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peterjakes · 4 months ago

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Theon x Sansa - 'we unravelled a long time ago' Chapter 4

The time has finally come. Theon Greyjoy is almost fully recovered and Sansa Stark is becoming accustomed to her new position. Neither want Theon to leave, but neither can quite admit how they feel just yet. Or maybe they can?

WHY OH WHY DID THIS TAKE SO LONG TO WRITE?!!?

also you can tell I got bored when writing the dialogue hahaha - look we don't need to describe Sansa and Arya okay - they're sisters

I'm not 100% on this but it's been like 2 years lol so we'll go with it

I will always hold a special place in my heart for these two.

thanks as ever for reading x

also posted on ao3;

It was a dark night in Winterfell. The guards were shivering down below, whilst their Queen sat high above. Sansa, eyebrows furrowed and eyes focused, was sitting in her chambers, scribbling on a piece of parchment. Arya, who was sitting opposite her, spinning her blade around her fingers, was watching her sister. She didn’t think there could be anything more tedious than the ‘duties’ her sister would harp on about. And yet for some reason, here Arya was keeping her sister company. She supposed she didn’t have much else to entertain herself, not at this hour anyway. But Sansa suddenly stopped, placed her quill on top of the piece of parchment and looked over to her sister. Arya was taken aback, Sansa never liked it when Arya would stare at her. It was mostly glares growing up, but staring was not much better.

“Arya. I was thinking. Once, I officially become Queen. There’s certain positions that need to be filled. Master of Coin, Ships, Laws-“

“War, Whispers.” Arya smirked as continued to spin her knife, watching as the silver glint surrounded the room.

“Well, I’m not too sure on those ones. But Lord Commander, Grand Maester…” These positions in Kings Landing were filled by deceitful men, who would plot a downfall so swift no one ever saw it coming. You would not cross these men, for they had more power than people knew. That was something her that would have saved her father. The honourable Ned Stark, loyal, trusting and foolish. Sansa would not make the same mistakes as her father. She owed that to him.

“A lot of decisions.”

“I can’t do it by myself, I need your help, Arya. As my sister, I need you.”

“I’d be honoured, Your Grace. But you have to promise me.”

Sansa sighed; nothing was ever simple with Arya. There was always something. She always seemed to complicate things. “Promise you what?”

“That you’ll tell him, eventually.” Arya gave a sister a knowing smile, once that Sansa couldn’t reciprocate. It was something unspoken between the two sisters. Arya knew exactly what Sansa was thinking in that moment, like many moments before. Sansa couldn’t deny her sister knew her better than anyone, especially know almost everyone they knew growing up was gone.

“Arya…”

Arya shrugged, placing her knife back in her scabbard, “Well, you know what to do if you want my services.”

Theon was sat upright in the bed he soon would no longer call his own. He had realised in the last few days how uncomfortable the bed really was. He didn’t complain, who would really care if the Ironborn traitor couldn’t sleep? But he had hardly slept the past few days. Though, Theon imagined this wasn’t due to the bed, rather something else that was constantly on his mind. Theon would soon leave Winterfell, and he would very unlikely never return. What we he doing? Why was he going along with something he hated the idea of? Oh yes, that’s right. Duty. Honour. His sister. And Theon didn’t deserve to decide what he wanted. He had promised his sister to stand by his side, and he couldn’t take that back, not now. No matter what he felt about a certain Northern Queen.

The Maester was checking on Theon’s wounds, but the two had sat in silence, Theon did not know for how long. He didn’t particularly feel like speaking, especially to the Maester. There was one person he would gladly speak to, and yet he assumed she was far too busy for Theon now. A difficult conversation would have to be had soon, however. Theon couldn’t put it off any longer. Yara grew more agitated by the second, she would not wait forever, and Theon couldn’t expect her to. Theon Greyjoy would have to go home, back to the Iron Islands, back to Pyke. Theon would go back to the place he had yearned for all his childhood. And yet, Theon could not think of anything worse in that moment. Theon did not want to leave, so why did he feel so compelled to do so? He couldn’t take advantage of the Starks hospitality any longer. Sansa and Arya had been gracious, more than Theon deserved, or even expected. Hostility would have been more suited to the man Theon believed himself to be.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the Maester seemed to slow down. He had discarded a number of bloodied wrappings that were once on Theon’s legs and seemed to be adding only a few new ones. “I’d like to go outside, if...” Theon spoke, almost not recognizing his own voice. It was small, and quiet, as if he didn’t want the Maester to truly hear him.

“Very good, m’lord. You’ll need to become accustomed to walking again soon. Now is a better time than any.”

Theon watched as the Maester wrapped the last of the cloth around his leg. The pain had faltered in the past few days, and Theon knew he couldn’t stay lying in this bed forever, no matter how much he wanted to. It was odd, Theon spent years and years yearning to be taken home. Waiting for his father to save him from the Starks and Northerners. And yet now, with his sister waiting to take him back home, he didn’t want it. Pyke would seem so small, so quiet in comparison to Winterfell now. Something was achieved here, something Northerners would remember for centuries. The myths, the stories, the songs. And the one person who was almost as hated as the Lannister Queen, was a part of that. Theon could admit only to himself that he felt some sense of pride. It made all those years he was so angry worth it. Even if it was only a little bit.

It took Theon an exceptionally but predictable long time to even get down to the courtyard. He refused any help from the Maester, he couldn’t bear to look at his face, filled with sympathy. It wasn’t that Theon didn’t want his sympathy; he just didn’t believe he deserved it. He could walk quite well now, only limping every so often. The pain had subsided too, it was more of an ache now, as if Theon was lugging around something heavy.

The courtyard was still covered in the white snow, though it was a warmer day, with the sun shining down. Theon noticed her straight away. Her auburn hair shone in the winter sun. She had styled it different today, embroidered with some kind of winter flower. She was speaking to a guard, deep in conversation. Theon couldn’t make out what was being said, only that he felt an odd sense of pride watching Sansa there. She looked quite beautiful in the morning glow. Yes, Theon could admit that to himself in the moment. All senses of what was right and the duty he had for his sister fell apart, just for that second. Sansa had always been beautiful, no one could deny that, and Theon had always thought so. But standing there, something had changed. Theon wasn’t entirely certain what his feelings were for Sansa, he couldn’t quite explain it. He just knew he felt them so strongly, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep them to himself. Maybe it was for the best that they would part ways. Theon didn’t deserve to have those feelings for someone like Sansa. She deserved better.

He waited a moment, watching her gesture quickly, before he made his way over to her. Sansa must have heard him coming, or felt his presence at least, as she didn’t move until Theon was barely inches away from her, as if she was preparing herself. She turned to face Theon and smiled. Her eyes glossed over Theon’s injury and wooden stick that was supporting him. A little sadness seemed to travel across her eyes, worry perhaps. She cared about Theon’s health; he knew that much. He supposed he should be grateful for that at least.

“Lady Sansa.” Theon nodded, attempting to bow but failing miserably and completely embarrassing himself in front of her. Sansa didn’t seem to notice, her eyes fixated on Theon’s face and only his face.

“Maester Wolkan mentioned you were feeling better.”

“I am.”

“That’s good. I suppo-“

“I think-“

Theon wasn’t sure what he was going to say in that moment, and a sense of relief almost engulfed him when Sansa began to spoke at the same time. Anything she had to say would be far more important, of course it would. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be going home soon.” Sansa continued to walk, but decided the snow patches on the ground were far more interesting that anything else in that moment. She couldn’t look at Theon, Theon could sense that. He didn’t think his facial scars were all that bad. They had healed pretty quickly, all things considered. Theon was the opposite. He didn’t want to take his eyes off Sansa for one moment. It would be a moment too soon. Leaving Sansa and Winterfell was not what Theon wanted to do, but he had to. He didn’t want to forget Sansa. Didn’t want to forget how softly spoken she was with Theon. Didn’t want to forget the small freckles dotted around her cheeks. Didn’t want to forget the way she made him feel. He would memorise everything about her, her features, her laugh, her smile, her favourite colour. Everything. That is what he would take and treasure.

“Er, yes. I suppose I will.”

“Your sister seems quite agitated.” Sansa motioned towards the Ironborn Queen, who was in that moment sat crossed legged ranting at the blacksmith. Theon only caught glimpses of the conversation, but it did not sound like a jovial debate. It never was with Yara.

“She doesn’t like the North.” Theon sighed. It was a sentiment he had felt from the moment he stepped foot in Winterfell all those years ago with Ned Stark. But a part of Theon knew he never truly hated the North or Winterfell or even the Starks. He couldn’t. He hated himself more than anything now.

“No, I don’t suppose she does. I’m not sure how well a Northerner would do in the Iron Islands.”

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“She doesn’t like us Starks.”

“Have Greyjoys ever? My father didn’t.”

“I don’t know…things can change.” Sansa turned to Theon, her eyes locking onto his. She was blinking quickly, her breath hitched, though Theon may have imagined that. He too felt his heartbeat quicken the moment Sansa’s eyes found his. They didn’t stay for long, however. But moved down to his nose, and then his mouth. Sansa must have seen Theon noticing where her eyes fell to, she quickly focused back onto the courtyard, her eyebrows furrowed. What was she thinking? A question both Theon and Sansa pondered at.

“Sansa, you should eat something.” The two Stark sisters were sat opposite each other. They rarely ate in the dining hall. It was far too big for just the two of them, so they would often sit in Sansa’s chambers.

“Is there anything left?”

“Plenty! That,” Arya grabbed the scroll that was taking all of Sansa’s attention and slid it across the table. “Can wait.”

Sansa sighed, “Fine, fine.”

“I haven’t seen you lately, have you been ignoring me?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous.”

“But you’ve been ignoring something else? Or someone.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Are you going to make me spell it out?”

Sansa shrugged her shoulders; she was so tired and didn’t think she had the strength or energy to argue with her sister any longer.

“When does he leave?”

“If you’re talking about Theon-”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“A matter of days, I suppose.”

“I don’t like her. His sister.”

“Hm. I think the feeling’s shared.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. Theon has to go home eventually.”

“I always thought Winterfell was his home.”

“Well, it’s not.” Sansa snapped, glaring at Arya. She was getting too angry at the wrong person and her sister wouldn’t thank her for that. But it was like Arya had no real idea what she was talking about. She had no idea what Sansa was feeling, how confusing and complicated it all was.

“Sansa.”

“What?”

“I’m your sister, I know you better than anyone else, yes?”

“Yes, Arya. Unfortunately.”

“So, you can tell me.”

“And what is it I’m supposed to be telling you?”

“Are you being intentionally dense?”

“That’s your Queen you’re talking to.”

Arya sighed, of course Sansa would try to pull rank, “Sansa, please. I’m not an idiot. And nor is he.”

“I don’t know-”

“You can admit it, you know.”

“Admit what?”

“That you don’t want him to leave!” Arya exasperated, jabbed her fork into the wooden table. Sansa jumped at this, a little exaggerated Arya thought. But her sister was always so dramatic, making problems when it was quite clear to Arya what the answer was.

“It sounds like you’re the one that doesn’t, not me.”

“Well, that’s not true. But I have become used to Theon being here again. Like when we were younger. Before...everything changed.”

Sansa stayed silent for a moment. “Maybe there’s some truth to that.” Annoyingly, Arya was right. It wasn’t just Sansa, Arya felt it too, as did many others at Winterfell. It was right to have Theon there. He was a hero after all.

“Of course, there is. I’m never wrong.”

“Oh, you are, plenty, Arya.”

“Beside the point. So, what are we going to do about it?”

“There’s nothing to be done. I can hardly command him to stay.”

“Why not?”

“Arya.”

Arya shrugged, “I would.” Sansa wondered how much of that was true. The Baratheon bastard had followed her around like a lost puppy before the battle and even after. But it wasn’t long before he was bidding her a frosty farewell.

“Which is why you’re not the Queen.”

“Maybe for the best.”

“Yes.”

“So, you don’t want him to leave because...of what?”

There was no point delaying or trying to dissuade Arya from the topic of conversation. Sansa would just have to face it. She was becoming sick of doing things she didn’t want to. Surely being Queen had some perks. “When I came back to Winterfell, promised to Ramsey, you were all gone. Father, Mother, Robb, Jon, you, Bran, and Rickon. Almost everyone we grew up with, disappeared, missing, dead, forgotten”

“But Theon.”

“Yes. Sometimes it still feels strange being here again. I thought this time, he perhaps would stay. Having a choice.”

“Does he?”

“Well, yes.”

“So, you’d miss him?”

“Yes, Arya, I would.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why would you miss him? It can’t just because of Father, or Robb.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you, Sansa.”

“As you keep reminding me.”

“Sansa-”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.”

“You just don’t seem very happy.”

“Fine. I don’t want him to leave. I want him to stay! But there’s nothing to be done.”

“You could tell him.”

“That wouldn’t make a difference.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It may not, and then where would we be? I couldn’t just confess-”

“It isn’t some dark secret, Sansa. It makes perfect sense.”

“If I did, and he still...” “And besides, I couldn’t do that. Make someone choose. I wouldn’t be the choice.”

“You don’t know-”

“I do, Arya. I can’t.” “I’m the Queen of the North now, I have duties that are far more important.”

“I can sense we’re not going to get anywhere. Are you going to finish that?” Arya had been eyeing up Sansa’s plate for most of the conversation. She was hungrier than ever. All the arguing.

“Have it.”

Theon knocked gently on the bedchamber door. He knew Sansa was in there, probably far too busy for him, but he knew he’d have to just stop being a coward and tell her. He didn’t want to tell her. He would rather do anything else. Well, maybe not everything. But he had to. He knew that.

“Come,” Sansa’s voice travelled through the door, and Theon obeyed, slowly opening it to find her standing in the middle of the room. She had her hands on her hips and was intently reading a piece of parchment.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Oh, no.” Sansa looked up to find Theon waiting anxiously by the door. She placed the scroll down and turned to face him fully.

“Your new position, it’s keeping you busy?” Theon gestured towards the mountain of parchment and scrolls sprawled across the wooden table in the middle of the room.

“Very. Everyone who came to Winterfell for safety, the ones that survived, have all gone home now. But that doesn’t mean we have enough to feed or clothe everyone...I sometimes wished I’d paid more attention when I was in King’s Landing or perhaps to Father.” Sansa sighed. She didn’t want to burden Theon with her problems, which seemed so insignificant compared to his plight. And yet, he was the only person she wanted to speak to. About how she was feeling, how he was making her feel. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t destroy the last shred of happiness Theon would have once he set foot back home, where he belonged. No matter what Sansa thought.

“I’m sure you’ll get there.” Without you. Sansa couldn’t help but fill her brain of these thoughts. Theon was leaving Winterfell. He was leaving her. She doubted she would ever lay eyes on Theon Greyjoy again, and that pained her terribly. He looked so handsome in the light. Now most of his wounds had disappeared, Sansa could see his face properly. It was as if she was transported back to the younger self, watching Theon strut around Winterfell’s courtyard. She’d always thought he was handsome, though a little smug for her taste. She didn’t dare tell anyone, especially Robb. Oh, the teasing! But Sansa wasn’t a little girl pining over a Ironborn Prince. She was a Queen. But that didn’t mean queens couldn’t feel the way Sansa did. The way she wanted Theon to feel.

“Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes. I, uh, spoke to my sister. She wants to leave in the morning.”

Oh. Sansa hadn’t expected that, not one bit. This was far too soon. This didn’t give her enough time at all. But how could she tell him no? It wasn’t her decision to make. Theon was his own person and could very well do as he pleased. It wasn’t for Sansa to have complicated feelings about it. She was being selfish. “On the ‘morrow?”

“Yes.”

“So soon.”

Theon nodded, blinking repeatedly. Sansa watched as Theon attempted to give her a small smile, though he looked pained to do so. Did he want to stay? Was that what he was trying to tell Sansa? She was more confused than ever. Why couldn’t he just say it? Why couldn’t she?

“You’re not asking for permission?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. Should I?”

“No, Theon. Please, don’t.” Sansa moved forward, closing the gap between the two of them. Theon watched as she walked. She seemed more vulnerable in this moment, as if she was laying herself bare just for Theon. Only for Theon.

“Right. I just...wanted to tell you, in person.” Theon moved as if was going to say something else but stopped himself.

“Thank you.”

Beat. An awkward silence.

“Is there anything you need before you go?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so.” Theon answered, far too formal for Sansa’s liking.

“Of course. Well, you will be missed, I’m sure.”

“Oh.”

“The Hero of the Godswood.”

“Very funny, Sansa.”

“I’m not jesting. The North remembers, does it not?”

“Of course, it does.”

Sansa smiled; she tried to at least look happy for Theon. This was supposed to be a good thing. Theon was going home. He was recovered enough that he could travel. But Sansa felt anything but happy. And she was sure her face couldn’t hide that.

“Arya will miss you.”

“Will she?”

“She’s become oddly sentimental recently. I suppose…you remind her of Robb. Of home.”

“Sansa-“

“I will miss you too, of course.”

“Of course…” Theon echoed Sansa’s comment, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sansa would miss him. And she had openly admitted it. Well, of course she would. They had something shared the two of them. And Theon had come back to her, to Winterfell, for Winterfell. A small part of Theon pushed its way to the forefront of his mind, the small part that had a tiny glimmer of hope. The hope that Sansa felt as Theon did. That there was a chance Theon could have some happiness in his miserable life. This part of Theon had been pushed down, pushed away. Sansa had never shown any true interest, and it was comical to think so. But now, the way she stopped when Theon admitted he was leaving so soon. The way she spoke so softly to him. The way she was the first person to see Theon when he woke. The way she told him she would miss him. That maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to go.

“I’m sure you’ll be happy to go.” Sansa spoke so softly, and yet it bought Theon back to reality, shattering that slimmer of hope he had. No, of course, not. Sansa would miss him, as she would miss anyone. But she was happy to see him leave. Too many memories. Theon was not a good person, especially to Sansa and the Starks. Why should he deserve any true happiness? He was alive. That was all he got. The old gods had been merciful, and Theon should be grateful. Dreaming of anything changing between him and Sansa was a folly, it couldn’t be.

“You’ll be happy to have me out of your hair.” Sansa didn’t understand why Theon seemed so intent on putting himself down. She could never think like that and would not. She wanted to tell him that wasn’t true. That she couldn’t think of anything worse than him leaving her. She wanted him to know how she truly felt. But it wouldn’t make a difference. Theon was leaving, he wanted to, otherwise why would he go?

“We never saw it like that, Theon. Never.” Theon took a sharp intake of breath, but he stayed silent. Sansa waited for Theon, for him to understand what she was saying. Theon caught a glimpse of something in Sansa’s eyes, almost as if she was pleading with him. What was she saying? Was she yearning as much as he was? She couldn’t be, she couldn’t feel as Theon did. Why would she? What did Theon have that Sansa could want? He’d betrayed her, her family. He’d destroyed so much. And yet, Theon could feel his mask failing, his wall falling. He so longed for Sansa to reciprocate how he felt. He longed to mustier up the courage to voice his feelings. To tell Sansa how important she was to him, how he believed he couldn’t live a true life without her. How he would think of her noon until nightfall. How she plagued his dreams, how she soothed his nightmares. How her kindness, her softness, her delicateness, were the only things that brought Theon joy. How could he ever tell her that? Putting those feelings into words would be difficult enough. But he couldn’t. He had to let her go. And she had to let him. It was the only way.

“Well, I’ll be sure to bid you farewell in the morning.”

Theon nodded, “Thank you, Sansa. I’ll, uh, leave you to...”

Before Sansa could return her thanks, Theon had left. He’d disappeared completely. Slipped out. Just as he would the next morning. Theon Greyjoy was leaving, and there was absolutely nothing Sansa could do about that. She was losing him.

Upon waking the next morning, Theon realised he had almost not sleep at all that night. He wasn’t particularly surprised. How could he? The early morning was spent trying not to overthink everything that Sansa had said. The way she looked at him. The small smiles she would give only to Theon. How sad she looked when Theon told her of his plan to leave. But he couldn’t help himself. How could he not think anything of it? He couldn’t bear to think of what could have been. He didn’t want to think of Sansa. But she followed him everywhere. He couldn’t not think of her. Her ugly laugh whenever she found something funny. The depth of her hair, and how it trailed down her back. Her fingers touching Theon’s. How she had sat with Theon almost every morning after he woke up. The way her eyes sparkled whenever she was excited. Theon didn’t want to part with those memories, with those feelings. He couldn’t. And soon that would be all he had left of Sansa.

“Sansa. Sansa!”

Sansa stood, next to her sister, up high on the balcony. The two sisters were watching the commotion in the courtyard. The Ironborn soldiers along with their Queen and Theon were crowding around. There was laughter, shouting, drinking. Arya thought they were all very pleased to be leaving, just as many Winterfell folk were glad, they were going.

“Yes?”

Arya glanced over to the courtyard, noticing the young Greyjoy talking to the Maester. Sansa’s eyes were still fixed on him, though her expression was unreadable. “Are you listening or are you slightly distracted?”

“I don’t know what you mean; I’m listening.” Sansa was frowning, but didn’t take her eyes off the courtyard. She couldn’t bring herself to. She wanted to watch Theon until the moment he was no longer visible. It was the only thing she could do in that moment. “Proceed.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes.”

“He’s off then.”

“Yes, Arya, he is.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Arya-“

“Clearly not, he wouldn’t be leaving if you did.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. Sansa-“

“Arya, please!”

“Did you say goodbye?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I suppose that’s settled.”

“Arya-“

“You’ll have to find a new candidate.” And with that, Arya stormed off, speeding down the steps. Oh, great.

“Arya!”

Sansa’s eyes found Theon, still stood in the courtyard. His sister walked away, leaving him alone down below. Sansa wasn’t sure how long it was until Theon glanced up to find her still watching him. Sansa wasn’t embarrassed this time. This may have been the last time she would ever look upon his face. She was going to treasure it. Memorise all of his features. The way his curls bounced around his face, the slight stubble he had grown since being at Winterfell, how calm his eyes looked now the fighting was over. She would remember it all. All of it.

Sansa smiled at Theon, waiting for him to respond. But he couldn’t return it.

And as Arya said, that was that. Theon Greyjoy was gone. And Sansa Stark would just have to put up with it.

The Ironborn party hadn’t been riding long when one of the soldiers stopped in his tracks. Theon had been trying to think of anything but the red-headed Stark but had failed miserably. In a sense, it was a relief to have something to distract him from her, even for just a moment.

“Stop! We have a shadow.”

“What-”

Only a few feet away, was a young boy, a servant boy; Theon remembered him. He ran around the courtyard not long before the Battle of Winterfell, playing with, whom Theon presumed, his sisters. And it seemed he was running again, but this time, towards Theon.

“Lord. Theon.” The boy was panting hard, clearly from running all the way from Winterfell. It must have been at least a few miles. But he still made sure to bow in front of Theon. Theon hated when people did that. ‘Lord Theon’! What a joke.

“Yes?”

“The. Queen. She. Sent me.”

“Good gods, will he get on with it?” Yara was tired of this. She had spent far too long in Winterfell, in the North. She needed the Iron Islands, and as soon as possible.

“He just needs to catch his breath.”

“Well, Theon. You stay with him while he does. Ride on!” Yara turned away from her brother, to continue riding. Theon watched the Ironborn soldiers follow suit and waited until they were out of earshot. He moved himself off his horse and knelt down, so he was level with the young boy.

“She sent me. To give you this.” The small boy held out his hand. Something wrapped in cloth stood before Theon, waiting to be unwrapped. Theon didn’t understand, he couldn’t think of anything Sansa would want to give him. The servant boy waited for Theon to unravel the item. To Theon’s surprise, it seemed to be a pin of some sort. A wolf’s head. The Stark crest. Theon held it in his hand, up to the dim light of the early morning. He rubbed his index finger over the wolf, feeling the smoothness drag across his skin. Sansa had given him this. To remember her by perhaps? Or was it something more. Theon never believed himself to be a Stark. But he didn’t truly feel like a Greyjoy either. Maybe he could be one, maybe this was proof. Theon did belong somewhere, but he was going in the wrong direction.

“Thank you. Will you tell the Queen...”

“Yes, m’lord.”

This gift seemed to explain how Sansa felt without saying a word. And Theon Greyjoy was leaving her for Pyke. What on earth was he doing?

4 notes · View notes

boleynqueenes · 5 months ago

Note

🪡 + Anne & George Boleyn

apparently the needle sewing thread emoji is not allowed, anymore? this feels hateful, somehow...let me find :

🧵(guess that works): send me + two characters and i’ll talk about their dynamic!

they are best friends, to make no exaggeration. they have close friends, but no one else holds a candle to the closeness of this bond, at the end of the day. they're close enough as children that he thinks of that symmetry once she returns, and they've grown up, it sticks with him: thirteen blue moons apart (1513-21), thirteen steps to her door. he helps her adjust to and navigate court life once she's back, she ensures that he can marry jane (this lays a stepping stone with her future relationship with henry-- they have a formal acquaintance at most, at that juncture, but he asks what had upset jane to the extent that he saw her need to be consoled, she answers about the shortfall of the dowry her father will not accept, and he pays for the remainder...it's a generosity she doesn't easily forget)

they dream together, they joke together, they plan together.

the flip side of this coin is that they both idealize each other to such a degree that they hold each other to higher standards (in morals, success, strength and mistakes) than they do anyone else, and are harder on each other than anyone else. george becomes cruel and intractable towards anyone that he sees as having threatened her honour (and this even, and especially, includes their sister), anne becomes the same towards anyone she views as countermanding him (this is the beginning of her rift with cromwell, and to some degree, even henry).

and they are also not entirely honest with each other. anne doesn't tell him she's afraid until she literally cannot hide it anymore, he didn't tell her of tyburn until it came out in an argument (he's becoming collusive with henry in hiding things from her, and has mixed feelings about it, including guilt, ever since they hid news of the papal decree against them during her first pregnancy), she, if anyone caught it, remained silent (of sorts...) on whether or not she tried to intercede, here:

"I know you, and I know your vision, and I believe that which I had to witness was something you were against. I believe that you spoke against it to the king." Anne does not answer or gesture, other than rubbing her right temple with her first two fingers and latching her gaze onto the frieze that frames the fireplace. "So yes, I believe in you, Anne. But I do not know if I believe your influence with the king is the same as it once was." "You are wrong."

#neverwherewrites #spoilers? sort of.#for the very very last #bcus that is going to come up again; as i've plotted it #once he returns to court and confronts her over the reprieve of mary's estrangement

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river-in-the-woods · 1 year ago

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I’ve just begun studying the Tao (as a philosophy) and I’ve had this feeling I might also need to study Buddhism as well. There’s been moments I feel like the two paths intersect, but provided different perspectives of the same, or, similar picture.

As a Buddhist practitioner, would you say Taoism and Buddhism are two sides of the same coin?

Ah, how are you finding it?

I wouldn't say they're two sides of the same coin. More like they are siblings who have shared experiences, but are also individual and complete in their own right. Both Taoism and Buddhism have philosophies that engage the intellect, as well as their respective social, political, cultural and spiritual aspects. My impression is that they tackle life's issues with slightly different mindsets. Different perspectives, as you say.

I'd encourage you to study both if you have the interest, but I do believe they ultimately lead toward the same thing. Being kind, wise, honourable and skillful, with vast knowledge of the world and deep understanding of themselves, and the will to elevate others – these are qualities of both the Taoist sage and the Bodhisattva.

The thing is, I am a practitioner, not a scholar 😄. I see the value in philosophy and lore insofar as I can understand it and put it to use. If you talk to me about philosophy, I will ask you how it can be used in everyday life.

In that regard, I would say Buddhism is a lot more accessible than Taoism. By and large, Buddhists seem to have a much greater interest in outreach, in spreading the teachings and holding events and gatherings worldwide. With Taoism, one has to invest a lot more time and resources to go beyond a reading list or making offerings at a shrine.

In any case, I encourage you to supplement your learning with action and practice, with others to guide you. These are not only philosophies to be studied, debated or understood only intellectually, but also semantically, experientially. They are meant to engage mind, body, heart and spirit, all.

What you do not learn in the textbook, you will learn from reflection, practice, and engaging with your community. Whichever you choose to pursue should be the one that inspires you to live more fully.

#buddhism #taoism #cultivation #inbox #fyrispirit

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6okuto-moved · 3 years ago

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hcs for rime and felix dealing with an mc who wears jfashion like fairy kei? super self indulgent but pls. or an mc who wants to get into it but is worried ppl will judge them

— rime and felix with an mc into j-fashion

ohhh a lot of j-fashion scratches my brain good choice !! if ur worried about people judging just remember there's also people who'd be in awe and appreciation . u r the person i'd see in public and be like Wish that was Me...wish we were friends...

very different from either of their own styles but they support it fr!

they'd probably ask about the history behind it and why they dress that way but at the end of the day ! cool person with cool style

if we're talking about astraea,, i don't think fairy kei fashion would be Easy To Find. if possible?? but they'd sure go looking! if all else fails it's time to use capitalism and pay someone baby

as somebody whose friends constantly say "Do it. Buy it right now." ,, neither of them seem like good impulse control

other than rime stopping them with stuff like "that won't suit you as well as the other top"

on the bright side that means mc can't easily back out of buying some pieces that fit the aesthetic

rime is the friend who doesn't back down and aggressively compliments you. it's the "shut the hell up are you serious you'd pull that off so well buy it right now." y'know

like mc already looks good in the clothes they have. imagine if they wore things that they really liked and felt confident in. come on you know you want to

and it may be the complete opposite of everything felix has going on but that just means he empathizes with their fear

felix :handshake: mc two sides of the same coin

they can be like the meme with the black and pink houses !

felix and mc making a deal to indulge in their interests as long as the other does while they're out shopping

if anybody sends looks their way felix and rime are now on either side of them and glaring back/distracting them

also i don't think mc would be the only person they'd look at. jumping from looking at them to felix to rime and it's just like oh . an alt/queer friend group HLEPSFJAD

they also just,, act normally. do you know what i mean . like when you feel like you're standing out but your friends just accept it and you kinda forget about your anxiety . yeah

anyway they also compliment mc's outfits all the time

especially little accessories or details that they notice so mc knows it's sincere

also i know wigs/dyed hair? are part of fairy kei and i do think they'd help manage them . you might be like Felix?? but he'd try his best he's careful when he needs to be/mc asks i think :[

if they notice mc feeling a little nervous or insecure they're reassuring them and reminding them that they Look Good!!!! anybody who thinks otherwise is dumb and not worth their time!

rime says something along the lines of everybody looking boring so mc is always a sight for his sore eyes

if they saw mc wearing something one of them bought they'd feel honoured and Accomplished :100:

tbh the both of them would probably buy things just so they can go "i hope i'll get to see you wearing this some time soon :)" and now everybody wins

felix and rime arguing over what mc should wear 😭 they're so annoying /j mc asks what shoes would pair better with their outfit and rime is calling felix an idiot for ever thinking those sneakers are better than his own choice

"what do you know" technically neither of you know anything about this fashion style but carry on i guess

#last legacy #last legacy headcanons #last legacy rime #last legacy felix #fictif felix #fictif rime #felix escellun #rime varela #felix iskandar escellun #rime solano varela

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emmerrr · 6 years ago

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heyyyy if you wanna write a pynch vday fic, how about one where they're like... both trying to be sneaky about planning sth for valentines day and so both think the other has forgotten about it and they're both like ://// but it all uhh works out in the end?? x

what a top notch suggestion, absoLUTELY i can write that 💕💕 (uhh heads up this got kinda long, i’ll put it on ao3 too and reblog with a link later)

Adam sat alone in a corner booth of Nino’s, History notes open on the table before him. He’d written VALENTINE’S DAY?? in the margin, underlined three times. He frowned at the words, wondering why he was fixating on them, and turned his head to stare listlessly out of the window instead.

Blue was there working, but she’d been too busy to come and say hello so far, simply offering him a harried wave when she spotted him walk in, pointing him towards the table he was now seated at. The other staff at Nino’s never bothered them anymore, knowing Blue would cover their table. Adam had heard them being referred to as “Blue’s Boys” on more than one occasion.

He was currently the only one there, having beaten Henry and Gansey out of the school gates. He assumed they’d got held up by a traffic light or two, and Ronan had further to drive than the rest of them so would likely arrive last anyway.

Thinking of Ronan immediately returned Adam’s thoughts to the words written in his notes and he scowled at the parking lot. On the surface, Valentine’s Day didn’t seem like it would be Ronan’s thing. Adam wasn’t even particularly sure it was his thing. But the fact remained that Valentine’s Day was a week away, and Adam didn’t know what, if anything, he was expected to do for it.

He tried to think back to previous years and remembered receiving an anonymous card from someone back in the seventh grade; a generic heart-shaped thing that simply said ‘Will you be my Valentine? x’ inside. He was fairly certain the sender was a girl in his English class who had never said a word to him but blushed every time she caught his eye. Adam didn’t see how he was supposed to answer whether or not he’d be her Valentine if she never told him she had sent it. And of course, she never owned up, and he didn’t want to suggest it was her in case he was wrong, and he didn’t actually want to be her Valentine anyway. So it was never mentioned again.

The difference here was that Ronan was his actual boyfriend. Didn’t that mean that they were each other’s Valentines by default, then?

Adam didn’t know. He’d never navigated Valentine’s Day before. Not like this.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear Henry and Gansey approach until they were right there.

“Oh, History notes,” Henry exclaimed. “Can I borrow them?”

Adam turned his head to see Henry already sliding the notebook towards him. “Your notes are always make more sense than mi—” Henry cut himself off, eyes widening at something on the page. Too late Adam remembered the VALENTINE’S DAY?? in the margin and slapped his hand over it, snatching back his notebook.

Henry was grinning at him. “Big plans?”

“No,” Adam muttered. “No plans at all.” He stuffed the notebook into his messenger bag.

Gansey had slid into the booth opposite Adam and watched the exchange with raised eyebrows. “What have I missed?”

“Nothing, apparently,” Henry said easily. Adam was grateful that Henry clearly wasn’t going to push it (at least not with an audience), but reasoned he could perhaps use some advice.

“So,” he started. “Valentine’s Day. Thoughts?”

“I’m glad you asked, Parrish,” Gansey said. “It was originally a Western Christian feast day honouring a couple of early saints called Valentinius—”

“Yes, thank you, Captain Wikipedia,” Henry cut in. “I’m not entirely sure that’s what he meant.”

A jug of Iced Tea was plonked onto the table without ceremony and they all looked up to Blue Sargent as she handed out glasses.

“It’s a dumb holiday invented by Hallmark to sell more cards,” she said, obviously having heard the tail-end of the conversation.

“Well, obviously there’s that too,” Gansey said, beaming at her.

Adam sighed. They were all monumentally unhelpful.

“Why the interest, Adam?” Blue asked, a knowing glint in her eye.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I’m just…okay, with Ronan, do I just treat it like any other day? Do I get him a card? Will he think it’s stupid? Do I think it’s stupid?”

There was a short silence as the three of them blinked back at him, and then Blue carefully said, “Do you think it’s stupid?”

Adam wasn’t sure how to answer that. The truth was that he sort of did think it was stupid, but he also thought he wanted to acknowledge it anyway. He thought doing nothing at all kind of made him look like an asshole.

In the end, it all circled back to Ronan, and whether he would care. Did he have anything planned? Was he having an internal crisis over it as well?

In lieu of an answer, Adam shrugged again.

“Speak of the devil,” Henry said, and nodded towards the entrance.

Ronan, dressed all in black (of course), had just stepped inside. He scanned the restaurant without turning his head but when he spotted Adam, his shoulders relaxed, and he smiled just a little.

Adam didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing that.

“Oh god, you two are the worst,” Blue scoffed as Ronan started to make his way over.

“What?” Adam said without looking at her.

“You know exactly what, Adam Parrish. You and Ronan with the googly eyes. Jesus Christ, you’re in public. Tone it down.”

“You tone it down,” Ronan said jovially, hip-checking Blue as he drew level. “What are we talking about?”

“The origins of Valentine’s Day,” Gansey said delicately.

Ronan snorted derisively. “Valentine’s Day,” he said with as much scorn as he could muster, “is capitalistic bullshit invented to sell cards and flowers and chocolate.”

“Hey man, that’s exactly what I said,” Blue said, sounding pleased, and she and Ronan fist-bumped. Adam rolled his eyes. They really were two sides of the same coin.

“You’re in my seat, Cheng,” Ronan said.

“Sit by Gansey, I was here first.”

Ronan shrugged. “Fair’s fair.” He stepped up onto the seat and over Henry and squeezed into the spot between him and Adam.

“Ronan Lynch,” Gansey hissed. “You’ll get us kicked out!”

“Calm down, Dick, no one noticed,” Ronan said. He had both arms stretched out across the back of the booth, and Adam and Henry were both leaning into him a little thanks to the lack of space.

“This is cozy,” Henry said cheerfully.

It was Blue’s turn to roll her eyes and she pulled her little notepad out of her apron pocket. “Alright, I have to actually do my job now, what do you want? Gansey, I’m assuming you want your usual half-avocado monstrosity?”

“You’re a millennial, Blue, you’re supposed to like avocados.”

Her disgusted expression was answer enough. The rest of them rattled off their food order and then Blue went off to put it through.

“Doesn’t anyone want to come and sit by me?” Gansey asked. “It’s lonely over here.”

“Oh, don’t pull that face, Gansey, you’re making me sad,” Henry said, swapping sides. He scooched right the way over to Gansey and draped an arm around his shoulder before sighing loftily. “It’s hard being this popular.”

“But someone has to do it,” Adam said drily, earning him a quicksilver smile.

“And I do it so well.”

Ronan was stopping at Adam’s for the night, but they had each come to Nino’s in their own cars so separated in the parking lot to drive over to St Agnes in a convoy.

Ronan was already peeling out of the lot by the time Adam reached his shitbox, and he was held up further by Henry calling his name. He turned and Henry jogged over, Gansey nowhere to be seen and most likely still inside saying goodbye to Blue.

“Oh, sorry,” Adam said. “You wanted my History notes, right?”

“No, that’s not — well, yeah, actually, thank you,” he said, taking them when Adam handed them over. “I actually came over here to give you some unsolicited advice.”

“About the Valentine’s Day thing?”

“That’s the one.”

Adam shrugged. “It’s not entirely unsolicited. But anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. You heard him.”

“Yeah, I heard him. Sounds like posturing to me.”

Adam tilted his head to the side. “You think?” Ronan certainly was prone to posturing.

“Sure. I mean, I have no doubt that he really does think Valentine’s Day is what he said in there, but I wouldn’t let that put you off doing something, if you wanted to.” Henry waited for a response, and when Adam didn’t offer one, he prompted, “You do want to, don’t you?”

Adam smiled wryly. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only if you know what to look for,” Henry said, but before Adam could think on that too much, he continued. “Look, I don’t know Ronan as well as you do, but even from the outside, it’s clear how he feels about you.”

Feeling himself blush, Adam immediately looked down at the ground. He did know how Ronan felt about him. It was often whispered to him in the middle of the night when it felt like they were the only two people in the world. It just took him off guard to hear it so plainly from someone else.

“Think about it, Adam. Regardless of how Ronan personally feels about what Valentine’s Day stands for, do you really think he’s going to let a day when he’s practically green-lit to be as obnoxious as possible about you just pass him by?” Henry shook his head. “Not the Ronan Lynch I know.”

Well, when it was put that way. “Did he say something to you? Do you know something?”

“Not a thing,” Henry said, and Adam believed him. “It’s just an observation and an educated guess.”

“Huh,” Adam said thoughtfully. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and tossed them in the air, catching them again, ideas already forming in his head. If Ronan was going to be obnoxious, Adam could be obnoxious too. “Thanks, Henry. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t lose my notes.”

“I will try my level best.”

Adam gave himself three rules for Ronan’s Valentine’s gift:

1) It had to be heartfelt.

2) It also had to be in good humour and not take itself too seriously.

3) It had to be cheap.

He was too sensible to spend money he didn’t have on some arbitrary gift Ronan wouldn’t appreciate. Not to mention that Ronan was impossible enough to buy for as it was; firstly he was rich enough to buy himself pretty much anything he might want, and secondly he could literally manifest his dreams. It was going to make future birthdays and Christmas’s an absolute nightmare.

(But what a wonderful problem to have.)

What it all basically meant was that Adam had to go homemade, and given that he had school and work (and Ronan) to work around, he didn’t have a whole lot of time to do it.

He borrowed Gansey’s laptop during lunch-break on Monday at Aglionby and made Ronan a mix-CD of the cheesiest love songs he could think of. It featured such classics as You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oates, Heaven by Bryan Adams, True by Spandau Ballet, and many, many more. It wasn’t even remotely Ronan’s kind of music which made it funny, but as embarrassing as some of the songs might have been, they did actually somewhat echo Adam’s own feelings. He got to be a sap in the guise of it being a joke, and Ronan would get a kick out of it.

Obviously, he also added the Murder Squash Song for good measure.

Next up was a card. He could have bought one — his budget would have allowed it — but all the store ones were godawful and Adam couldn’t even imagine giving one of them to Ronan ironically.

Luckily he had an ace up his sleeve.

The first time that Ronan had stayed over at Adam’s after they were together in the very early days of their relationship, Adam had woken up to a frozen Ronan with a handful of strangely lovely flowers, the exact shade of blue as Adam’s eyes.

Adam had kept them in a cheap vase on the windowsill until they died, but unbeknownst to Ronan, he’d also taken one and pressed it to make a little print; his own private memento.

He was obviously keeping the original for himself, but he took it into the school library a couple of days before Valentine’s Day and scanned it, printing it out on some high quality photo card he’d ‘acquired’ from one of the Art rooms.

Once the ink was dry, he folded it down the middle as carefully as possible and put it inside his heaviest textbook to keep it folded and flat until he got it home.

He spent longer than probably necessary trying to decide what to write, but in the end, he went with:

Ronan,

I think maybe it was always you. I think it always will be. Happy Valentine’s Day (gross).

Love, Adam x

He didn’t have a nice envelope to put it in, so it had to go in a bigger manila one that Adam still had lying around. He slipped both the card and the CD inside, and wrote Ronan’s name in capitals on the outside.

He looked at his offering. It somehow didn’t seem enough.

Valentine’s Day was on Thursday, so on Wednesday— after school but before a shift at Boyd’s— Adam found himself in the kitchen of 300 Fox Way. He’d bought everything he needed to make chocolate brownies before he’d realised he didn’t have a tin in which to cook them in. He was also severely lacking in several other kitchen utensils, to be honest. One panicked phone-call to Blue later, and he had everything he needed and a helping hand.

Well, ‘helping’ was a strong word.

“Why brownies?” Blue asked from where she sat perched on the kitchen table.

“Because brownies are the best,” Adam said, frowning at the recipe he had printed out.

“Alright, can’t argue with that,” Blue said reasonably.

Adam was aware of her watching him while he slowly got out everything he needed and started weighing out ingredients. He felt unreasonably nervous about it, even though he knew that provided he followed the recipe, everything would be fine. Baking was a science, after all, and Adam was good at science.

But looking at it all now with Blue scrutinising his every move, he felt flustered and unmoored.

“I thought you were going to help,” he said pointedly.

“I am helping. I’m supervising,” Blue said.

Adam smiled at that. “I see. Are you the kind of supervisor who can grease this tin for me?”

“I suppose so,” Blue said loftily as she launched herself off the table.

Blue started chattering away after that which helped Adam calm down and focus on what he was doing, and it didn’t take long to make the mixture after that. Adam tilted the pan while Blue used a wooden spoon to scrape the mixture out and into the brownie tin.

After that, they just had to put it in the oven and wait.

Blue brewed up some of Maura’s least offensive tea as they sat and waited, and Adam finally asked what he’d been dying to all week.

“Do you know if Ronan has anything planned?”

Blue smiled and shook her head. “Honestly, Adam, I have absolutely no idea. He hasn’t said a word. I’ve barely seen him though, and never really without you there.” She shrugged. “If he’s got a plan he’s keeping it close to his chest.”

Adam nodded; he’d assumed as much. “I just want to know if I’m doing too much, or not doing enough? I dunno, it’s stupid. It’s only Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, but it’s your first Valentine’s Day together,” Blue said, not unkindly. “I get it.”

“What are you and Gansey doing?”

“I made him a card and found him a couple of ‘slovenly’ t-shirts at the thrift store. I’m gonna hazard a guess that he’s getting me flowers, and he told me to keep the evening free so he’s probably taking me somewhere. Wherever it is, it better not be expensive.”

Adam grinned. “Maybe it’s Nino’s.”

“God, don’t even joke, I’d murder him. Again.”

He started to laugh, and after a couple of seconds Blue joined in. When it died down, Blue put her hand on his arm.

“Don’t overthink it, Adam. Ronan will love whatever you give him, because you’re the one it’s coming from. It’s not about the gifts you get or the meal you have or how much money you spend. I think it’s more about the gesture. That’s what’ll mean the most to Ronan.”

Adam managed a small smile. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” Blue opened a drawer and gasped, then pulled out a heart-shaped cookie cutter. “Oh my God, Adam, you have to.”

She held out the cookie-cutter towards him and he took it, sighing. “Really?”

“Yes! This way, they’ll all be exactly the same size and I get to eat all the cut-offs. Y’know, as my fee for helping.”

And that’s how Adam ended up with nine perfect little heart-shaped brownies.

Adam didn’t see Ronan that night, thanks to finishing late at Boyd’s and then having homework after.

When he woke up in the morning, he was hit by the realisation that he and Ronan hadn’t even arranged to see each other that day at all.

He half expected Ronan to show up at St Agnes unannounced with a bouquet of dream flowers and some donuts or something. But that didn’t happen, and Adam slowly packed his messenger bag for school, remembering to include the Tupperware of Valentine’s brownies and the envelope with its enclosed card and CD.

He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to give them to Ronan, but it was better to be prepared.

Adam walked down to his car, scanning the parking lot and the street to see if there was any sign of a shark-nosed BMW. But there was nothing, and there was nothing on the way to school, and Adam made it all the way through to lunch without seeing or hearing from Ronan.

Obviously, he had no phone, and Ronan hated his own phone. But Gansey had a phone, and Ronan could have got in touch that way if he had felt so inclined.

Adam didn’t know what he’d been expecting; that Ronan would show up at the Aglionby gates with a boombox over his head blasting out Lionel Richie songs? That he’d get back to his car after school and find out his favourite hooligan had broken in and left him a giant teddy bear and a box of chocolates?

It all seemed stupid now, and Valentine’s Day was stupid, and Adam was irritated that he’d let the pressures of the day get to him. It didn’t matter. It was a meaningless day.

So why did he feel so deflated?

At the end of the day, he caved and asked to borrow Gansey’s phone.

First, he sent a text that said: it’s adam, i’m about to call you so answer the phone

He gave it a minute until he’d seen that Ronan had read the message, and then pressed the call button.

“Parrish,” Ronan said in lieu of a hello.

All at once, like always, Adam was happy to hear Ronan’s voice. And yet he still couldn’t quite shake his irritation, even though the one who’d got his hopes up was himself.

“Hey,” he replied. “Listen, were you planning on coming over tonight?”

“Nope.” It was a little difficult to tell, but Adam thought Ronan’s tone was just a little off. “You come here.”

Adam sighed. “Ronan, I have school tomorrow so I wouldn’t even be able to stay that late. Can’t you just come here?”

There was a long pause. “Opal wants to see you.”

“So bring her with you.”

“Are you kidding, Parrish, she’s filthy. She’ll mess up the interior.”

The BMW wasn’t exactly spotless inside so this seemed a flimsy excuse. Adam started to wonder whether Ronan even wanted to see him at all.

“If you don’t want to see me today that’s fine,” he said, tone clipped.

“I didn’t say that,” Ronan said, tone just as clipped.

It felt like they were heading for a fight. Adam didn’t want to fight. He wanted to give Ronan the stupid sentimental CD he’d made. He wanted Ronan to make fun of him for the brownies. He wanted a hug.

Adam was abruptly exhausted, and it didn’t matter that he’d gone to the effort and Ronan hadn’t. He just wanted to see him.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna go home and shower but then I’ll head over to you.”

“Okay, good. See you in a bit,” Ronan said, and hung up.

The sun was down by the time Adam pulled up at the Barns. The heating in Adam’s car was dodgy enough on a good today, and today wasn’t a good day. It had barely come on, so his hands were like ice as he got out of the car.

He walked straight in when he got there and made his way to the kitchen. He hovered in the doorway; Ronan’s back was to him, a tea towel strewn over one shoulder, straining pasta over the sink.

Adam rapped his knuckles against the door-frame and Ronan turned around.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Adam replied. “You cooked?”

Ronan shrugged. “It’s just spaghetti.” He gestured to Adam’s messenger bag. “You brought homework with you?”

All that was in the bag was the Valentine’s gifts for Ronan, and he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Okay,” Ronan said with another shrug. “Sit. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Adam pulled himself a chair out, and it scraped against the floor noisily in the otherwise quiet. He waited for Ronan to finish serving up and then asked, “Where’s Opal?”

“No idea. Haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”

Adam took a bite of his food. It was good. “I thought you said she wanted to see me.”

“She always wants to see you,” Ronan said smoothly. “I’m sure she’ll turn up when she spots your car.”

They finished eating in near silence, Adam waiting for Ronan to say something— anything— to acknowledge the day. But he didn’t, and the longer the silence dragged, the harder it seemed to break it.

Adam started towards the sink to do the washing up afterwards, but Ronan stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Just leave it, Parrish.”

“But—”

“Leave them. I’ll do them in the morning.”

Adam sighed, uncomfortable in the tension. He didn’t know what to do now. Did Ronan just want him to leave? And if so, why had he told him to come in the first place?

“Look, do you know what day it is?” Adam asked, unable to take it any longer.

“It’s Thursday,” Ronan said, chin jutted out, arms crossed. Adam glared; Ronan clearly knew exactly what day it was.

“Okay, great,” Adam said tiredly. He opened his bag and pulled out the Tupperware and the envelope. “Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess.”

He put them on the table and stepped away, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. He watched Ronan’s face, the expression on which had softened immediately. He looked to Adam, stricken.

“Parrish, I—”

“It’s fine, Ronan, just open them.”

Ronan snapped his mouth shut, and pulled the envelope over to him. Adam immediately felt self-conscious about his meagre homemade gifts.

“It’s not much,” he said quickly.

Ronan’s only response to this was a slight furrow in his brow. Then he took the CD out, quirking a smile at Adam’s inscription: LYNCH’S CHEESY LOVE SONG SINGALONG. It was surrounded by lots of hand drawn love-hearts that Adam now thought seemed excessive.

Ronan looked up and raised an eyebrow at Adam, a half-smirk on his face. “No track-list, Parrish?”

“It’s a surprise,” Adam said, smiling weakly, but relieved. “You’ll have to play it to find out.”

“I’ll do that,” he said with a sage nod. He put the CD down and reached for the Tupperware, pulling the lid off and tossing it aside. He looked inside and snorted. “You’ve really stuck with a theme here, huh, Parrish?”

“Hey, Valentine’s Day is all about the hearts, apparently. And to be fair, the heart-shaped brownies are Blue’s fault. She found a cookie-cutter and insisted.”

“She knew about this?” Ronan said.

“Yeah, she helped me make them.”

“That little sneak...” Ronan trailed off and let out a sharp laugh. “I asked her if she knew whether or not you were doing something, and she swore blind she had no idea.”

Adam thought about asking why Ronan had even wanted to know, but instead he pointed at the envelope. “There’s a card in there, as well.”

“In here?” Ronan turned the envelope upside down and the card slipped out into his hand. Adam watched as he took in the flower on the front, smiled a little, then did a double-take, glancing at Adam. “Hold on. Is this what I think it is?”

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh, I pressed one, before they all died. I wanted to keep it, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Ronan said, something akin to awe in his voice. “I dream about them all the time.” He opened the card and read what Adam had written there, then dropped his face into his hands.

“Parrish...” he mumbled. “I feel like a fucking asshole.”

Adam went over and gently pulled the card out of Ronan’s hand, sitting down on Ronan’s lap. Ronan’s arms circled his waist automatically and he tucked his face into Adam’s neck.

“You are a fucking asshole, Lynch. I love you anyway.”

Ronan grumbled something incoherently against Adam’s skin, and Adam smiled. “What was that?”

Ronan lifted his head so he could be heard. “I said I love you right back.”

“Good,” Adam said.

“I thought you’d forgotten. And I didn’t...I didn’t want a big deal, and this day is a fucking joke or whatever, but you didn’t mention anything. And I even thought you might borrow Gansey’s phone and like, text me or something this morning? But then you didn’t and when you finally called me you sounded annoyed and I didn’t know why, and I didn’t even think you wanted to come over. So then you finally got here and you seemed mad, and so I was mad and...I’m sorry. I was here thinking you didn’t give a shit and you made stuff for me?” He hung his head, penitent. “I love my gifts. These lame brownies smell great. I’m fucking sorry, Parrish.”

“Hey.” Adam cupped Ronan’s head in his hands. “It’s fine that you didn’t get me anything. Honestly I think I just let this whole day get into my head as having to mean something when it doesn’t. I don’t need a special day to let you know how I feel. And I’m sorry if I seemed mad. I just didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

He leaned in and kissed Ronan briefly. “And Lynch, you cooked for me. You made me a whole meal. I’m pretty sure we’re even.” He kissed him again, until Ronan pulled back and covered Adam’s hands with his own.

“Um...you should come with me,” Ronan said, and he almost sounded sheepish.

They stood up and Ronan swiped the mix CD off the table and shoved it in the pocket of his hoodie, before taking Adam’s hand and leading him out the back door.

Confused but intrigued, Adam followed closely behind, clutching tight to Ronan’s fingers. It was cold outside and neither of them had their coats on, which Adam was about to point out when they walked around the corner of the nearest barn and he was rendered speechless by the sight before him.

In the middle of the grass was a small gazebo tent, the base of which was covered in luxurious looking blankets. There was a laptop in the middle of the floor, hooked up to a projector which was pointing at the outer-wall of the barn. A precarious tower of DVDs was piled up next to the laptop; Adam couldn’t see the titles from here but imagined Ronan had assembled a variety of choices. There was a big thermos, contents unknown (coffee? Hot chocolate?), and various other treats; big bags of marshmallows and Hershey’s Kisses and Reese’s Mini Peanut-Butter Cups.

And everywhere, there was light. Ronan’s twinkling little dream lights, some in jars under the gazebo, others hanging in the air, changing colour, like little fireflies.

“Ronan,” Adam finally managed hoarsely. “What the fuck?”

Ronan smirked. “You thought I hadn’t done anything.”

“Uh, yeah, because you let me think that!” Adam said. He was struggling to process how cosy and romantic it all looked. Let it never be said that Ronan Lynch wasn’t an absolute sap.

“I didn’t let you think anything, you jumped to that conclusion all on your own.”

Adam scowled. “Now I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“Don’t,” Ronan said, pressing a kiss to Adam’s temple. “Anyway, this is nothing.”

“It is so far from nothing,” Adam said. He stepped forward and took a turn around, taking everything in as he walked in a slow circle, stopping when he was facing Ronan again. “I thought Valentine’s Day was capitalistic bullshit?”

“Oh, it is,” Ronan said happily. “But for one, I didn’t spend a penny. And two, a whole day where I can spoil you as much as I want to and you don’t get to complain about it? Sign me the fuck up for that.”

Adam burst out laughing. “You’ve just reminded me of something Henry said.”

“What did he say?”

“I told him that I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d do anything because we hadn’t talked about it, and he said, and I quote: ‘do you really think he’s going to let a day when he’s practically green-lit to be as obnoxious as possible about you just pass him by?’”

Ronan was grinning now. “Cheng’s pretty smart.”

“Yeah,” Adam said. He caught one of the floating lights in his hand and then let it go again. “Just for the record, I think your dreaming abilities give you an unfair advantage when it comes to stuff like this.”

“Excuse you, Parrish, the only thing I dreamt up was the blankets because they’re heated. Oh, and the projector. And the gazebo. But that’s it.”

“‘That’s it’, he says.” Adam rolled his eyes, then accusingly added, “You dreamt up the lights.”

“Well, yeah, but not for this. I already had those. And the food was stuff I already had in the house, and the DVDs are ones I already own. I didn’t want to go overboard.”

Adam stared. “You are ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head. “Come here.”

Ronan went, without question or hesitation, and Adam wrapped his arms around his neck.

“This is the sweetest thing anybody’s ever done for me,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Ronan whispered, kissing a line up Adam’s neck and across his face, the tip of his nose, his forehead, “for the brownies, for what you wrote in the card...Jesus, Adam. It’s the same for me. You know that, right? It’s always you.”

Adam squeezed tighter, feeling dangerously overcome. He breathed in the familiar, comforting smell of Ronan, and then released his grip. “And for the CD, obviously,” he said.

“Of course,” Ronan said, and smiled sharply. “Speaking of...” He pulled it out of his pocket and walked over to his laptop. “I’ll let you pick a movie in a bit, but first, I wanna listen to my present.”

He popped the CD into the drive and pressed a couple of buttons on the mouse, and a moment later the opening track started to play: I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston.

Ronan laughed, once, soundlessly, then came back over to Adam and held his hand out.

“Well?” he said when Adam didn’t move. “Are you dancing?”

Adam grinned. “Are you asking?”

“I’m asking.”

“Then I’m dancing.” He took Ronan’s hand and together they swayed, far too slowly for a song this upbeat, but Ronan didn’t seem to mind, and Adam certainly didn’t.

They didn’t speak while they were dancing, both perhaps a little shaken at the near-miss of an argument, both relieved they hadn’t let it get that far. Both content to be in each other’s company, away from prying eyes and expectations.

It was still early days. They were still learning how to do this, navigating firsts and futures and each other, but they were both quick studies, and Adam couldn’t think of anything more worthwhile than building a foundation— and a life— with Ronan.

There were trickier days to come, but for now, they’d survived their first Valentine’s Day as a couple. As they lay curled together in a blanket watching The Princess Bride projected onto the side of a barn, Adam thought he’d have to mark this one down as a win.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Parrish,” Ronan whispered into Adam’s hair.

“Ugh,” Adam said, and kissed him. “Happy Thursday.”

#the raven cycle #pynch #tumblr prompts #lesbianparrish #adamparrishes #trc

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malyen0retsev · 6 years ago

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as much as i do want jaime and brienne to bang in s8, i dont get how some ppl can be so sure about it ( ''The Bang that was promised). I mean they're most probably gonna die right? and what if they dont become canon?

Two things tbh - one, yeah. I hate it, and it’s going to break my heart, but I think the odds of them both making it out alive are pretty darn low. “In the arms of the woman I love” is a line that’s haunted me for YEARS now. I think it’ll be awful for the characters if one of them dies, absolutely awful, and that’s actually why I’ll be more upset; not because I’m upset, but because of what it means for the other half. Jaime - finally free of his ties, able to choose the path he wants, finally loved and respected for who he is, will lose the love of his life. Brienne - finally free of being mocked, finally respected, finally actually treated as an equal by a man, will lose the love of her life. Whichever way you paint it, it’s horrible, and I hope to god it doesn’t happen, but yeah, expectations of them both surviving are low.

However - two. ‘The Bang that was promised’. It’s happening. It’s 100% going canon this season. REASONS (by taking a walk through the seasons bc why answer a question quickly when you can write an essay):

Throughout all 7 previous seasons, the thing keeping Jaime and Brienne apart has essentially been Cersei, and Jaime’s honour to the Lannister family. For someone who’s infamous for breaking a sacred vow, Jaime isn’t half serious about keeping vows (but we all know and understand the context. As does Brienne. Which is why she doesn’t ask him to betray his House in S6). Season 2 - 3, the ‘Jaime and Brienne Roadtrip’, what’s the end goal? The end goal is returning Jaime to King’s Landing, and by extension, Cersei.

Seasons 4 - 5, what’s keeping them apart? Well, Jaime’s in King’s Landing now. Expectations of House Lannister are being shoved onto him again. He’s a Kingsguard, and as already said, he takes his vows seriously. He can’t leave. But because he takes these vows seriously, he sure as hell isn’t going to make Brienne break her vow; so gives her the sword and armour, and Pod. The sword she names Oathkeeper. and that scene still breaks my heart to watch when Brienne leaves Jaime is still loyal to Cersei, but even Cersei, who never doubts Jaime’s loyalty, has pointed out that Brienne is in love with him. Season 5 they’re still apart; Brienne fulfilling her oath, Jaime doing Cersei’s work by going to Dorne. And even then, we’re given a nugget where Jaime looks more lovingly at a bloody island (TARTH Y’ALL) than we’ve seen him look at Cersei since about Season 1.

Seasons 6 - 7 is, imo, where it gets interesting; because they’re still apart. And what’s preventing Jaime again is Cersei. But cogs are already starting to turn. Tommen has released Jaime from the Kingsguard, thus Jaime’s down in the Riverlands sieging Riverrun. Jaime no longer is bound by oath to be loyal anymore. This is important. In a five minute conversation Jaime has with Brienne, we see character development snap right back - he throws in her face how “My sister wants her dead, so there is that complication” to which she simply says “Complication does not release you from your vow”. And what does Jaime do? Everything he can to ensure Brienne gets out unscathed. Gives her his word (which to most people means nothing. To Brienne, who trusts him? It means everything. And that means a lot to a man who believes himself to be irredeemable). Season 7, Jaime is quite obviously getting increasingly frustrated and disillusioned with his role in King’s Landing (to which I just say “Bitch same, the fuck”). His sister has murdered a ton of people using the weapon he literally murdered a King for trying to use. Brienne in Riverrun has reminded him of the importance of loyalty, reminded him of those ideals he once wished he could be, and his place with Cersei doesn’t fit anymore.

Which leads us to the finale of Season 7, where Brienne quite literally smacks and swears 3 years worth of character development back into him in 10 seconds of dialogue - “FUCK LOYALTY”. (“This goes beyond Houses” // “This isn’t about great Houses”). The thing that has always kept Jaime and Brienne apart is their loyalty to different people - and at the end of Season 7, Jaime leaves his. He leaves Cersei, he leaves King’s Landing, he leaves behind the importance of House Lannister.

He has chosen the North, he has chosen the Great War; he has chosen Brienne. For the first time, he is going where Brienne is, not because he is called to go there, not because he’s doing Cersei’s work, not because he’s trying to do something for House Lannister - he is going to where Brienne is because she reminded him of who he is, and because he is choosing to go there. Nobody else from King’s Landing is going North. It is just him. It is 100% Jaime’s choice.

Brienne has always been the moral compass for Jaime, and obviously in the trailer we see him saying how “I promised to fight for the living. I intend to keep that promise.” He has finally shown his true colours and stepped up and publicly become the man Brienne has always known he is (and she has evidently told others of this, as in Season 7 Sansa reminds Brienne that Jaime will be in King’s Landing and “You said he treated you honourably before”.) The two of them are now both in Winterfell, with swords forged from Ned Stark’s sword, protecting Ned Stark’s children. “It’s yours. It will always be yours” is a metaphor for Jaime’s heart - and now he has chosen to appear with the other half, the half that is his. They are two sides of the same coin (or sword), and are finally in the same place because they have chosen to be.

With all that set up, there is no way the two won’t go canon this season. They’re the most set up pairing in the entire series. Brienne has reminded Jaime of where he should be, and Jaime has, for the first time in his life, chosen to abandon Cersei - and choose someone else. And that’s huge. Will they die? Maybe. But they won’t die before confirming their love to each other. And that’s a fact. This ship is about as canon as a ship can be without actually having fucked yet.

#why write a short answer when i can yell about brienne and jaime for an ESSAY #asks #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #jaime x brienne #got #game of thrones #got s8

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