#the Robb pov part was So Much Writer’s Block

[inkandarsenic]

these hollow empty spaces (3)

"do what is right, not what is easy."

Synopsis: The youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister refuses to stand idly by, and the currents of fate shift.

Pairing: Robb Stark x Lannister!OC

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers but like enemies more in the political sense

Pt. 3

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It was truly remarkable how quickly things had gone downhill.

When Ned Stark had first been arrested, Robb Stark had raised his banners and started a march to King’s Landing in protest. Tywin, in response, had called his own banners and gone to meet Robb in war.

Eleyna, in turn, had contacted her uncle — war was expensive, the Iron Throne was already indebted to the Westerlands, and now the westerlords were having their resources and men taken to fight the Iron Throne’s war, a war Joffrey started. It couldn’t continue, and Eleyna had no intentions of keeping the people she would one day be responsible for under the Iron Throne that was draining their coffers and taking their sons.

Her uncle, after several heated letters of argument, agreed that the Westerlands were in a sorry state when compared to just 14 years ago, and agreed to speak to the westerlords and convince them of her plan of secession.

It was… slow-going. Hard, to sit in king’s landing and just trust that her uncle was doing as he said, even as he joined her father in his military encampment. Still, Eleyna had hoped that her plans wouldn’t be needed — that Lord Stark would be released and the war would end before it could really begin.

And then Joffrey had gone and taken Ned Stark’s head, and plunged the realm into veritable chaos.

****

The tree was a sorry outlet for his grief and rage. Robb wanted something that fought back, wanted blood — but he could not take his emotions out on his soldiers, he could not be so weak as to cry in front of his bannermen, so the tree it was.

The raven carrying the news of his father’s death had come in the morning, and Robb hated the pitying, sympathetic looks everyone gave him as he’d read the message out. He’d gone into the woods at the first opportunity.

“Robb.”

It hurt, more than anything he’d felt before. A hollow, empty space in his chest that ached with every grunt, every swing of his sword. Was this how his father had felt, when the Mad King burned his own father and brother? The tree blurred in his vision.

“Robb.”

Wood chips flew with every thudding slice of his blade; he felt nothing but anger. What comfort could the tree offer, what did the bark know of grief? His father was dead. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Robb!” He stopped, chest heaving, and looked. His mother was in front of him, a shared pain in her eyes. “You’ve ruined your sword.”

So he had. He dropped it into the dirt. His mother met him halfway as he came towards her and he collapsed into her arms as he had when he was a child.

“I’ll kill them all,” he cried into her shoulder, and meant it. He’d been a fool, all these months, imagining that he could still be friendly at the very least with Eleyna — Lady Eleyna, his mind corrected — even as he marched to war against her family. He’d read the letters from Sansa that had mentioned Lady Eleyna being in King’s Landing. But where had she been, when his father was being accused of treason, when Sansa had been forced to write that raven message calling Father a traitor, when his father was executed? Where had friendship been then? No. Lady Eleyna was a Lannister, the heir to the Lannister seat. He’d have her head just as he’d have the rest. “Every one of them. I’m going to kill them all.”

His mother held him close, one hand on the back of his head and for a moment he closed his eyes and imagined he was a little boy again, and the worst thing that had ever happened to him was a scraped knee.

“They have your sisters,” his mother reminded him. “We have to get the girls back.” Her voice turned dark with grief-filled promise. “And then we will kill them all.”

****

So Joffrey was a terrible king. A terrible person, as became more apparent by the day. Even Cersei didn’t seem able keep a rein on his darker tendencies, or if she could, clearly didn’t care to try.

Case in point: Eleyna stood in court silently, to the left of the dais Cersei and Joffrey sat on, trying not to grimace at the bard sitting in the center of the throne room. She’d never really liked Robert, but the song was… distasteful nonetheless.

“—the Lion ripped his balls off aaaand…” The bard glanced up at the Queen Mother and seemed to hesitate before quickly finishing, “theboardidalltherest.”

Eleyna could see Cersei’s faint, polite smile tighten. The court was silent for a moment before Joffrey clapped, and the rest of them followed suit.

“Very amusing,” Joffrey said. “Isn’t it a funny song?” Hesitant laughter rippled through the assembled lords and ladies. “Thank you for your rendition. I imagine it was even better received at that tavern.”

The bard started apologizing, but Joffrey would have none of it, and made the man choose his fingers or tongue to be cut out. Eleyna looked at her elder sister with a hint of disbelief — Cersei watched the proceedings with the same faint smile she regarded all that Joffrey did with. Eleyna huffed — her sister’s parenting left much to be desired.

“I’m done for the day,” Joffrey announced as the bard screamed for mercy, standing and removing his crown. “I’ll leave the rest of the matters to you, mother.” He turned a mocking smile on Eleyna and beckoned her up to the dais. “You must have learned something from Grandfather all those years playing at heir, Aunt, you can give my mother what… little counsel you’re capable of.”

Eleyna watched her nephew walk away and wished desperately for a moment that they weren’t in court so she could smack the boy the way Tyrion often did. He stopped to speak to Sansa Stark — the poor girl was watching the bard lose his tongue with an faraway stare, and Eleyna frowned, concerned. Sansa was still betrothed to Joffrey, and frankly, doing an admirable job of it, but Joffrey was… Joffrey. Eleyna worried that the sweet, idealistic girl she’d met in Winterfell would struggle to survive Joffrey and the Southron courts. Hm. Something would have to be done about that. Maybe arrange for her to spend some time with her sister — surely Arya Stark was bored to tears locked away in her room all the time.

Eleyna watched her nephew leave with his betrothed, then leaned close enough to Cersei to not be overheard. “Will you admit now that you’ve raised a little tyrant who shouldn’t be king?”

“I would be careful were I you, dear sister,” Cersei said just as lowly, a sharp smile on her face. “Those are treasonous words.”

“What has it come to, that the truth is treason?”

“What it’s come to is that Joff is King,” Cersei said sharply. “And he is a wonderful king. There is no truth to your words, sister. I only hear jealousy. No amount of your power grabbing will ever grant you the power of the Throne.”

“Being Father’s heir is not ‘power grabbing’, sister. You’re deliberately misreading my words.”

Cersei ignored her and waved the first petitioner forward. Eleyna sighed and settled in for a long afternoon.

****

“They have Jaime.”

Eleyna blinked. It was so late at night that most of the Keep was abed, but Cersei, as was her wont, had swept into Eleyna’s room unannounced, in a dressing gown and a furious fit. “Sorry?”

“That Northern brat and his army,” Cersei spat, stopping in front of where Eleyna sat. “It’s not enough that he declared war, he’s taken Jaime hostage.” She tossed a piece of paper onto the table. “The message arrived not half an hour ago.”

Eleyna sat frozen for a moment, then leaned forward and seized the letter, scanning quickly. “Northern force 2,000 strong crushed at the Green Fork, Stark’s army of 18,000 defeated Jaime’s forces at the Whispering Wood, Jaime held as prisoner. Oh.” She looked up. “Some good news — Tyrion is with Father.”

“Oh, who cares about the little monster?” Cersei waved away. “They have Jaime.”

“How your care for others warms me,” Eleyna muttered, rolling her eyes. “Do you honestly think Robb is going to, what, execute Jaime? Jaime’s far too valuable a political prisoner, he’s highborn, both Kingsguard and a King’s uncle. If Robb has any sense — and he didn’t strike me as a fool — Jaime will be used for negotiations or a trade or something.”

“Robb?” Cersei’s eyes narrowed. “How… familiar.”

“Don’t start,” Eleyna sighed. “You’re the one who insisted I walk with him at the feast in Winterfell. You can’t be upset that I made friends with him.”

“He’s a traitor to the Crown,” Cersei said flatly. “Whatever friendships you may have formed, they’re through now. Not to mention, he has our brother hostage!”

“What, exactly, do you want me to do about it, Cersei?” Eleyna shook her head. Robb was… he’d been kind, in Winterfell. She had to trust that his honor would lend him to be as kind as possible to his prisoners. “Would you have me storm the Northern army alone, stage a rescue operation? I’m here in King’s Landing, same as you.”

Cersei humphed, glaring into the fire. She knew as well as Eleyna did — there was nothing to be done, not tonight at least, and not by either of them. Were Cersei the type of woman to bite her nails (“It’s horribly common behavior, Eleyna, can’t you at least try to act a lady?”), Eleyna suspected she would have chewed them to the quick by now. As it was, Cersei simply sniffed and barely glanced at Eleyna as she turned to leave. “Well. You’re informed, at the least. For all the good that does.”

Her voice had an angry bite to it, and Eleyna bristled. The raven message crumpled in her fist. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing at all,” Cersei murmured after a long moment. “I’m sure you’re just as worried as I.”She swept out of the room.

“‘For all the good that does’,” Eleyna muttered in a mocking voice. “Gods above, she’s infuriating.”

Still. It was worrying news, that her brother — the one sibling she could usually rely on to be there when she needed him — was a prisoner of war. It made the war seem far too real and far too close to home.

Not that Eleyna thought it would last for very long. She didn’t doubt for a second that her father would do everything in his power and then some to bring Jaime home — he was, after all, the favorite child. She was under no illusions — the only reason she was the heir to Casterly Rock was because Tywin could not convince Jaime to leave the Kingsguard, and he would die before giving it to Tyrion. Jaime was the golden son, the favored child, the intended heir. Eleyna was simply the living reminder of the broken oath to never remarry after Joanna — the oath Aerys Targaryen had forced Tywin to break — and she hadn’t even had the decency to be a son.

****

It was only a few weeks later that Eleyna stood at the gates of the Red Keep, resisting the urge to rub at her eyes. She hadn’t slept well — she heard a gurgling scream, splatters against stone the wet thud of Ned Stark’s head hitting the steps every night, saw bedsheets soaked through to the mattress, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling his blood drip out and coat white marble whenever she closed her eyes — and the heat of the midday sun was making her feel sluggish.

Tyrion was running late.

Eleyna had jumped at the chance to greet her brother in Joffrey and Cersei’s place — anything to get out of attending Joffrey’s little nameday tourney. She was finding that the less time spent around her nephew, the happier she was.

“Sister! How kind of you to welcome me!”

“Tyrion.” Her brother was followed by a pretty young woman and what looked to be a sellsword — overall, not unusual company for him. “How was the Wall? Everything you dreamed it was?”

“Cold,” Tyrion answered. “I pissed from the edge and nearly froze my cock off.”

“A harrowing experience, I’m sure,” Eleyna drawled. She fell into step next to Tyrion as he entered the Red Keep. “Who are your friends, brother?”

“Ah, yes,” Tyrion nodded, waving behind them at his companions. “This lovely man here is Bronn, a fine swordsman who saved my life in a trial by combat set by Lady Stark —”

“Of course he did.”

“— and this is Shae.”

Eleyna raised an eyebrow when he didn’t continue about Shae — she could make her own inferences about the woman, she knew the kind of ladies Tyrion preferred to keep around him — and lowered her voice. “Does Father know you’ve brought a whore to court?”

“No,” Tyrion said sharply, smiling as if everything was fine when he looked back at Shae and Bronn. “And he won’t be finding out from you. You wouldn’t rat out your dear brother, would you?”

“Hm.” Eleyna tilted her head thoughtfully. “I won’t lie to Father about her if he asks, but I suppose I won’t volunteer the information.”

“Lovely,” Tyrion replied. “Now that that’s all cleared up, I’ll get myself and Shae settled, and then why don’t you accompany me to our esteemed nephew’s nameday tournament?”

“Ah, you know, I’d love to,” Eleyna lied with a smile. “But I find this heat so overwhelming, and I feel rather sick with worry for Jaime.” That part was mostly true, even. “I believe I’ll just retire to my rooms and rest.”

“Oh, dear,” Tyrion said. She could hear the smirk. “Shall I fetch a servant to send the Grand Maester to you? I would hate for Father’s dear heiress to fall ill.”

“I’m sure you would,” Eleyna muttered, then smiled sweetly at Tyrion. “No, brother, that’s quite alright, thank you. Enjoy the tourney!”

She nodded politely to her brother’s friends and split off down a different path. Perhaps she could get some sleep in before her family inevitably interrupted.

****

When she arrived in Tyrion's solar — summoned there well after the sun had already fallen, why did her siblings have such a penchant for disrupting her evenings? — he was pouring himself another cup of wine, looking far more tired than he had when she'd seen him just that morning.

He looked up when she entered, and promptly sent Shae and Bronn from the room. "Eleyna. Good. Come, sit." He poured her a glass of wine. "We are going to put our heads together and think of a way to get Jaime back."

Eleyna looked around the solar in interest. She’d been taught about her father’s tenure as Hand of the King (“The Mad King ordered your father to marry Maryana as punishment for ‘deserting the throne and plotting against him’,” her uncle had told her in a quick, hushed voice — speaking about the way her father’s second marriage had come to be was a risky endeavor at the best of times. “Your father only complied because Aerys threatened to burn Jaime and Cersei alive, and as the Mad King had just burned the Northern lords, Tywin was forced to take his threat seriously.”). The room was rather richly furnished, at the top of a tower that overlooked the entire city. “So all this was Father's once?"

"Yes," Tyrion said impatiently. "You already knew he was Aerys Targaryen's Hand."

"Ah, but I wasn't alive for it. Knowing and seeing are different things." Eleyna took the seat across from Tyrion. "Why are you asking me about getting Jaime back? You're Father's pick for acting Hand."

"But you were friendly with the Stark boy in Winterfell," Tyrion sighed, and drained his cup. "And that is an advantage now, however small. We are losing the war. Robb Stark has proven himself good at warfare." The words were said with a measure of resignated disgust.

"Has he?" Eleyna asked, picking up her cup and feigning disinterest.

"He's won every battle he's fought," Tyrion sighed. "The men we've captured speak of him like he's the Warrior come to earth. They say he rides into battle with that beast of his—”

"Grey Wind," Eleyna supplied. "He's a direwolf, as well you know."

"I don't particularly care what the beast is named," Tyrion snapped pointedly. "I care about getting Jaime back. I would think you'd feel the same! It wasn't too many years ago you were proclaiming him your 'favorite brother' for the entire Rock to hear. Did that only last so long as you needed him not to claim his birthright?"

Eleyna glared at him. "Careful, brother, you're starting to sound like Cersei. Of course I care about freeing Jaime. I'm simply being realistic. Jaime is a valuable hostage. Robb isn't dumb, he knows we have his sisters. He won't kill Jaime whilst he can still be traded for the Stark girls."

Tyrion nodded. "And are you aware that we only have one of the Stark girls?"

Eleyna blinked. "What?"

"Mm." Wine was downed and refilled. "No one has seen Arya Stark since the execution, Cersei says. 'Little animal disappeared,' Cersei says."

"She's a little girl!" Eleyna snapped incredulously. "How did we lose a little girl? I assumed she was being confined to her chambers, not... not missing!"

"I asked Cersei much the same thing and she did not have an answer," Tyrion said conversationally. "There will be no chance of peace, not now that Joffrey's chopped Ned Stark's head off and we've lost one of the Stark children." He shook his head. "Father will be furious."

“An eleven year old highborn girl,” Eleyna sighed. “And the gold cloaks can’t find her? What do we pay them for, then?” She held up a hand to stop him from responding. “Without both Stark girls—”

"I know."

They sat in silence for a long, long moment. The red of the wine was dark and glinted in the flickering firelight when she swirled it. It was very nearly the same color that had stained the Sept stairs when… well. It reminded her of Sansa’s trembling form in her arms that day. She looked up at her brother.

"We can't leave Sansa alone in the Keep as she has been," Eleyna said quietly. "Do you know Joff showed her where he’d staked her father and septa's heads? I… worry for her safety with him." Tyrion hummed thoughtfully. Eleyna pressed on. "I'm going to assign one of my guards to her. From what I've seen, the Hound does what he can for her, but he is Joffrey’s shield. I’d feel better if she had her own.”

“Feel better?” Tyrion repeated. “Are you carrying a guilty conscience, sister? Why? It’s not as though you gave the order for Lord Stark’s death.”

“No,” Eleyna agreed. “But I did nothing to stop it. I want to keep his daughter safe until she can be gotten out, for both Lord Starks.”

"Take Sansa Stark under your protection then," Tyrion said finally, regarding her with an expression that told her he thought her too attached to their enemy. "You are effectively the acting Lady of Casterly Rock in King's Landing right now. Declare Sansa to be your honored guest, or tell everyone that you're teaching her the Southron ways. Either way, a guard won’t be questioned, and the Starkling will be safe until this war with her brother is over.”

"He'll have to send terms for release and surrender soon enough," Eleyna pointed out. “It may be over quicker than we think.”

"Such optimism. Our dear sister and nephew would never agree to them," Tyrion refuted. "To say nothing of Father. He is bound and determined to win this war."

"But at the cost of his favorite child's life?" Eleyna pointed out. "Father rode to war largely because you were Lady Stark's captive. Surely he'd agree to peace for Jaime."

"I suppose we'll have to wait and see." But Tyrion didn't sound at all convinced. "Either way..." He raised his cup in toast. "To the end of peace. May it have mercy and leave us alive.”

taglist: @dipperscavern @justmymindandstuff @thecrownprincessbride

[ravenbrenna09]

imagine 2.0...

Imagine in season 4, we constantly keep hearing about “Milan’s cousin” from Zoë or Milan, when he shows up. Since the season is in Yasmina’s POV, we’re constantly hearing Zoë talk about it, at school, at the flatshare when they’re studying, in interrupted-conversations between Zoë and Robbe. Imagine that in the final scene of the season, Milan shows up at the gathering and in tow, he brings a blond-haired Dutch guy in a button-up shirt and introduces him to the Broerrrs (whether Jens is introduced to him at this time can go either way), saying that he’s going to be going to their school after the Christmas holidays and moving in with Milan. The final shot of the season is Lucas staring at Jens who is across the room with someone. 

Now, imagine the start of the season following season is a split POV of Jens and Lucas. Jens, being wtfock’s Jonas, is technically a blocked character and Lucas is another remake’s Isak. But, we start the season where the Isak character is the new student at the school and the “Even” (in this case, Jens) is the student who has always gone to the school. 

Imagine the season in constant reverse of the typical story that we have known over the course of so many remakes, but it’s also changed in a way that makes it interesting. The two of them meet up at school in some possible way, either through being partners in a class or getting to know each other through Robbe or Zoë. We possibly see that Jens is struggling with his own sexuality and the fact that he has feelings for this new student, who is also a guy (and the possible mild jealousy that comes when another group of friends comes to visit him on the weekends). Imagine Jens trying to figure it all out. Imagine him going to the one person that he knows has had feelings for guys and girls as well as being an outside opinion that he can trust. Sander.

(Guru Sander gives me life, okay?)

Imagine Jens snatching Sander away from Robbe one day when they were all meant to hang out (“Jens, what’s going on”, “I’m stealing your boyfriend! Don’t worry I’ll give him back!”). Imagine Jens and Sander going to a café to talk about Jens’ growing feelings. Imagine that as soon as they all meet up, Robbe is curious with both of them for information, but gives Jens space when he says that he’ll tell him when he’s ready. 

But, and this is the thing that I’ve struggled with, in the typical Isak-Even storyline, we always have some sort of secret that the Even is keeping from his Isak. But, what would be ‘Even’s’ secret? Being the “Even” in this case, we know a lot about Jens’ character. The only secret that he had in season 1 was his smoking that he kept from Jana because he knew that she didn’t like it. We know about his family (but we could see more of it in this ‘season’). And, as far as we know, he doesn’t have anything in terms of his own mental health. 

But, what if the Even wasn’t the one to have the mental-health storyline?

What if the Isak had the storyline? 

What if part of his story is coming to terms with it? What if we followed Lucas through the process of getting diagnosed, the ups and downs that surely come with it? What if we see how Lucas is struggling with it? From what I remember about the other remakes + OG, Even had already been diagnosed. But, what if we get to see the struggles that come with it? 

[I know it would be a lot for the cast and crew to work with, but judging with how much work they did with research about Robbe’s story (both the writers and the actors) and Yasmina’s, I would feel confident (but nervous because it’s such a big topic) that they would do it the right way and make it as realistic and believable as possible, but until Lucas gets his own season and an Even to call his own, I’m going to keep wearing my clown makeup soooooooo...]

[janiedean]

2 3 7 15 16 17 22 :P

OKAY

2. What writing taboos do you break consistently?

in english: run on sentences? I mean I made peace with the fact that I physically can’t write short sentences, once I was fairly self-conscious about it but honestly I can’t give two fucks anymore especially since people did tell me that apparently they like my stuff because I do long sentences sooo. whatever. long-live run-on sentences xD

3. What POV do you prefer and why?

each for any sort of relevant fandom I have rn/have on ao3

asoiaf: jaime, because I can let my horrible sense of humor run free and he’s fun to write and I like his voice and his chapters are my technical faves in the original text so

spn: dean. same taste in music, same taste in people, we have enough in common, I can swear to my heart’s delight

dark tower: eddie, because I’d like to think I prefer writing my fave character in existence over others

marvel stuff: tbh bucky or rictor + either danny or colleen they’re about the same as far as difficulty goes

voltron: *shrug* keith *shrug* idk people who don’t talk much who go around showing how much issues they have through suicidal actions speak to me

7. Do you prefer writing dialogue or narration?

dialogue, but tbh it’s not that much of a preference, what I hate is editing xD anyway I find dialogue a lot easier

15. Do you let people read your rough drafts?

well they read my second draft, I wouldn’t send anyone the FIRST draft without editing it xD but yeah sure

16. What do you do with your rough drafts once you write a new draft?

I edit on the same document so like... if I made a different one for some reason I keep it bc I never delete anything but I tend to do everything on one file, I don’t care enough to do different drafts lol

17. How do you handle writer’s block?

I don’t write for three days and then do a completely different thing and then go back to the thing after I let it rest for a solid week

22. Do you “write what you know” or not?

lmao no. or better: I try to put something I know of in what I write but if I wrote what I knew you’d get fanfics about philosophy students with self-esteem issues spending their lives and money on used records, arguing on whether led zeppelin should reunite or not (spoilers: NOPE) and they’d all be set in europe in places I’ve been and they’d all drive an automatic car.

like, if I write a modern au 90% some character will like some music I also enjoy or will watch a movie I’ve seen or will have gone somewhere I’ve been to or whatever, and if we’re talking about characters I relate to I do write what I know (ie: brienne haahahahaa *cries*) but I mean if I only wrote what I knew I couldn’t write mm ships nor th*robb nor most things I like and like I wrote a bunch of bastille day fic and I’m not a thief neither an fbi agent, if I ever do murder mysteries it won’t be because I killed anyone so XD I believe in putting parts of yourself in what you write but the concept of write *just* what you know is dumb and anyone can write anything with enough research. sure there’s topics I wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole because I don’t think I could make them justice but XD