the “bastard” word came in and everything changed: Jon, already rejected from Catelyn, the only mother he’s ever known, was forced to distance himself from both of them, and probably started to develop not less pure but different feelings, born primarily from an instinct of love and protectiveness that he couldn’t possibly satisfy. That’s when it all became muddled. And, well, he has Targaryen blood in his veins…

But let’s see what happens in DAENERYS VI so I can close this case. I sum up the important part because it is too long:

At the WESTERN market Dany comes across a wine merchant: a small man from Lys (known as LYS THE LOVELY and THE PERFUMED SISTER), slender and handsome, his flaxen hair curled, who has a sweet red from Dorne that sings of plums and cherries and rich dark oak; he says: “A cask, a cup, a swallow? One taste, and you will name your child after me”. “I will try your summerwine,” she says. But then the merchant realizes that she is THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS and responds to her: “That? Dornish swill. It is not worthy of a princess. I have a dry red from the Arbor, crisp and delectable. Please, let me give you a cask …there is no finer drink.” She accepts: “You honor me, ser.” But Jorah stops her and says “I have a thirst” and sniffs the wine, frowning. It turns out that the wine is poisoned because King Robert wants her dead: “No. He cannot have my son.. The Usurper has woken the dragon now” she told herself, and her eyes went to the dragon’s eggs resting in their nest of dark velvet… Was it madness that seized her then, born of fear? Or some strange wisdom buried in her blood? Dany could not have said. She heard her own voice saying, “Ser Jorah, light the brazier.”  

Sooooo…..

A SLENDER and HANDSOME man with CURLED HAIR and SMALL of stature,

who comes from THE LOVELY and PERFUMED SISTER

offers Daenerys a swallow of his sweet red Dornish wine, i.e. SUMMERWINE, i.e. LOVE, promising her a child named after him. 

But knowing she’s the MOTHER OF DRAGONS

what he really intends to give her is a poisoned ARBOR RED, which comes FROM THE REACH. 

She has no reason not to trust the courteous man, she is HONORED that he thinks she deserves his most precious load

So she accepts his offer. But Jorah, who has A THIRST like the man’s thirst Jon had the night of the feast when Sansa looked RADIANT and he was jealous,

senses that something is wrong. He is right. So she goes berserk: “HE WON’T HAVE MY CHILD” (I let you decide if she is symbolically speaking of a baby or a dragon), a MADNESS seizes her… and so she decides it’s time to LIGHT A PIT...

Sounds familiar?

Enjoy the new season guys...

Thanks for listening!

P.S. All the gifs are from GOOGLE

[jonsastan]

A Week of Jonsa - @incorrectjonsansa

Day 1 -

You look like a movie, you sound like a song

.

Jonsa Pride and Prejudice Au.

Sansa smiled at Arya’s scowl as she’s whisked around the dance floor. Arya was annoyed at the amount of gentlemen who had asked for her hand in a dance. She should be complimented. At this dance ladies greatly outnumbered gentlemen. Robb and their new neighbour, Daenerys Targaryen, danced past Sansa, Robb smiling as he made Daenerys laugh. They would be a good match. She was the sister of some southern Lord and Robb was the heir to their father’s estate. A good match, as her mother kept insisting.

After a turn about the room, Sansa found herself near Daenerys’ quiet nephew, Jon. After a moment Daenerys came to her nephew.

“Come now Jon! I must have you dance! You cannot hang out in this stupid manner.”

“You know I do not enjoy dancing, especially with someone who I am not well acquainted with.” Jon replied.

“Look, there! That’s one of Mr Stark’s sisters! She extraordinarily beautiful, dance with her.” Daenerys was gesturing to Sansa, but Sansa made no sign that she could hear them.

“She is tolerable, I suppose.” came the cold voice of Jon Targaryen. “But not handsome enough to tempt me. Go, enjoy the charm of Robb Stark, your enthusiasm is wasted on me.”

Sansa suppressed a smile. Many would be insulted by this stranger’s harsh words but Sansa found amusement at this southern lords high handedness. She made her way calmly past him toward Arya, who was sitting out, to tell the joke.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was with the greatest annoyance that Sansa allowed Jon Targaryen to be announced to her. She had begged off visiting his Father and Daenerys’ Brother, Rhaegar, but was now trapped with the more brooding of the two Targaryen sons.

He entered and began to converse about banal topics of her health and the weather, before kneeling before her.

“In vain I have struggled, it will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” His voice began strong and assured, but soften at the end of his sentence. His grey eyes stared at hers and she felt her heart clench.

When he continued, she felt rage rise within her.

“Despite the history between my family and yours, despite the behaviour of your brothers and sister and even your father, despite the disparity between our stations in life, I wish to marry you.”

Sansa took a deep breath and rose from her seat, moving away from him and his emotive eyes.

“If I could feel gratitude now, I would thank you. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. Please forgive me if I have given you any cause to believe that my affections were engaged or your to be encouraged, it was unconsciously done.” Her hands were clenched, her anger boiling beneath her cool exterior.

He moved to the mantle and took a breath. His eyes were filled with anger, confusion, pain.

“And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected.” His voice burnt with anger.

“I might enquire with so little attempt to hide your own disdain for my character, family, and station you resolve to tell me you like be against your will! Was this not reason enough for any perceived incivility?” She snapped, turning to face him, her fists still clenched at her side. “Had my feelings toward you been neutral or even favourable, even those feelings would have died when you stole the happiness of a most beloved brother? And what of your crimes against Gendry Waters? Do you deny that you have revealed in his misfortune, in the scandal of his birth?”

“Yes, his misfortune. It is great indeed.” Jon all but scoffed.

“And now you ridicule him!”

“And this is your opinion of me?” Jon strode toward her, stopping mere inches from her person. “My faults by your calculation are great indeed, but perhaps they would not be so foul had I not insulted your pride by acknowledging the failings of your family or your status. Perhaps if I had flattered you, hidden my misgivings and lied about them you would have felt differently, But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence!”  He all but spat at her.

“You are mistaken, Mr Targaryen, if you believe the mode of your address could have affected my answer in any way. You have merely saved me any worry I might have felt at rejecting you had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner. I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I merely wish to clarify some of the egregious charges laid before me by you.

You first charged me with the destruction of happiness of a most beloved brother. I had not been in Winterfell long when I saw, along with others, Daenerys’ preference to your brother above all others. I watched and observed their interactions and whilst Mr Robb Stark showed polite deference and cordiality to Miss Targaryen, I saw no unique favour or love. So to save a most beloved family member pain and heartache I separated the two.

If I was mistaken in my understanding of your brothers feelings, I apologise heartily and completely. I can offer the only defence that if the feelings between our two family members had been as powerful and consuming as you believe, a mere separation would not have hindered them.

The second charge you laid before me was my treatment of Gendry Waters. I will not deny that I have not acted to aid Mr Waters in his path in life, nor do I intend to. His family, having been closely entwined with my own, disgraced themselves thoroughly when they attempted to steal property, assets, and titles with a selfish motive. I have revealed in the bastard nature of Mr Waters birth when I was younger, and whilst I can see how this is an immature means of gloating, I cannot feel sorry for this. Mr Waters has shown himself to be a man of trade and mean understanding. He does not attempt to rise above his birth and better himself but will rely on the sympathy and pity of others. This behaviour is abhorrent to me.

If you have any doubts about the truth of the history between my family and Mr Waters, or the personal history between myself and that man, you may apply to my brother for a complete narrative. Although we have clashed and been at odds, I have always been honest with you.

I will end by saying I mean you no ill will and wish you all the best in your life.

Gods Bless and keep you.

Jon Targaryen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And to think, I could have been mistress of all this.” Sansa sighed as she took in the extensive and beautiful grounds of Dragonstone. There was a range to please all, manicured lawns, neat and tidy gardens, and a kind of rugged wilderness that reminded Sansa of Winterfell and the North.

She had met Jon Targaryen there. It was a complete accident and at first, Sansa thought, a complete misfortune. He was drenched from an impromptu swim in his pond, and she was flustered, not wanting him to think she was vying for his attention. But as she had attempted to make her hurried escape, he had found her and invited her parents to stroll with him around the gardens. He had offered her kindness, and thoughtfulness, he had talked with her parents, discussed the present state of politics with her father and chatted knowledgeably about gardens with her mother.

They had been staying near Dragonstone for a couple of days, a tentative friendship being cultivated between Jon and herself, when the letter came from Robb. Arya had run off with Gendry Waters and Robb didn’t know where she had gone.

Jon had found her when she had read the letter. He had offered her support and care, sending for her parents, and then he’d left. And her heart ached. Ached for her sister, who may be lost, ached for her parents, and the worry they would suffer, ached for Jon Targaryen and the love that would never be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arya had returned from Kings Landing, as Arya Waters. Gendry had never had any ignoble intentions. He’d wanted to stay at Winterfell and plead with their parents to allow Arya to marry him. Arya had not wanted to wait, had not wanted permission. She wanted to marry Gendry and she had.

Her parents had been displeased and worried, having travelled half the countryside to find the couple before a scandal could emerge, but finally Gendry and Arya had turned up in the Vale as Mr and Mrs Waters.

It wasn’t until Arya was back in Winterfell and attempting to settle her life that she spoke of Jon.

“And Mr Targaryen was most kind once Gendry explained how he did not want to have anything to do with the Baratheons and their ridiculous attempt to-”

“Mr Targaryen?” Sansa interrupted. Arya nodded.

“He was at our wedding. He helped get Gendry capital to start the forge and offered to aid any venture Gendry would like to have in the south. He thought Gendry wanted to take over where Robert Baratheon had left off, but Gendry told Mr Targaryen that he had no such plans, he wanted to work hard and honestly and Mr Targaryen seemed to approve.”

“Mr Targaryen helped you wed? Helped Gendry raise capital?” Sansa felt all the breath leave her lungs. Her heart swelled at the generosity, the empathy, the open mindedness that Jon Targaryen must have shown to approach and aid Gendry and Arya, her heart shuddered at the thought that he was exposed further to the scandal and unconcern her family showed to society.

“He was most kind. He also mentioned that Daenerys and himself might be returning to the neighbourhood soon.” Sansa’s heart leaped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I will not have it Miss Stark, I will not.” Rhaegar Targaryen had spoken with a frank and almost callous manner. “Jon has been promised to his Martell cousins since birth. It was his grandfather’s greatest wish. You are not his equal in either status or breeding and I will not have it!”

“Excuse me sir! To what are you referring?” Sansa snapped, her blood boiling, her voice cooling.

“This preposterous rumour that you have engaged yourself to my son. I will not have it Miss Stark. It is impossible. Jon is man of breeding and status-”

“He is a gentleman, I am a gentleman’s daughter, thus far was are equal.” Sansa stood tall, determined not to be intimidated by this man.

“But you do not deny it! You do not deny that you are attempting to ensnare my son!”

“You yourself have declared such a union impossible!”

“Do you deny it? Are you engaged to my son?” Rhaegar’s face was turning an alarming shade of red.

“No.” Sansa said, her voice firm, her heart aching a little at the truth.

“And can you promise me to never engage yourself to him?” Rhaegar's colour was beginning to fade.

“No.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robb had wasted no time once Daenerys Targaryen had resumed residence around Winterfell. He had called on her and Jon and asked for her hand in marriage. It was a most joyous occasion. In the days following Sansa found herself in the company of Jon an awful lot, but never alone. She wished to thank him for the service he had rendered to her family.

Finally, as Robb and Daenerys strolled in front of them Bran said he was going to go and visit with Meera and Jojen Reed, leaving Jon and Sansa to chaperone the engaged couple.

It was a moment before Sansa mustered up the courage to speak.

“Mr Targaryen, I am a selfish creature and as such will give myself relief, even it means exposing you to embarrassment.” She dared not look at him, at those grey eyes that seemed to know her very being. “Thank you, for you assistance in securing the happiness to one beloved sister and one beloved brother. You have done my family a great service. Thank you sir.”

“If you must thank me, let it be for yourself alone.” She stopped and looked at him. His voice was tender, vulnerable. “As much as I have come to admire and respect your family, I believe I thought of you alone.” Her breath hitched in her breast and her heartbeat so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.” His eyes suddenly would not meet hers. He stared at his feet.

“My affections have changed so much since then. They are now quite opposite.” Jon’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers. They were filled with such joy, such hope, such love that Sansa could not help the giggle that seemed to overflow from her lips. She turned from him, not trusting herself to not act in a manner most compromising and attempted to uncover the evolution of his feelings.

“How did you know my feelings were not the same?” She asked.

“My father.” He chuckled at this. “He was most displeased after his attack upon you. When he told me you refused to promise never to engage yourself to me… It taught me to hope, as I had never hoped before.”

Sansa let her fingers brush his and before she realised what she’d done, their hands were entwined.

“But how did you begin?” She asked, not acknowledging their clasped hands as they walked. “I can see you continuing charmingly once you had fallen, but I cannot grasp or comprehend a beginning.” She teased.

“I cannot fix upon the hour, or the spot, or the look that laid the foundation. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun.” He murmured, his voice full of emotion and tender care. Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the sweet words that her love had whispered to her and her alone. “And what of you? When did your feelings alter so drastically?”

Unable to resist teasing him she replied “Upon seeing the grounds of Dragonstone.” Jon laughed and Sansa decided she wanted to hear that sound everyday for the rest of her life.

[chininja]

Robb/Dacey, she should have known better than to love him

Positioned with his head on her breast, his eyelashes fluttering against her chest like a butterfly's kiss, Dacey sees none of the king and only the boy. Only Robb.

They separated a moon back, each headed to a different part of the realm - him to campaign with his lady mother and her into battle. It was foolish of Dacey to think that when they returned, it would be into each other's arms. A young girl's fancy when she hasn't been one in ages.

She wishes she'd had been unaffected, but gods. It stung to see her king, her Robb, with the arms of a slip of girl around him. A girl from the Westerlands nonetheless.

But Dacey knew her duty, and she knew her place.

No matter that she feels only slightly disappointed in herself, that she has once again allowed a man to fall into her bed only to seek another woman's cunt when their cock grows lonely. She is a Mormont of Bear Island, not some delicate flower from the North. She knows intimacies can take place without ever having to worry about the certainty of marriage; knows her worth no longer lies in her maidenhood than a man's does in his pretty words.

Yet, Dacey thought she knew what she entered in when Robb Stark visited her tent all those moons ago.

Just as naive as they come, she thinks to herself - fingers raking through auburn curls, tangling one in her index and tugging lightly. You have turned me into a fanciful girl, Robb Stark, she whispers softly against the crown of his head. And I only hate you a little for it.

Dacey can't find it in herself to hate this boy king's audacity to fall back into bed with her when his wife sleeps in his own tent. Not when she knows this is likely the last time they will ever have together.

Her king stirs, lashes fluttering awake to reveal clear blue eyes - vulnerable and adoring of her. Dacey smiles, her sadness only seeping through a little but enough to dim the light in Robb's face.

"You can't be here anymore, Your Grace," a polite rejection of his presence as though neither of them are fully nude, warm skin touching warm skin.

Robb raises his head to look at her and opens his mouth, Dacey thinks to protest. But he lets his head fall back on the pillow, the fight leaving his body and Dacey knows he understands the wisdom behind her words.

He gets up slowly, and dresses up slower than that, and all Dacey can do is watch. (She pinches her leg to keep herself from doing something dumb like take back her words, and for the moment it is enough to ground her to the reality of their situation.)

When he fastens his cloak and moves towards the flap of her tent, Dacey sees his fist clench around his furs.

"I never meant to hurt you," he says so quietly Dacey almost missed it.

"I know."

"I do love you and if we were not at war -"

"Please, Your Grace," she interrupts him. "There is no use dreaming of another world or another time." She shrugs her shoulder to punctuate her words. It isn't that she wishes for him to see that this affects her little, but Dacey has lived long enough to know that the world does not owe a person anything, and wishing for things to go the way one wants to is simply a waste of time.

"Dacey," he trails off.

"I know, Robb," an upturn of her lips.

"I love you too."

It was the most honest, the bravest she has ever been - including being in battlefield - and this is the only way she wishes her king to remember her: daring.

[carbonitekisses]

We can be human together.

Link to AO3:

“You’re not Father’s son. You’re not our brother. You’re our cousin, and the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. You are the heir to the iron throne.”

“Your queen,” Jon can hear Sansa’s derision at the title and how the snow snaps under her boots, “has been looking for you. If you didn’t want to be found you should’ve picked a better place to hide.”

The godswood belongs to the Starks. The trees, stones and hot springs are Stark. Dragons would never feel welcome here.

Is that why I’m here? To try and prove to myself that I’m more wolf than dragon? That I belong?

“Dany would never look for me here,” He touches the heart tree. His...aunt doesn’t believe in any gods. Sap flows from the carved face. Perhaps she believes herself to be the only god worth worshipping.

“Dany, is it? How...intimate.” She’s closer now. Jon continues to stare at the carved face. He knows she wants to say more on the matter. He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Everyone is furious because they believe their king gave away his crown just as easily as he gave away his heart.” Her footfalls quicken with each word. Her implied accusation, however false, stings.

“If that’s what you think. Would you believe me if I told you otherwise? You never did trust me.” Did you sense the dragon blood in me?  Is that why you never trusted me?

She’s nearly behind him. He can smell the faintest hint of lavender.

“We’re not blind, Jon! The entire North knows the nature of your relationship. And the situation will be dire if word of your Targaryen parentage gets out.”

At the mention of his relationship with Dany he barks out a jagged laugh. His self hatred forces him to turn around and finally face her.

“You know nothing,” his mouth twists into a snarl, “about the ‘nature’ of my relationship with her.”

They stand there for seconds that feel like hours. He takes the time to look at her. Really look at her. Righteous fury tinges the apples of her cheeks and depeens the blue of her eyes. Her hair is windswept and the hem of her cloak is darkened by snow and mud. She’s radiant.

“Tell me. Did you fall into her bed before or after you bent the knee?”

Jon sidesteps the question and crushes her toes in the process. He knows this. This rhythm. This dance.  

“The lords are breathing down my neck, asking questions I should know the answers to. But I don’t because I only heard from you once during the entirety of your stay in the South.” She circles him and her boots mark each of her steps. “All I can do is smile and apologize because I, myself, am at a loss.”

Their fights discussions, as Sansa insists on calling them, have always been passionate in nature. Voices are raised, feet pace the floor, hands gesticulate. It’s a dance they have had ample opportunities to practice. In spite of all the spinning and turning it is their eyes that help guide them to the end of the reel; when the music fades they look at each other as equals. Partners.

That will not be the case tonight. His feet and mind are at odds with the music.

Sansa twirls around to ask if he really bent the knee to the mother of dragons, a woman who, if reports are to be believed, burns anyone who refuses to kneel. He takes two steps back and bumps into the heart tree.

“Talk to me, Jon. Say something. You were gone for weeks and the only message I received from you said that you had given the North away. Tell me that’s not true. Not after everything we went through to get it back.”

Jon remains silent.

On and on they fumble through the same steps until he simply stops dancing.

“I had to welcome her into our home while you just stood there in silence. I hoped you had a plan but it seems that...”

The music fades away. He can’t hear Sansa anymore. Instead, he only feels blood pulse in his ears. Jon rolls his shoulders back in an attempt to...to do something. Anything to make the dark and the silence—

“Be quiet!”

The stillness that follows is deafening. He opens his eyes. He had not noticed he had closed them. The sight that greets him changes the tone of their dance. Sansa looks stricken. She’s afraid of me.

Sansa is leagues away from him, beyond his arm’s reach. Their dance has come to an impasse. Her face is a mask of moving shadows and dusklight. Her eyes are hidden by the shadows. She is wearing her mask. She can’t even bring herself to look at me, I’ve scared her so.

“I’m sorry.” His knees creak as he takes a step towards her. “Sansa, I—“

The woman who stared down Ramsay on a field of bleeding grass shrinks away from Jon. She takes a step back and Jon follows her movement. Sansa’s braid swings behind her and catches the red of the evening sun. It reminds him of the view from atop of the Wall. The way the sun would reflect off the ice and be all the brighter for it. His eyes drink in the light and he feels himself burning.

“Look at me.”

Sansa lifts her eyes but she is unseeing. She’s looking through him, pretending he’s not there. He knows she’s pretending because he can’t bear to look at himself either. The air is thick with her hatred. He knows she hates him. He knows because he hates himself, too.

He’s had enough of dancing. He wants to fight.

Jon clenches his fist and digs his fingers into his palm. “I said, look. at. me!”

There. Her eyes finally lock onto his. And Jon despises himself for it.

“I’m looking at you, Jon. What else do you want from me?” Her spine straightens just as she places a foot behind her for balance. This is not a dancer’s pose. “I would kneel but...you’re not a king anymore, are you?”

I know you’re holding yourself back. There’s more. There has to be.

“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the North.” Fight me. Bare your teeth. Stop hiding behind your mask. Fight. Me.

“Aye, you bent the knee, fell in love, and fucked her for the North. Is that right?” Sansa bites out the question. She takes a step towards him. There you are, she-wolf. Your mask is finally gone. He says nothing in retaliation. He wants her to hurt him.

“No, that’s not how it happened. You fell in love, and then you bent the knee. You gave the North away,” she laughs derisively. “And now everything the North lost to the South means nothing. Because in the end it will all return to how it was before,” her voice is a well-honed weapon. “With the North subservient to the whims of an uncaring South.”

She isn’t dancing anymore. She is a skilled warrior with fire in her hair. Each of her words is a thrust and a slash. Jon knows he should be able to defend and attack. He is a better fighter than he ever was a dancer.

“What made you do it? Was it her politics? Her dragons? Or did you find her so beautiful that you couldn’t help but throw our kingdom at her feet?”

He fails to parry.

“Did you ever even care about Robb and all the Northerners who died for an independent North?”

He doesn’t raise a shield in self defense.

This, this is what I wanted. He wants her angry. As angry as he is. He waits for her to deliver the killing blow. Jon knows she will do it. He needs her to do it. He’s too much of a craven to say it himself.

Come on. Say it. Say it. Say it.

“Of course you wouldn’t care. You’re a Targaryen. What more could be expected of a treacherous dragon?”

When the last word leaves Sansa’s lips and sinks into his skin Jon crumbles to his knees in surrender. The truth is laid bare as Sansa pulls out her sword from his gaping flesh. Faintly, he hears Sansa gasp out his name.

You’re right.

I was never a Stark. I wasn’t even a Snow. I feel like a traitor. A thief. The North’s crown was never meant to be mine. They crowned me because they believed me a wolf. I’m nothing but an imposter. I’ll never be a Stark.

I’ll always be alone.

His parentage, the Others, the dragon queen he brought to Winterfell’s gates...it’s all too much for a single man to bear. The darkness that he first encountered when he died comes to smother him once more. He’s gasping for air. His chest is collapsing.

Jon feels Sansa’s warmth before he sees her. She’s dropped to her knees as well. Her eyes are frantic and wide. “Jon. I’m sorry. I–I don’t mean it, Jon. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her arms wind themselves around him; her cloak meets his to create a cocoon.

“I didn’t mean it. I don’t mean it. Jon.” He feels her lips press against his hair. “Oh, gods. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

Sansa holds him and Jon feels air slowly begin to trickle down into his lungs. He feels her fingers weave themselves into his hair and guide his head to rest against her shoulder. Jon has never been touched like this. All his life he’s been known as the bastard of Winterfell. The only blemish on Ned Stark’s honor. Bastards are coarse, brutish, and foul. He’s been hit, spit at, and ignored. Stabbed by those he thought his brothers. Who would want to hold such a creature with tenderness and care? And yet, in spite of it all, Sansa is here on the snow-laden forest floor. Holding him. Murmuring sweet words to him.

Before fear of rejection can stop him, Jon lifts his arms to anchor himself to her. She doesn’t push him away but instead holds him even tighter.

And Jon lets himself cry. Everything he has been holding in for the past hour, months, years, he finally lets free.

“Strong.” He gasps out the word. “I’ve been trying so hard to be strong...because if I fall I won’t be able to stand up again.”

The hand on his back moves in a soothing pattern as she listens to him unburden himself.

“Father, Robb, Rickon, even your Lady mother...” A sob tears its way out of his throat. He burrows his face deeper into the warmth of Sansa’s neck. “I felt each of their deaths. When you found me at Castle Black I was afraid of you...Of what you meant. No longer could I give up and run away. Because here you were. You became someone I could lose. You...to me you are the North. If the North falls...”

He can’t even finish the sentence. His fears leave him shaking in her arms. I can’t fail you. Not you, too. I promised. I promised to protect you.

The mere thought of losing her physically pains him. Before he learned of Bran and Arya’s survival, Sansa was all that tethered him to this world. He tries to compose himself and breathes in deeply. The scent of lavender he has come to associate with Sansa calms him. His tears have dampened the fur of her cloak. Embarrassed and ashamed he gently breaks away from her and leans back. His breeches are damp from kneeling for so long in the snow. Sansa’s hands fall away from him and onto her lap. The air feels colder with the space between them but he’s allowed himself to be weak for too long. He’s kept Sansa in the dark for too long.

“You deserve answers.”

Sansa looks uncertain and tense. She lets out a slow exhale. She’s waits for him to continue.

“I never bent the knee.”

They remain kneeling on the ground, face to face. Her eyebrows furrow and her eyes flicker with questions, confusion, and...hope? Cautiously, he reaches out and takes her hands in his. It makes him feel strong.

“She has no knowledge of our customs and traditions; I took advantage of that. I’m not proud of it but I did what I thought was best. And yes, I fell into her bed. I didn’t know she was...that I am...” Sansa nods at him to continue. There’s no judgement in her eyes.

“Technically, I pledged only myself to her. I didn’t give her the North.” I couldn’t. It’s a part of me. “I don’t know how long I can keep up the ruse. But we need her here for the war against the Others. If I have to stay by her side to ensure that, I will. As her bed warmer, her consort, or whatever she wants me to be. As long as you are safe...as long as all of you are safe...”

When did everything become so complicated?

Jon didn’t love Dany. He was attracted to her, it’s true. But his attraction didn’t blind him to her unreliability; he saw how easily she cast the Dornish and the Greyjoys aside. And he needed to be assured of her aid. He knew that she treasured loyalty and adoration above everything else when he knocked on her cabin door. He knew there was no turning back once he crossed her doorway. She would be more amenable to him, yes. But he would also never be able to leave her without her seeing it as a betrayal. He had hoped for an amicable future with her but then Bran told them about his parentage, the Tarlys, the chaos she left across the Narrow Sea, her penchant for burning people alive... Mance’s face flashes in his mind’s eye. No. He could never love her now.

It would be so much easier if I did.

His confession drains him. He feels numb. And Sansa...says nothing. Her lips are slightly parted. Her eyes are unfocused. Whatever emotion alights her face Jon cannot comprehend or identify.

She hates him.

The tension and rejection is unbearable so he retreats. He fought and he lost.

“Forgive me. I, I don’t know what came over me.” He releases her hands, stands, and stiffly nods. “Now you know everything.”

Before Jon can run away Sansa captures his hand. Even through the leather of her gloves he can feel her warmth. She rises from the snow without letting go. Once of a height with him her other hand cups his face.

Do you hate me? Now that you know what I’ve done and who I am? Are you as disgusted as I am?

“There’s nothing to forgive. Feeling pain, fear, anger... It’s not weakness. It’s what makes us human.” She brushes away one of his tears. He hadn’t realized he started crying again. Or maybe he never stopped. “Let me be there for you. You can be human with me...” Her voice hitches. “Maybe, maybe we can be human together.”

The world is blurry but even so he can see how Sansa is crying tears of her own. We have both lost so much. She’s right. Maybe we can be human. Together.

Jon doesn’t give himself time to hesitate. He pulls Sansa by the waist and into his arms. Or perhaps he is the one to fall into hers. It doesn’t matter. We’re together and that’s what matters. Thats all that matters.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” Her chest rises against his as she takes in a stuttering breath.

“You have nothing to—“

“Yes I do. I’m sorry for saying all those vile things to you. They’re not true. Not a single one of them. I never doubted you, not really. I was just so...angry.” Her nails dig into his chest. “I saw how possessive she was of the North—of you. I feared I had lost everything to her. I...I feared I had lost you.”

Sansa trails off so quietly he almost doesn’t hear her. He turns his head to look at her. She looks pained as if it hurts to speak the words out loud. We can be human together. He clutches the fabric of her cloak and holds her tighter still, as if to reassure her of his presence. You’ll never lose me. Never.

Sansa blinks the salt away from her eyes. Tears cling like beads of glass to her eyelashes.

“You’ve done your part, Jon. You’ve brought us an army and weapons. If you don’t love her...” She tilts her head to look at him. In her eyes lies blue steel. “She won’t take you away from the North. I don’t care that your father was a dragon—your mother was a wolf. You’re part of the pack, Jon. Now it’s our turn to protect you.”

Sansa lifts her hands from his chest and grips his shoulders.

“You’re a Stark. You always have been and always will be. Always. And I...” she pauses, “I trust you.”

Jon feels a tightness in his battered soul uncoil. All his life he’s wanted to be a Stark. And Sansa claims him as a one just when he thinks the possibility is forever lost to him. She gives him a pack. She gives him her trust. This woman who has been betrayed at every turn is willing to trust once more. To trust him.

At a loss for words he kisses her forehead like he did many moons ago. Except it’s not the same. At all. This kiss lasts longer. Feels richer. Tastes sweeter.

When his lips leave her skin she says nothing. Sansa simply rests her head in the crook of his neck. For the first time since they left Winterfell as children, Jon hears Sansa hum a song. It’s quiet, more of a whisper, but it’s there. He can’t recall the name but he remembers the words. It’s not particularly joyful yet there’s hope in the rise and fall of her voice.

It feels natural when their embrace falls into an almost invisible cadence. Gently, their bodies sway in place; it is the simplest of dances. He once believed himself destined to live and die fighting. Never did he imagine himself dancing in Winterfell with a lady in his arms. Jon thinks he prefers dancing. 

Something has shifted between them tonight. It’s new and he’s afraid of what he will find if he examines it too closely. What scares him is that he’s afraid in the first place.

She’s just Sansa. My Lady of Winterfell. My partner. My cousin. He takes in another breath of lavender. My sister.

Night is fast approaching; their small reprieve from the rest of the world, and its problems, is almost at an end. Jon closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy their dance.

She’s just my sister.

What more could she ever be?

[thebluelemontree]

How do you think the show has represented Sansa's relationship with Cersei? I never once got the feeling in the books that Sansa was a mini-Cersei. I felt she saw how Cersei ruled and rejected her style of ruling utterly. The show very much has her as learning a lot from and mirroring Cersei, becoming a protégé of sorts. Would love to get your thoughts on the Sansa/Cersei depiction!

"The night's first traitors," the queen said, "but not the last, I fear. Have Ser Ilyn see to them, and put their heads on pikes outside the stables as a warning." As they left, she turned to Sansa. "Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you'll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy."

"I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me. -- Sansa VI, ACOK.

Sansa is definitely not a mini-Cersei.  Cersei’s lesson does not ring true to her.  She learned that love was the best way of ensuring loyalty at her father’s knee.  She says in no uncertain terms that she would do things differently.  Sansa even goes into more profound complexity with the question of how you make people love you.  She looks critically at how the Tyrells use good PR and how the commons respond to it.   

Sansa had watched from the castle walls as Margaery Tyrell, and her escort made their way up Aegon's High Hill. Joffrey had met his new bride-to-be at the King's Gate to welcome her to the city, and they rode side by side through cheering crowds, Joff glittering in gilded armor and the Tyrell girl splendid in green with a cloak of autumn flowers blowing from her shoulders. She was sixteen, brown-haired and brown-eyed, slender and beautiful. The people called out her name as she passed, held up their children for her blessing, and scattered flowers under the hooves of her horse. Her mother and grandmother followed close behind, riding in a tall wheelhouse whose sides were carved into the shape of a hundred twining roses, every one gilded and shining. The smallfolk cheered them as well.

The same smallfolk who pulled me from my horse and would have killed me, if not for the Hound. Sansa had done nothing to make the commons hate her, no more than Margaery Tyrell had done to win their love. -- Sansa I, ASOS

In the events leading up to the Blackwater, the Tyrells were responsible for cutting off the food supply to KL.  They caused the starvation among the smallfolk that led to the bread riot, knowing that the Lannisters would be blamed and would respond to the crisis with violent suppression.  Do the smallfolk know this?  Nope.  They only know how things look from their point of view.  The Tyrells then sweep into the city handing out food to the people.  Margaery, young and beautiful, is the face of their campaign.  Sansa isn’t blaming the smallfolk here as if they are just fickle.  They are being manipulated and exploited because they are hungry and the institutions of power had failed them.  The people attacked in the riot were representations of those institutions:  the High Septon, the king, a knight, and the nobility.  Poor Lollys Stokeworth was as innocent as they come and she got caught in the crosshairs.  Her crime was being born noble.  She understands that Margaery hasn’t really done anything personally to win their love any more than Sansa had done anything personally to deserve their hatred.  True loyalty that leads to overall social stability needs to be made personal, and it needs to be a genuine two-way street.  Her father’s tradition of having commoners eat at the table with his family while listening to them talk about their lives is so central to the Stark children’s upbringing.

Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. "Know the men who follow you," she heard him tell Robb once, "and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger." -- Arya II, AGOT. 

Sansa is very much her father’s daughter too.  She’s largely learning from Cersei what not to do; however, there is this interesting tidbit from TWOW sample:

"Must?" She tossed her hair, took a sip of wine, made him wait. "How can you forgive someone who is unforgiveably rude? Will you explain that to me, ser?"

Ser Harrold looked confused. "Please. One dance."

That hair toss, wine sip, and making him wait is totally a Cersei power move.  Harry is asking her to dance grudgingly at the behest of Lady Anya.  He absolutely loathes that he has to be polite and dance with someone so beneath him.  Sansa turns the tables on him by adopting a queenly posture and turning her nose up at his insincere apology.  He’s so stunned and chastened that he ends up pleading for a dance instead.  As awful as Cersei can be, she’s no mealy-mouthed doormat.  She’s right that she should never have to be deferential to men just because she’s a woman and expected to.  While inflicting fear through violence is not a good way of dealing with people, Sansa is making Harry fear her displeasure and rejection, and it instantly makes him treat her with more respect.  So, yeah I think Sansa is capable of mining some gold nuggets out her experience with Cersei while also not adopting Cersei’s values.  

The show is more unclear but seems to land on the side of uncritically emulating some of what Cersei does.  On the one hand, Sansa calls correctly that Cersei is still a threat and that her word cannot be trusted.  On the other, as of season 8 episode 4, we have the Stark sisters seeming to think a lot like Cersei:  that the world is divided into Starks and non-Starks and only Starks and their loyalists are human beings worth caring about to paraphrase a fan’s very apt description of Cersei’s core belief.  I can’t believe I just wrote that... kill me.  I guess the idea is that Sansa has learned from Cersei and how she thinks.  Yes, Sansa has devoted herself to making sure the people are fed, sheltered, and the army is well-supplied and outfitted.  Good things.  Far more concerned and hands-on about these issues than Cersei ever would be.  Sansa does care for the well-being of her people, but I don’t see that warmth and personal touch of inspiring love coming through on the show.  Cersei is still her enemy, but she’s also willing to scheme like Cersei.  We see her circling the wagons against potential allies for no good reason except self-interest and fear of losing power.  That’s Cersei.  You can also add Littlefinger’s influence in here too.  It’s a disaster, and I hate it, so I would rather not dwell on it any longer.  

[gawaine]

I will express this coherently at some point but to summarise;

this became longer than anticipated.

some common criticisms of the finale and why I politely think that, for the most part, they’re (respectfully) fucking wrong

what was the point of the whole show if not the Targaryen storyline?! The ascension of House Stark. The entire series is about the ascension of House Stark. How Bran the Broken’s forefather rejected the throne and died a traitor, like his fathers before him; how Arya escaped King’s Landing and returned as (however which way, or accidentally) a lauded hero, there to save others; how Lady Stark, who was mercilessly abused at the hands of Joffrey and held accountable for the sins of the Lannisters butchering her family, took forward their cause and everything that they died for. Love. Respect. Honour. The North. I’m fucking fine ok no I’m not my baby I’m emOTIONAL

there were good parts but it was a shitty ending! so anti-climactic! It’s the final episode. The penultimate episode of GoT is always the big one; the dramatic fight, the huge scenes. The ending is always quiet. It’s always about the aftermath. The but what is the result of that? That’s the GoT structure. GoT is about politics, human nature, cunning. If you expected anything more than that in the final episode of the final season, you haven’t been paying attention.

Drogon didn’t kill Jon! The argument that Drogon has always showed slight (albeit significantly less than with Dany) deference to Jon; we see he’s wary of him and I guess we all knew that when it came down to it, it would take something fantastic for Drogon to allow Jon to ride him, but we see it as Jon enters the castle and in multiple scenes throughout the season. Him not reacting to Jon isn’t well explained, but there’s an argument there that Drogon senses Jon is at least part Targ. And fire cannot kill a dragon.

what was even the point of Jon being a Targaryen if he’s not king? ... All of it. He chooses to be a Stark first. He denounces fire and blood. He denounces his own free will and choices, even if it means saving whatever remainder is left of House Stark. This is about the rise of House Stark. It always has been. Their suffering, their loss, their triumphs. I can’t remember when, but i remember posting once that as much as fans argue otherwise, we travel with the narrative. Our two narrative threads, that we’re led to follow as an audience, are the Starks and Daenerys. Jon symbolises that; more than that, he IS that. He is us in that world. The world isn’t that simple. Also, he goes down in history as the man who saves Westeros.

they played us with Dany. Right. No, they didn’t... And yes, they did. Her storyline has been there from the start. The schism between dual supporters of House Stark and House Targaryen only started around season 7, which was when Daenerys conveniently started exhibiting behaviour that indicated she wasn’t as stable as we’d been led to believe/before. I’m not anti-Daenerys, but there have been breadcrumbs this whole time. I’d go so far as to say that the writers probably overestimated the intelligence of their audience; that’s not me being abrasive, that’s fact. The nuggets people looked for in earlier seasons is based on source material. The nuances people enjoyed became ignored for the ‘bigger picture’ - but everyone assumed what that was based on the monolith that the show became (past tense! urgh), not on what the show has always been/was meant to continue to be this season. Was it poorly written? Yes. Absolutely. I felt betrayed by the voice over in the penultimate episode. It was lazy and shoddy. I may not like what Daenerys has become, but she deserved so much more. Also, there was a lack of consistency. This episode highlights her belief in her own benevolence and yes, it’s meant to be ironic and show us how stupid we’ve been - with Jon - and I would’ve respected it more if she’d been written to stand by her fury. But she’s also not her brother. She will purposefully not act that way whilst ignorant to her own faults. She’s delusional. I could write a whole essay on Daenerys’ mental health (did the show write it as misogyny? Yeah, I see it. Is that the basis of her character’s madness as a narrative? Um, no)

what the fuck was Tyrion’s speech? The writers assumed the audience was smarter (in their sense of the word) than they are. So they spelled it out for us, just in case. Clunky, lazy, etc? Yes. Fitting for that scene? Also yes.

lol the episode was so bad, the only good part was Jon petting Ghost It now makes sense why they didn’t have the budget for two Ghost scenes (you know about 70% of their CGI budget went on Drogon in this episode). There’s a reason for that; the season structure of GoT so far [see above], and the reminder of the true theme here - House Stark’s rise [see above]. Jon is at home in the North. At the Wall, he’s not a Targaryen, or a Stark; he’s Jon. It’s the only place where he can be just that. And that includes being half a Stark (ironically, the only consistent thing in his life), but not only that. Does it make relatively little narrative sense to have the Unsullied be invited to stay in Westeros, just to demand Jon is made a prisoner and then leave? True - but the point is, the door is kept open. That’s life. People move, people change, cultures adapt. The Unsullied are now a part of Westeros, no matter how far they go. Plus, Jon in the Wall... Knowing Bran knows the future... urgh, I see it. Poor writing, badly executed (props to the actors and production teams for doing a fantastic job with the material given), but I see the point being made.

the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives - what bullshit! Incorrect. Everyone assumes that’s meant literally; that’s only in times of war, that it’s literal (which is why it’s all we’ve seen so far; it’s eight seasons of war  against the Starks, or involving them). They are together. They are united. They are safe and they are happy. Personally, it’s all I’ve ever wanted from this series. I see others’ disappointment, I do. But Sansa is home. People saying she’s lonely and suffering the burden of ruling... No. Yes, she’s alone. But she’s not lonely. She’s home. With people who love her. With not just her father’s and forefathers’ legacy behind her, including in rebellion against the Targaryen’s for independence of the North/the ‘greater good’; but her mother’s and Robb’s, too. She’s always been somebody else’s. “x’s wife”. “x’s assistant”. “x’s chess piece”. Like Jon beyond the wall, she is just Sansa Stark in Winterfell. Like Jon, it was a legacy she craved - a home - and now she has it, without being the forced bystander she was as a child. Same with Arya. She always wanted to be free to do as she pleased, without losing her identity. House Stark is no longer against the world, fighting to survive. It has. They are a family. Your family aren’t dictated by who’s closest to you. They have survived. They’re not alone. This is the beginning of the series whilst it isn’t, because what’s changed? They know their loyalties lie. The pack must always survive. They have. They know that, after this, no matter what, they always will.

I could go on for hours but you get the point.

It wasn’t the greatest season. My favourite will always be seven. But that finale was one of the best episodes this season, because, as much as it may not feel like enough, it tied the strings relevant to the story it set out to be; which was ALWAYS about House Stark. 

The promo? Of their statues in Winterfell’s crypts? They bury their old selves. They become someone unrecognisable, born from who they were at the beginning.

But the point remains, they are, and always will be Starks first. Daenerys will always be a Targaryen first. You cannot escape your family. You can try and do better, but you can never escape who you are and how who that is affects you.

I fucking love it. Everything else can - bad pun intended - burn. The story this was meant to be got its ending. The stories in between may not have and that’s dissatisfying; but the ending to the original story was there.

[yougottalovegameofthrones]

Almost Home Pt. 5 (Robb Stark x Reader)

A/N:   I’m really enjoying writing this series. I’m undecided on how many parts I’m going to make, but it will probably reach 10 at the minimum. We’ll have to see. :)  Announcement time: if you have any ideas for either stand-alone imagines (one part ones) or ideas for another series, please let me know, either in the comments or shoot me a message. Also, if you would like to be in the tag list, let me know as well! I’m starting it from this imagine part and forward, so just let me know. :) 

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TAGLIST: 

@youshouldbescared

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WARNINGS: slightly sexual content (but not really)

Y/N’s POV

The  weeks passed on without incident, eventually turning into months. Catelyn Stark said nothing of her conversation with Robb, but ceased talking to me almost altogether. Although I did prefer to have a person to talk to, if this meant that she wouldn’t try to feed me the lies that I had believed so easily before,  I would gladly take her silence as a blessing. 

I found myself falling for Robb over the past few months, way faster than I imagined it would happen. He would make occasional visits, stopping by just as I was feeding the last mare in the stables and was alone. Eventually, we found ourselves beginning to meet later at night when everyone was asleep.  

It started one evening when he had just finished drinking with some friends. After a sharp knock on the door, I opened it to see him standing there. His eyes were slightly red, but he looked like he had at least some control of his actions.

“Can I help you, Your Grace?” I asked, an amused smile on my face.

“Would you mind sharing your bed for a night?”  Robb asked rather loudly, his voice echoing down the hall.

“Ssssh. You have to be quiet.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, shutting the door before turning back to him. “How much did you drink?”

“Not too much.” He shrugged, before walking over to my bed and laying down with a huff. “But enough that I don’t know how to get back to my room by myself.”

“I don’t know whether to feel bad for you, or laugh at you.” I giggle before coming over to the bed and laying down next to him. “You know you could have been caught coming over here, right?”

“I know.” Robb sighed as he looked over at me. “But I thought that it’d be worth a shot. At least I get to see you somewhere other than the stables.”

“But the stables are a lot less risky than coming to my room late at night.” I smiled softly as his fingers moved gently to brush against my cheek “I do not think that your mother would be thrilled to find out that we… well, you know.”

“No, I don’t.”  Robb smirked in amusement. “Tell me more.”

“Shut up.” I laughed and rolled my eyes as he pulled me closer to him by my waist. “Robb….”

“What? We’re free to do whatever we want in this room. Can I at least have a kiss?”

“I fear you may not remember it in the morning.”

“Like I said…” Robb’s hand gently cupped my face, and I leaned my cheek into his palm as I gazed into his eyes. “I didn’t drink that much. I’m pretty sure I’d have to be flat out wasted if I was to forget kissing you.”

“Whatever you say, Robb Stark.” I closed my eyes as a smirk spread across my lips. “Maybe we should get some-“

My sentence was cut off, as warm lips brushed against my own.  I smiled against my partners lips, pulling away a few moments later and opening my eyes to meet his startling Tully blue eyes.   “Do you think you’ll remember that one?”

“Maybe I should try once more, just in case.” Before I could respond with a witty remark, I was pulled gently back into his warm embrace, his lips connecting with mine once more. Unlike our last kiss, he was not as gentle, not as tender. It was as if this would be the last time we would ever be together, and he needed me to be as close to him as possible for as long as I could.

The slightly humorous atmosphere melted into something that I had never experienced before, and in a single movement, all without breaking our kiss, Robb moved to hover over me. My hands moved up his chest and into his hair, slightly pulling at the dark curls as we kissed. A gentle sound escaped his lips at the action, and I did it again, prompting the same response as before.

After a moment, our kiss ended, but before I could protest, his lips moved down to my neck. A delicious moan left my lips, and I bit my lip to keep quiet. “Robb?”

He didn’t respond, only moving higher up my neck to gently kiss the skin underneath my ear.

“Robb. I think we should pace ourselves.” I laughed shakily, my stomach feeling as if it was swarming with butterflies. My body was certainly betraying my mind at this moment.  The King of the North let out a small sigh, before pulling away to meet my eyes. His eyes were lit with excitement, as well as slight disappoint that I had asked to stop. But there was understanding as well.

“I think you’re right.” Robb smiled, and rolled off me to lay on the bed. He turned his head to face me. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I haven’t done anything like this before, and I don’t want to…” I fumbled with my words, my face burning as I tried to make excuses that didn’t make it sound like I was rejecting him. Gods, I was sure sounding stupid.

“You do not have to be sorry, or apologize for anything.” His arm wrapped around me,  pulling me closer to his chest before he tilted my chin so our eyes met. “I will wait as long as you wish, even if that day never comes. Because, I’m not here for just the night. I will be here as long as you want me here. You know that, right?”

“You mean you’ll always be here in my room late at night and drunk?” I rolled my eyes playfully, and he chuckled slightly before kissing my head gently.

“That is not what I meant. “ Robb pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and gazed down at me.  “And I’m not drunk. I only had one or two pints.”

“I know. I just love to tease you.” I smiled before leaning up to kiss him gently. “We should probably get some sleep. Are you sure it’s not a problem that you aren’t in your chambers tonight?”

“If my mother says a word about it, I’ll come up with a good story.”  

I smiled sadly as I got up to get the lit candle before bringing it to my nightstand, and sitting back down on the bed. “Do you think that she will ever know about… us?”

“One day.” The bed creaked slightly and I smiled as I felt his slight scruff rub gently against my neck as his lips brushed against my cheek.  “She is still misses Father dearly. I think that it will take her time to see more change in the House of Stark.”

“I’m sure it will.”  I blew out the flame, the moonlight from outside pouring into the room softly, giving a little light in the otherwise dark room. I climbed underneath the blankets I had been provided, Robb doing the same. “Whenever it happens, she won’t be terribly pleased.”

“No.” He pulled me closer to his side. “But I will be tremendously pleased. And by that time, all of the pain and loss of war will be behind us.  I don’t think she’ll care at that point.”  Robb paused for a moment before continuing. “Are these all the blankets you have? You must be freezing here at night. I’ll go get you some more furs.”

“Not tonight.” I grabbed his arm gently as he started to climb out of bed. “All I need is you right now.”

“Well, I suppose that could be arranged.”

I closed my eyes with a smile as I lay that night in the arms of Robb Stark, the one true King who would one day sit upon the Iron Throne. I could only pray to the Gods that it would all happen soon, and that neither of us would lose the other in the process.

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[thescarletgarden1990]

#62 Please ; )

“If you can’t sleep… we could have sex?”

READ IT ON AO3!

Preview:

It was so sudden, the temperature dropping as the storm raged outside, the wind howling against the windows of her temporary room. Totally unpredictable, considering the hot, glaring sun roasting them just that afternoon as her friends played beach volley while she ogled that raven-haired marvel of a man she had crushed on all summer, and his enticing buttocks. Down, girl, she chastised herself.

She couldn’t sleep, the violent storm making her nervous, unable to find solace in her bed. Groaning, she surrendered to her insomnia and padded towards the kitchen, rubbing her eyes tiredly, her toes curling against the cold tiled floor.

If only she were more attentive, she would have noticed the unwelcome presence in the kitchen before it could notice her back, but she was too careless. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, a beer can in his hand and a lewd glaze in his eyes as he scanned her body, down to her naked legs. Suddenly, she felt too exposed even in her oversized, worn t-shirt.

“Theon,” she muttered in a reluctant greeting, heading straight to the fridge and fishing a can of beer for herself.

“Looking good, Targaryen,” he hummed. She wished she could punch that cocky expression from his stupid face. “Can’t sleep?”

“The storm is keeping me up,” she half-heartedly explained, moving to go back to her room before the asshole could harass her further. That was the intention, at least.

“If you can’t sleep… we could have sex? They say it’s great for curing insomnia.“

Fucking asshole. Before she could unleash fire and blood on his sorry ass, another, much more welcome, voice interrupted her murderous thoughts. “Leave her the fuck alone, Theon. How many more times will she have to reject you before you shut that big mouth of yours?”

“Snow. Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“No one asked for yours, either,” she quickly retorted. “Fuck off, Theon. Robb warned you, didn’t he? What was it he said? Better not harass the girls or I’m going to kick you out before this vacation is over, Theon,” she reminded him, doing her best Robb Stark impression. She heard Jon stifle a snicker from behind her, the rare sound making her feel strangely smug.

“Whatever, Targaryen. Good luck finding a boyfriend with that fucking temper of yours,” he remarked disdainfully before fleeing the kitchen, leaving her alone with the man who haunted her fantasies.

“He’s an ass,” he commented quietly once Theon was gone. “And a sore loser.” Her stomach was already in knots at the sound of his gravelly voice and enticing Northern accent, and then she made the mistake of actually turning to look at him. He was shirtless, wearing just a pair of boxer briefs, his curls loose and tousled from sleep. Daenerys had to bite her tongue to stifle a gasp at the blessed sight.

He seemed to notice her fleeting glance, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “Sorry, ah… I thought the kitchen would be empty at this hour of the night.”

She gestured to her own outfit, the shirt barely covering the bottom cleft of her ass. “So did I,” she chuckled.

“Right.” He took a can of beer for himself, opening it and clinking it against her own before taking a long sip. “So, I would think that someone called Stormborn would sleep like a baby in this weather. I’m surprised to see you’re up.”

“Oh, that damned nickname,” she laughed. “Yeah, it’s weird, isn’t it? But I really can’t sleep, and I don’t know what to do. It’s annoying.”

“Don’t tell me. I’ve been counting sheep for an hour, at least,” he laughed. He moved closer to her, leaning against the counter beside her, a flash of firm muscles under the pale skin of his abdomen that made her stomach flutter. Already, she could feel heat pooling between her thighs, the low thrum of arousal making her shift on her legs and fidget in a vain attempt to ease her need.

“It wasn’t a bad idea, you know?” she blurted out before she could help herself, inwardly cringing, but it was too late. Jon was looking at her with a puzzled expression. “What? Theon’s idea?”

“Yeah…”