#though she’s nymeria dayne

[tarantinolovesmyfeet]

Am I’m going to make nymeria and harwin be horny for each other till the dawn of time? Yes.

But I am also going to have Rhaenyra feel the same way and nymeria is going to be for her.!

And some how they work.

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 8 - Dance of the Dragon

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

Music

~~~

The evening of Princess Helaena’s name day is held in the rose garden, and you think it must be the most charming party you have ever seen. 

Tables and chairs are hidden among the flowers, music is floating up from the terrace and there are so many braziers that it's almost impossible to feel the cool night air. 

“Let us find Helaena,” Maris says, grabbing your hand to pull you through the crowds. 

You want to stop her, to arrive on measured steps, so you are not quite so breathless when you’re standing in front of Aemond, but it quickly becomes too late for that. 

“Your grace,” you pant, feeling as though your corset has been tightened beyond your ability to breathe as you dip into a curtsy, while Maris clings to Helaena, wishing her the happiest of name days. 

“I trust you are feeling much better?” he whispers, and you know, without looking, that there is a wicked smile teasing at his lips.   

“Quite,” you say, finding his expression to be exactly as you had imagined it, and you don’t give him a reaction.  

You move to greet Helaena, offering another curtsy before leaving all three of them behind in favour of wine. 

Dandelion wine to be precise and, though the flavour is more bitter than you’d expected, it's still strangely addictive. 

Turning to see if perhaps Cassandra or Maris would like to try it for themselves, your eyes meet again with Aemond, who is reaching for his own cup.  

“Did you read The Loves of Queen Nymeria?” he asks, taking a sip. 

You scoff, “it has only been one night.” 

“When a book is enjoyable, I find I cannot stop turning its pages until I’ve had them all, no matter the time of day.” 

You were the same, sometimes there were not enough candles in your room for the hours needed to devour every word, but you don’t tell him that. 

You look at Maris, who has talked nonstop of Aemond since tea and would likely relish the opportunity for this conversation. Though, you must admit, there was hardly a chance she would ever pick up a book unless absolutely necessary. 

Still, you think she will be able to make something up on the spot and be completely delightful when you tell him, “I think perhaps Maris has borrowed it from my room.” 

Aemond frowns, “who’s Maris?” 

“My sister...” you say, shaking your head in disbelief and knowing fine well that he has spoken to her before. “She is over there with yours,” you gesture your cup in her direction, “so perhaps you would like to discuss the book with her ?” 

“But ,” he inches into your path as though he can tell you’re about to slink away, “you have already read it, have you not?” 

His question is so direct that you cannot possibly lie even if that's exactly what you want to do. Yet that does not stop you from hesitating, feeling your cheeks heat, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention under his scrutiny. “ Yes. I have read it, are you satisfied?” 

From the smile that spreads across his cheeks you can see he is, in fact, satisfied. “What did you think?” 

You thought it exciting, enchanting and completely captivating. You couldn’t put it down and wanted desperately to be Nymeria with her 10,000 ships and the dashing Ser Davos Dayne at her side. You’d loved every last word and had re read some of your favourite chapters last night when you were supposed to be forgetting about Aemond.  

“You know for someone who claims to love books so much, you were certainly very cavalier when you threw one in the pond,” you say, keeping your thoughts on Nymeria to yourself. 

Aemond laughs, taking another sip of his wine, “I suppose I was quite pleased to see you also thought it one of the most terrible things you’d ever read.” 

Gods, you remember the way he had smiled when you’d told him precisely how much you disliked it. Perhaps it would have been safer to discuss Nymeria after all.  

“Well... just because you do not like something doesn’t mean it is worthless,” you scold, trying carefully to sidestep around him but he counters your movements, so every step only seems to bring you closer. 

“True,” he positions himself so you cannot escape, “ but I did not throw it away because I found it worthless...” 

“His grace should feel no great need to discard the things I do not like." 

“Then tell me of the things you do like.” He says this without any teasing smile, or any agenda at all, except to know you. 

Suddenly you feel as though your mind is the book he is trying desperately to read. Yet you don’t want his fingers running through your pages and it's not just because he saw you on the beach. It's not even because he has somehow convinced the men of court to ignore your very existence.  

You’re simply not a book to be read by a Targaryen prince, that is Maris’ dream. Your pages have always been meant for a man with no name, a man with no great consequence to the realm and Aemond was the exact opposite of that. 

Just as you’re about to tell him, that he has no need to know any more of your interests, you are interrupted by Helaena and grateful for it. 

“Brother,” she calls, and you both turn to look at her.  

“I would like you to ask my friends to dance,” she says, her cheeks so pink and her smile so hopeful.  

“You know I do not dance,” Aemond replies and, though you cannot see his face, you can see the way he tenses and wonder if he is thinking exactly the same thing you are. 

‘If you want to dance.... you need only ask.’ Words he had spoken only yesterday.  

You think perhaps he was trying to trick you after all, yet, deep down, you know that isn’t true. Aemond had no wish to humiliate you, he had said so himself. But why was it so much easier to believe that his motives were underhand, instead of something far more agreeable? 

“It will be a name day present for your favourite sister,” Helaena insists, sharing a conspicuous look with Maris who seems the more likely conspirator behind this whole suggestion. 

Rolling his shoulders with a sigh, Aemond stalks towards them, and you can only imagine the look on his face. The way his brow might raise, the way his eye might darken as it narrows. “I have already given you a name day present.”  

Helaena and Maris look so desperately disappointed at his rejection that you cannot help but speak for them and their scheme. 

“Surely his grace can afford two presents for a favourite sister?”  

He turns to look at you, surprised, “you wish for me to dance, Lady Baratheon?” 

All eyes are waiting for your answer, and you know precisely how to tempt him to the floor. “Well... If you cannot dance, I say I shall like to see it.” 

He laughs softly, the sound barely leaving his chest, “I did not say I could not dance; I merely choose not to.” 

“Hm,” you raise your brow, "such words are usually spoken by those with two left feet, are they not?” 

"Are you challenging me?”  

“I would never ask his grace to do anything which he did not already want to do.” 

Aemond sighs, but his eye is playful when he casts his attention not to Maris, but to Belis, who is standing quietly to the side. He slides his cup to a servant and, with one hand remaining behind his back, extends the other as a dark invitation.  

“Lady Trant,” he says, and her cheeks turn so red you can almost feel the heat of them from where you are standing.  

Suddenly you hate the way she laughs as much as you hate the way she almost falls over her own foot to take his hand.  

You half expect him to say something cruel, to tease her in some way like he always teases you, but he doesn’t.  

He folds Belis’ arm into his, and leads her down the stone steps, to the centre of the dancefloor like a perfect gentleman and you hate that most of all. 

You move to lean against the terrace wall to get a better view, and you can’t help but notice the way people are reacting to his presence on the floor. The gasps, the whispers, the sheer surprise.  

One thing is clear, Aemond truly doesn’t dance. Not just this summer but every summer, every dance.  

Is he about to humiliate himself?  

You’re not sure you want to find out. So, when the music starts, you look anywhere but at the prince, your heart pounding with some strange feeling that wasn’t there before.  

You’re taking a large gulp of wine when Cassandra makes her way to your side and whispers, “you should not speak to Prince Aemond like that.”  

You hadn’t even realised she was watching, “like what ?”  

“With that tone ,” she scolds, “it is far too familiar, and he will think you are terribly rude.” 

You meet Cassandra’s concerned expression with the stark realisation that this is only the second time, she, or any of your family, have ever seen you interact with the prince. 

“I didn’t realise I had a tone,” you say, troubled to think that any familiarity between yourself and Aemond could be so glaringly obvious. 

Cassandra’s sighs, “can you please try to be better behaved? For Maris’ sake if nothing else?” 

All you’d been trying to do since you got here was to help Maris, not that you could say that. So, you say nothing, and Belis’ dance with the prince is over before you’ve watched a single step.  

You’re a little disappointed to think he might have stumbled without you witnessing it, but she is looking so dizzy with happiness that it could not have been as bad as you’d suspected.   

Then again, of course it wasn’t. This was Aemond, he did nothing if he did not do it better than anyone else.  

Still, you find the idea of him being a great dancer even worse than when he beat you at Cyvasse. At least you knew he was well practiced at that.  

One day, there would be something in which you could best  him, and you would relish in it. Of course, you would have to know him more to find out what his weakness was, and that was a very dangerous game. 

As Aemond and Belis return up the stone steps, Cassandra leaves to dance with Lord Karstark, so it is Maris who is offered the next dance with the dragon, and you’re pleased for her. 

She seems to float on air as he guides her to the centre of the floor, her honey silk dress looking regal next to the black and gold of his leather.  You hadn’t really noticed just how much she’d started to dress in only gold and yellow, until right now, but unlike yourself, it suited her well.  

Perhaps that was why she’d practically forced you to wear your sapphire gown, though you didn’t mind. The fabric of your dress seemed as though it was made for an evening beneath the stars, catching all the sparkles as though it was crafted from the night sky instead of silk.  

When the music begins, it is a jolty tune, which you know is not Maris’ favourite. Her legs are long and a little clumsy for such quick movements, but Aemond is tall enough to support her and prevent her from looking anything but delighted.  

He, however, makes two missteps and you enjoy them well, thinking him not quite as perfect as he would have you believe. Though he’s still perfect enough to be holding the captive audience of almost everyone outside the dance floor. 

When he returns Maris back to Helaena’s side, Cassandra is still in the arms of Lord Karstark and you’re surprised when that leather hand offers to you, his eyebrow raised above his good eye.  

You hadn’t really thought of yourself as one of Helaena’s friends, you were just the annoying little sister who had to follow wherever Cassandra and Maris went. But Aemond doesn’t know that. 

“Perhaps his grace would like to sit this one out so he may regain his breath?” you say, wanting to dance more than anything but strangely afraid of it being with him.  

“You think I am without stamina for three ladies?” he replies and there is a quiet bubble of giggles from the others. 

“Go on,” Helaena urges and you relent, your heart starting to thud in your ears as you gently slip your hand into the soft supple leather of his. 

Like before, the music for your dance doesn’t begin until the prince has stepped into the centre of the fray and the tune is slow, steady. The steps far more intimate than you would have liked and just as intimate as Maris would have wanted.  

In this dance, he doesn’t miss a beat, his hands meeting yours at just the right height, his steps taking just the right stride. You suppose dancing is like sparring. Eye to eye, hand to hand, twist to turn.  

“After this, I will have all the girls in court hovering about me for a turn of the floor,” he muses with a grimace. 

“Do not expect any sympathy from me,” you scoff, pleased by the idea. 

“You find humour in my misery, Lady Baratheon?” 

“I believe it is recompense, your Grace.” 

“Recompense?” you both turn, switching places and, for the smallest of moments, you are just close enough for his lips to press against your ear, his words little more than a whisper, “ for what ?” 

Your heart flutters, not surprised by his question, only the manner in which he asks it. A whisper seems so unnecessarily intimate without the need for secrecy.  

You reach your hand above your head to meet with his, a shaky breath steadying your runaway heart. “I spend every dance alone, now you will spend them with a gaggle of admirers, though I’m sure most men would find that to be a pleasure rather than a punishment.” 

Aemond snorts, “you think I’m like most men?” 

“No . Most men are not princes.” That wasn’t the only reason, but you were not about to afford him a compliment.  

A smile flicks across his face before he turns you around so your back is to his chest, “you could dance with me for the remainder of the evening. That would solve both of our problems.” 

You laugh nervously, “I believe that would create an entire host of new problems.” 

You face him again, his head cocked to the side, “such as?” 

“Such as...” you hold your tongue, and he's so desperately close that you’re almost certain he can hear what you’re thinking. 

Yet you hardly know what you're thinking. 

Perhaps you think of the talk which would occur if every one of your dances was in his arms. Or maybe you imagine how much Maris would hate you for it. But mostly you think of your horror if you enjoyed every moment, like you are enjoying every moment of this dance.  

The press of his hand, the scent of his skin. The way he looks at you as though there is no one else on the floor and, maybe there isn’t.  

The other dancers have faded to swirls of movement like watercolours across the canvas of your periphery, but Aemond is all black, unmistakable .  

You reach your hand behind your back, and he meets it, the soft press of his fingers gripping yours into another turn.  

"You haven’t answered my question,” he reminds you and his words are another whisper, another secret, and he’s so terribly close.  

But you suppose that is the entire point of dances such as these. They are for lovers, to force you within a hair's breadth of propriety, to make your body yearn for something more just before you pull away and the spell is broken. 

“It hardly matters,” you conclude, realising the music had finished some time ago. 

Dipping into a lazy curtsy, you force a careless smirk upon your lips, “the hordes are already descending, and I have no interest in fighting for your honour, your grace.”  

Turning to leave, you dare not to look back at the ladies who have gathered around him. Instead, you walk up the steps, past your sisters, to somewhere you can breathe. 

When the music starts again, you try not to think of the next lady in his arms, and you don’t have to, because Aemond is suddenly standing right in front of you, and your heart is jumping out of your chest. 

“How did you escape?” you gasp, glancing over your shoulder to the dancers swirling around the floor. 

“I explained that I could not stand to dance again since my Lady Baratheon had stepped on my foot more than a dozen times.”  

“I did not!” you snap, annoyed, your cheeks burning. "Now everyone will think that is why no one asks me to dance.” 

“Not everyone,” Aemond says and, just as you’re about to find the courage to ask what he means, the queen arrives to stand by your side. 

“What are you two conspiring about?” she says, her brows raised at her son. 

Aemond’s face gives nothing away and he might be well adept at ignoring her, but you are not.  

“His grace was telling me about the crown library,” you say, thinking books are as safe a topic to discuss as any. 

“Hm,” she tilts her head thoughtfully. “I am surprised you have not taken her there yet.” 

Aemond frowns. “Am I to be tour guide to every lady who arrives at court?” 

“No,” a wry smile twitches at her lips and you can see she is considering her next words very carefully. “Only the ones who amuse you.” 

Aemond scoffs, "if the lady amuses me, it is only because she cannot dance.” 

"Really ?” Alicent laughs, "how strange. From where I was seated, it seemed as though you were quite... entranced .” 

Aemond’s cheek twitches, his breath sharp and, for once, he looks as though he does not know what to say, but you do.  

“The prince is right, your grace, we are not well suited to dance or in any regard at all. Please, excuse me,” you curtsy to them both and take your leave, not only from him but from the entire party.  

For someone who seemed intent on forcing himself into your company, he had a strange way of making you look like a complete fool at every opportunity. What was wrong with him?  

~~~

Hope you all enjoyed that chapter. 'Do I wanna know?' is my favorite song for this story so I was thrilled when I found the string version of it <3

[horizon-verizon]

This had been bothering me for awhile but I only now stumbled into this by accident. Certain people love to whine that Rhaenyra is a "hypocrite" for not forcibly instituting realm-wide genderless succession. They favour the line "this isn't Dorne" and then claim that she's a bad person for not making it into Dorne, while pretending that they wouldn't call her reckless or tyrannical if she'd tried to do so.

Of course (at least, people should see it as "of course"), that simply wouldn't work. Not just because it would be unprecedented for the Crown to enforce their own rules of succession, but also because you just cannot implement an involuntary system like that in a patriarchal society. If you left it uncertain, enforcing it on a case-by-case basis upon Houses that did not agree to it, you create uncertainty from which countless succession crises will occur after the head of house dies without naming the daughter over the younger son. If you implement it on a universal basis, you pretty much guarantee mass rebellions in a realm like Westeros. Those were the concerns of the Black council. But there's yet another. Even if the Crown had the power to enforce genderless succession, to squash or dissuade rebellion, you're left with yet another inevitability that we have seen in real life when you tell families in a patriarchal society that their legacy might be reduced to only a daughter.

In my opinion, there is no "realistic" way to write a change like that going through, being forced through in Westeros that doesn't result in mass infanticide and abandonment of first-born girls. And that's on top of the rebellions.

And this whole time I've been assuming that "Dornish" genderless succession was either a world-building error on GRRM's part, or something he meant to clarify or flesh out later on (misunderstanding or not, Arianne's worries must have had a deeper, environmental foundation after all). Because it's been so long since I read the books cover-to-cover (between GoT seasons 6&7 do NOT make me think about the year and time passing) I suppose I might have just let "fanon" shape my view of it. Because there IS a very widespread assertation, one that's gotten very loud as of late (very interesting how one "other" is so often used to tear down the worse "other." For another time though.) that all of Dorne somehow has embraced genderless succession and this is of course for some reason mostly brought up to argue about how Rhaenyra is a bad person for wanting to be the special exception, or how House Targaryen is bad for wanting to be the special exception in this regard.

But these are GRRM's words.

A ruling princess of Dorne would =not= take the name of her consort. And some of the major Dornish lordlings also follow this custom, in imitation of the ruling house.

And this is why before diving in further to a Targ-Martell comparison I ask you, resident expert in remembering and cataloging all those kinds of details, if there's some line in the main series outright contradicting this. Because if not, I'm pretty sure House Martell made itself a special exception. That the genderless succession they follow is the exception and not the rule even in Dorne. And by making themselves a special exception, they ended up setting an example that some houses follow on a voluntary basis.

And for some reason... no one is whining about it. 🤔

No, it is true other houses in Dorne have female heads and heirs before/during the main series timewise and thus practice absolute primogenture:

Delonne Allyrion, the Lady of Godsgrace (heir = Ryon, male) [current]

Larra Blackmont, Lady of Blackmount (heir = Jynessa, female) [current]

Clarisse Dayne, the Lady of Starfall [Maegor I's reign]

Myria Jordayne, heir of the current lord Trebor Jordayne of the Tor

So yes, some Dornish houses do practice absolute primogeniture and the Martells are not an "exception". It's not ubiquitous nor is it rare or uncommon. Nymeria had her warrior women marry many pre-Nymeria Conquest Andal-Dornish lords as well as shared Rhoynar metal and customs that over time simply reshaped a lot of Dorne forever; the northmost Dornish tend to be "less" Rhoynar in custom or practices, but apparently the non-Dornish marcher lords still see them as Other and gripe about their accents a lot. The northenmost Dornish are called "stony" by Daeron I, and tend to have members who can be lighter in ski and hair than other Dornishmen. Same trend for absolute primogeniture, though yes, much less specific bc George doesn't really get into Dorne aside for the Martells, Arianne, Dorna, and the Sand Snakes/Areo Hotah.

[beyondmistland]

Something I've been thinking about lately is how the ruling house of Dorne isn't stylized simply as Martell but specifically Nymeros Martell. As far as I know, this is the only example we have of a Westerosi house whose surname is composed of two words apart from Bar Emmon. (Still baffles me that GRRM decided to make them Andals, especially when he also named their founder Togarion.) Anyway, we know that Nymeria was succeeded by the eldest of her four daughters by Mors Martell and that she had no children by the aged Lord Uller (probably due to his aforementioned age) BUT she did have one son with Ser Davos Dayne, which has me wondering...does Starfall have a second cadet branch stylized Nymeros Dayne?! In TWOIAF its said that "twoscore" (i.e. forty) lords bent the knee to Daeron I at the Submission of Sunspear and right now we only have the names of twenty extant Dornish houses so I think its certainly a possibility. (Pity whoever is the lord or knight of Stinkwater though.)

[swordshq]

three wanted connections have been added to the page !

DARRON DAYNE  (  fabien frankel  )  is  in  search  of  their  CONFIDANT/ CHIVALRIC LOVE  (  romantic/ platonic ).  they  are  around  25-30  and  might  look  like  Olivia Cooke (!!).  it  is  required to  message  them  before  applying  (  @hexrts-bxne  ).  This woman resides in the red keep as a lady in waiting and has formed a close friendship with Darron who is a member of the kingsguard. He loves her and would do anything for her but has never told her or attempted to act on his feelings because of his vows. He's extremely devoted to her anyway. She could love him back or be using him. I would be open to either! 

WESLEY KARSTARK  (  rege jean page  )  is  in  search  of  their  WIFE  (  familial  ).  they  are  around  30 - 34  and  might  look  like  olivia cooke, sarah bolger, simone ashley, freida pinto, any female fc .  it  is  not  required  to  message  them  before  applying  (  CASIOPEIAE  ).  have been married its this vibe of like  i married you but it was never my decision - she is whom I love, and I will not publicly shame you by making it so to public eyes but i will not let her go either.  married her as it was planned when they were children to form an alliance between their houses, pretty much did his duty and had two children with her and went back to his mistress. whether they get along is to be plotted! I don't believe he would ever be overly cruel to her, though. 

NYMERIA  MARTELL  (  bruna marquezine  )  is  in  search  of  their  SPIES  (  other  ).  they  are  around  25+  and  might  look  like  beren saat, laurie davidson, oliver jackson cohen, aneurin barnard, arsema thomas, himesh patel, jacob anderson, any fc.  it  is not  required  to  message  them  before  applying  (  @CASIOPEIAE  ).  sent  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms,  nymeria's  network  of  spies  ensures  she  is  well  aware  of  any  possible  risks  to  her  own  and  anything  that  might  be  used  against  others. these  two  are  her  most  trusted,  and  she  relies  on  them  to  always  be  direct  with  her.

[lcveblossomed]

modern hotd careers and life headcanons pt 2

nymeria ashwood - a college student studying to be an anthropologist double majored in anthropology and general history. she dreams of traveling the world studying cultures and writing about them. she is reserved and spends most of her time in the college library as her roommate is much too loud for her liking. she allows herself to isolate as much as possible and most people don't know who she is.

elaenys targaryen - while elaenys was always close to her twin sister she never felt as smart as helaena and was always insecure about it. to make up for it she threw herself fully into what she was best at, sports. she has played soccer, rugby, ran track, and fencing. she has always felt like she had something to prove even if no one noticed her work. she is now in college to be a physical therapist still throwing a lot of her energy into sports hoping her dad will come to a game one day and be proud of her.

sylvina dayne - fashion is the name of the game. she has always had an eye for these things a trendsetter before she knew what that was. she got into college only to be cut off by her family unable to afford it otherwise she started modeling and continued to work modeling jobs as she went to college for fashion forecasting & fashion design. she will eventually retire from modeling to focus on creating the latest trends in fashion and styling the stars.

joran dayne - cut off from the family just like sylvina was he looked after his sister the best he good while joining the military. he has now been through a few tours and after losing his left leg has retired to try and find peace and a quiet life. he now works at a non profit to help soldiers and is a disability rights activist. he's taking the world by storm with protests and pushes toward laws to help his fellow soldiers after they come home.

anari quorgyle - an old money darling who is beloved by all. anari quorgyle from the quorgyle family known for more money than could be spent in 100 lifetimes. anari does a lot charity work some think it's to save face while those who know her know it's how she prefers to spend her time. she doesn't have to work and she doesn't other than hosting events and fundraisers of course. she enjoys a quiet life when she can though for the most part she is plastered over gossip rags and newspapers.

[wnterreign]

sender  offers  receiver  a  bite  from  their  fork . ft.     dovasary dayne     @ruinovs

        despite  the  still  unusual silence,  nymeria  was utterly delighted to be sharing her cousin's company again, even if it was only for a meal, though she kept her joy to herself save for the quiet smile on her lips. movement out of the corner of her eye made her look up from her own plate, and eyes widened slightly upon seeing dove holding out her fork. realization dawned quickly, brightening the princess' expression, and she took a bite of the offered food.        ❝ i can see why you enjoy this dish so much, ❞        she said before holding out her own fork, intent on returning the gesture.

[ashccra]

@nymxros​                ❛  do people always fall in love with things they can’t have ?  ❜

--------- ❛ Mayhap is because we all love a challenge ❜ The Dayne shrugs, though she herself often daydreams of love and damsels in distress and gallant knights that rescue them from high towers. Ashara’s stretches her arms overs Elia’s shoulders and rest her cheek against that olive warm skin with a half friendly smile on her lips, her sweet princess who would have thought she’s so romantic?                            ---- ❛ Is this because of the handsome T A R G A R Y E N prince? ❜ It was so unlike her dearest friend to be so forward with such thoughts, maybe something was troubling her but what?  Under the dim light of King’s Landing the two dornish women hold their bodies together as if they were one, the salty sea just a few steps away from them, the weak waves that reached the shored kissed sometimes the tips of them shoes. Ashara’s violet gaze gets lost in the horizon, wishing for the sun to be warmer or the breeze or the sand to be less humid.  ❛Either way my d e a r e s t princess if he doesn’t LOVE you back then worry not, for I and your family, and mine and the entirety of Dorne. Love you like the flaming ships Nymeria set aflame at the Dornish shores ❜

[gcdschosen]

SENTENCE STARTER : ❛ i enjoy the night . without the dark , we’d never see the stars .❜ ft. @heartfyres nehir nymeros martell + allyria dayne

The princess smiled at her . Allyria's company was always a welcomed one . ❝ It is no surprise that you of all people would say something like that , my friend . ❞ Not many could say they held such a dear spot in Princess Nehir's heart , and even fewer were the ones with whom she would speak with such naturality . ❝ But though I much prefer the sun shining during day time , I must agree with you , ❞ her eyes went to the sky as she spoke , lazily gazing upon the stars until she found Nymeria's star , shining brightly with her ten thousand ships right behind her . She turned her face to Allyria with a smile . ❝ The stars are a true wonder , even if none more so than the one besides me tonight . ❞

[martellsource]

The flames lit the coast for fifty leagues as hundreds of leaking, listing hulks were put to the torch and turned to ash; in the light of their burning, Princess Nymeria named Mors Martell the Prince of Dorne, in the Rhoynish style, asserting his dominion over "the red sands and the white, and all the lands and rivers from the mountains to the great salt sea." Such supremacy was easier to declare than to achieve, however. Years of war followed, as the Martells and their Rhoynar partners met and subdued one petty king after another. No fewer than six conquered kings were sent to the Wall in golden fetters by Nymeria and her prince, until only the greatest of their foes remained: Yorick Yronwood, the Bloodroyal, Fifth of His Name, Lord of Yronwood, Warden of the Stone Way, Knight of the Wells, King of Redmarch, King of the Greenbelt, and King of the Dornish. For nine years Mors Martell and his allies (amongst them House Fowler of Skyreach, House Toland of Ghost Hill, House Dayne of Starfall, and House Uller of the Hellholt) struggled against Yronwood and his bannermen (the Jordaynes of the Tor, the Wyls of the Stone Way, together with the Blackmonts, the Qorgyles, and many more), in battles too numerous to mention. When Mors Martell fell to Yorick Yronwood's sword in the Third Battle of the Boneway, Princess Nymeria assumed sole command of his armies. Two more years of battle were required, but in the end it was Nymeria that Yorick Yronwood bent the knee to, and Nymeria who ruled thereafter from Sunspear. Though she married twice more (first to the aged Lord Uller of Hellholt, and later to the dashing Ser Davos Dayne of Starfall, the Sword of the Morning), Nymeria herself remained the unquestioned ruler of Dorne for almost twentyseven years, her husbands serving only as counselors and consorts. She survived a dozen attempts upon her life, put down two rebellions, and threw back two invasions by the Storm King Durran the Third and one by King Greydon of the Reach. When at last she died, it was the eldest of her four daughters by Mors Martell who succeeded her, not her son by Davos Dayne, for by then the Dornish had come to adopt many of the laws and customs of the Rhoynar, though the memories of Mother Rhoyne and the ten thousand ships were fading into legend. -- The World of Ice and Fire

[sayruq]

All the Sand Snakes are depicted as being capable of violence, even Sarella shows up with a bow and arrow. But Obara is written differently. Obara’s the first one to show up. She's brutish, angry and quick to threaten violence. Obara wants to use her spear and even thinks Dorne should attack the Reach and more specifically Oldtown. 

"Obara would have me go to war." Nym laughed. "Yes, she wants to set the torch to Oldtown. She hates that city as much as our little sister loves it."

She's set up to look like an out-of-control wild card. Yet neither Doran nor Arianne seem to fear her, Areo does not want to hurt her either. She is repeatedly contrasted with her sisters- Obara's louder, more prone to drinking, angrier, and more tragic- her mother killed herself after Oberyn took her and Obara has been running from the grief ever since.

She snorted. "It has been twenty years, or near enough to make no matter. And I was not here long. I am the whore's whelp, or had you forgotten?"

"Tyene. Obara is too loud. Tyene is so sweet and gentle that no man will suspect her. Obara would make Oldtown our father's funeral pyre, but I am not so greedy.

"The day my father came to claim me, my mother did not wish for me to go. 'She is a girl,' she said, 'and I do not think that she is yours. I had a thousand other men.' He tossed his spear at my feet and gave my mother the back of his hand across the face, so she began to weep. 'Girl or boy, we fight our battles,' he said, 'but the gods let us choose our weapons.' He pointed to the spear, then to my mother's tears, and I picked up the spear. 'I told you she was mine,' my father said, and took me. My mother drank herself to death within the year. They say that she was weeping as she died."

Obara is too fond of wine

She's also not as sly or cunning as Nymeria or Tyene, she's not as clever as Sarella or as carefree as Elia. She's open and honest with her intentions, she speaks harshly but a lot of what she says has truth in them. A call for war isn't lauded by the text but it is true that sooner or later war would come to Dorne.

"War will come, whether we wish it or not," said Obara. "A boy king sits the Iron Throne. Lord Stannis holds the Wall and is gathering northmen to his cause. The two queens are squabbling over Tommen like bitches with a juicy bone. The ironmen have taken the Shields and are raiding up the Mander, deep into the heart of the Reach, which means Highgarden will be preoccupied as well. Our enemies are in disarray. The time is ripe."

[The time was ripe for Aegon to arrive 👀]

This is why I'm starting to think that Obara is going to be one of the eldest Sand Snakes to survive the series along with Sarella. She's deliberately framed as though she's a lost cause with some people in the fandom thinking she's capable of kinslaying and stabbing Areo in the back. Instead, I think she'll take Areo's role as captain of the guards when Arianne ascends the throne. 

The captain of guards knew the prince he guarded. Once, long ago, a callow youth had come from Norvos, a big broad-shouldered boy with a mop of dark hair. That hair was white now, and his body bore the scars of many battles . . . but his strength remained, and he kept his longaxe sharp, as the bearded priests had taught him.

When a serving girl knelt to wipe up the spilled wine, Obara left the hall. After a moment Princess Arianne excused herself and went after her. Obara would never turn her rage on the little princess, Hotah knew. They are cousins, and she loves her well.

"I know you will not fail us, cousins." Arianne went to each of them in turn, took their hands, kissed them lightly on the lips. "Obara, so fierce. Nymeria, my sister. Tyene, sweetling. I love you all. The sun of Dorne goes with you."

Obara loves her cousin, Arianne trusts her, and Obara would fiercely defend her if necessary. We have already gotten a preview of what her service to Arianne would be like.

Only Ser Gerold Dayne had escaped unscathed. Darkstar. If Myrcella's horse had not shied at the last instant, his longsword would have opened her from chest to waist instead just taking off her ear. Dayne was her most grievous sin, the one that Arianne most regretted. With one stroke of his sword, he had changed her botched plot into something foul and bloody. If the gods were good, by now Obara Sand had treed him in his mountain fastness and put an end to him.

Obara is being sent with Areo on a mission to clean up the Queenmaker plot... I don’t think it’s a mistake or GRRM trying to find something for Obara to do. I’m genuinely starting to think this is her endgame.

‘But Say, Obara wants war and she doesn’t care about peace,’ I hear you saying. While Obara’s wish for war isn’t exactly morally exemplary, it hasn’t happened. It can’t happen, I suspect Obara knew that when she went to Doran, a man known for exercising caution. At any rate, rather than being discarded as a lost cause, Obara will be given an opportunity to learn an important lesson.

Prince Doran shut his eyes and opened them again. Hotah could see his leg trembling underneath the blanket. "If you were not my brother's daughters, I would send the three of you back to your cells and keep you there until your bones were grey. Instead I mean to take you with us to the Water Gardens. There are lessons there if you have the wit to see them." "Lessons?" said Obara. "All I've seen are naked children." "Aye," the prince said. "I told the story to Ser Balon, but not all of it. As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. 'There is your realm,' she told her son and heir, 'remember them, in everything you do.' My own mother said those same words to me when I was old enough to leave the pools. It is an easy thing for a prince to call the spears, but in the end the children pay the price. For their sake, the wise prince will wage no war without good cause, nor any war he cannot hope to win.

This lesson isn’t something that Arianne needs to learn, she learnt it bitterly when Arys died and when Myrcella was mutilated. It’s Obara’s lesson to learn. In fact, the children in the Water Gardens are brought up to Obara multiple times.

The captain of guards knew the prince he guarded. Once, long ago, a callow youth had come from Norvos, a big broad-shouldered boy with a mop of dark hair. That hair was white now, and his body bore the scars of many battles . . . but his strength remained, and he kept his longaxe sharp, as the bearded priests had taught him. She shall not pass, he told himself, and said, "The prince is watching the children at their play. He is never to be disturbed when he is watching the children at their play." "Hotah," said Obara Sand, "you will remove yourself from my path, else I shall take that longaxe and—"

Hotah could hear them splashing and shouting at each other in high, shrill voices. "It was not so long ago that you were one of the children in those pools, Obara," the prince said, when she took one knee before his rolling chair. She snorted. "It has been twenty years, or near enough to make no matter. And I was not here long. I am the whore's whelp, or had you forgotten?"

The prince gestured toward the pools. "Obara, look at the children, if it please you." "It does not please me. I'd get more pleasure from driving my spear into Lord Tywin's belly. I'll make him sing 'The Rains of Castamere' as I pull his bowels out and look for gold."

‘Obara, look at the children. You were once one of them.’ Repeated over and over again for a reason. When Euron attacks the Water Gardens (GRRM said Daenerys wouldn’t attack it but he didn’t say it wouldn’t be attacked. The Water Gardens like the Maidenpool will serve as another reminder of the cruelty of war), Obara will be there, trying to protect them. She’ll get to use her spear in a futile but necessarily attempt to defend those children. 

Seven, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice. She stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand. "Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me."

Decades ago Obara was given a choice between her mother and the spear and Obara chose the spear. Since then she hasn’t had an opportunity to use it. Her mother died crying because of that spear and Obara has nothing to show for it until now. First, she’ll avenge Myrcella, a child who was maimed, by taking down her attacker Gerold Dayne. Then, she’ll return to her uncle and fight another man who harms children- Euron. She won’t win then- I’m starting to suspect she might be the Sand Snake that is dragged through the streets by Euron as shown on the TV show- but she won’t die. Her story won’t end there.

It will end in Dorne, in the Water Gardens. It’ll end when Arianne takes her rightful place as Princess of Dorne. It’ll end after the last war is finished and Westeros begins rebuilding. Dorne will take a lot of damage in Aegon VI’s war with Daenerys and Arianne will need support from her remaining family and from her oldest cousin to rebuild it. Most importantly the woman who felt she did not have a place will finally know that she belonged to those pools and to Dorne. She might finally be at peace with the choice she made when her father came to collect her.

[aegor-bamfsteel]

If the Princess of Dorne of the time was not of a military bent, theoretically, who would lead the Dornish levies in times of war: the younger brother of the Princess of Dorne, or her Prince Consort Yronwood, Qorgyle, Manwoody, etc? This is assuming both are competent military leaders, and have a good relationship with the ruling Dornish Princess? Basically, who outranks the other - a Prince of House Martell, or a Prince Consort?

Canon provides us with contradicting evidence. Prince Doran made his brother Oberyn commander of the Dornish forces, but then his consort is estranged. Princess Aliandra made her consort Drazenko Rogare “Lord of the Stepstones” over her siblings Coryanne and Qyle, but he’s never mentioned to have fought in a battle, and he also had the backing of his powerful Essosi family; Aliandra later ordered her knights to raid the Marches (seems like after she was widowed), but we‘re not told who was in charge of the operation. Then of course there’s Nymeria, whose last consort Davos Dayne was only “ever an advisor and consort” rather than an equal commander, though she’s of a military bent (though GRRM flip flopped on this). Meria Martell’s consort isn’t mentioned, and the Dornish resistance seemed scattered, so we don’t even know if she or Nymor (who wanted peace) led armies themselves. The other named Ruling Princesses of Dorne, Deria and Mara, notably didn’t fight (though Deria is supposed to have secretly aided the Vulture King, she’s not mentioned to have directly led an army), but we don’t know anything about their siblings or consorts.

I think Aliandra’s case is probably the most informative: if the consort has enough power through family ties or personal charisma/competence, then he’s the one who gets to lead the armies and take at least ceremonial governance of any conquered territory. If he doesn‘t, and the sibling does, I could see that sibling commanding armies like Oberyn with Doran. But we’d need more in-depth examples to know for sure.

[asongoficeandfiresource]

The Loves of Queen Nymeria

When Mors Martell took Nymeria to wife, hundreds of his knights, squires, and lords bannermen also wed Rhoynish women, and many of those who were already wed took them for their paramours. Thus were the two peoples united by blood. These unions enriched and strengthened House Martell and its Dornish allies.

For nine years Mors Martell and his allies (amongst them House Fowler of Skyreach, House Toland of Ghost Hill, House Dayne of Starfall, and House Uller of the Hellholt) struggled against Yronwood and his bannermen (the Jordaynes of the Tor, the Wyls of the Stone Way, together with the Blackmonts, the Qorgyles, and many more), in battles too numerous to mention. When Mors Martell fell to Yorick Yronwood’s sword in the Third Battle of the Boneway, Princess Nymeria assumed sole command of his armies. Two more years of battle were required, but in the end it was Nymeria that Yorick Yronwood bent the knee to, and Nymeria who ruled thereafter from Sunspear.

Though she married twice more (first to the aged Lord Uller of Hellholt, and later to the dashing Ser Davos Dayne of Starfall, the Sword of the Morning), Nymeria herself remained the unquestioned ruler of Dorne for almost twentyseven years, her husbands serving only as counselors and consorts.

[reginarubie]

hi I'm the anon from before about being hesitant to send a prompt! I'm glad that to hear your almost done with night shift and that your taking steps to take care of yourself!

Here the prompt I wanted to send and again do it on your own pace!

Pairing: Jonsa

au: John wick

it pretty much follows canon John wick where Sansa dies and she gives him dogs lady and ghost, John gets attack and lady is killed while ghost survived so he goes full dark Jon like the movies. Eventually he realizes he lost his way when the ring that Sansa and him exchanged was taken and he was forced back into the life he left to be with sans so once the battle is over and he has his ring back he spends the rest trying to do good, be the man she loved. idk starts charities, restore and preserve history,etc.

idk really know, this was just an idea but I'd be happy with any John Wick au of them

The other prompt isn't like a ship thing though. Its more of a sibling dynamic

Pairing: Arya and Sansa

Au: Arya goes through her first heartbreak and the family was worried before figuring out that IT'S ARYA. She'll be fine. But Sans is not convince, she notices that Arya doesn't have that same wildness when they argue. Notice that she spends more time staring into space, etc. Arya was not ok.

That's all I really have, I just want some solo sisters dynamic between them.

I had one for Stranger things LuMax and Eddie criss but idk if your part of that fandom. Wow this is a lot, again take your time!

Ciao anon!, thank you again for your concern!

Since, as we spoke about, I am taking things at my own pace I decided to start with the Arya/Sansa sister prompt, but you will get also the John Wick AU (after I've had time to rewatch it, since I've seen it like twice, bits and pieces and I'd like to have a better grasp of some foggy details that had intrigued me and I'd like to put in the story as well). I'm not really a great fan of Stranger Things, but I adore my girl, Max (another red-head...hmm...my bf is a red-head...hmm...I'm starting to see a pattern here) so let me know what it was that you were hoping for, with LuMax as they are adorable!

So, let's hop onto this sister-time between our fav Stark girls! Fair warning since I love, adore and would die for Edric/Arya we shall see a tiny bit also of Edric Dayne in this story (sorry if, instead, you don't like that pairing) and since Gendry did kind of break Arya's heart in canon he is her previous boyfriend.

Prompt: Arya goes through her first heartbreak and the family was worried before figuring out that IT'S ARYA. She'll be fine. But Sans is not convince, she notices that Arya doesn't have that same wildness when they argue. Notice that she spends more time staring into space, etc. Arya was not ok.

Of course, since we're speaking of love between siblings the songs that inspired me were Brother by Kodaline and Hey Brother by Avicii (and from lines of these songs I've drawn the title). Both of them are pretty young here, I'm thinking on Sansa being seventeen going to eighteen and Arya being fifteen.

It's short, but I promise it's sweet.

Warm and safe [for you, there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do]

[As always I cannot stress enough that the pieces of art are NOT mine, I simply collect them on the net and use them! Credit to the artist, because the work is amazing and it fit with the idea of a young Arya and Sansa going through heartbreak]

Arya almost slips on the last step of the staircase, though that might be because Nymeria has been hanging around her feet, or her slipper might have caught and slipped, yet her sister looks... miles away, not present.

Since they had been kids Arya had been the agiler and swifter of the two of them, graceful in her own way, her sister had been like a cat, able to fall on her feet even from the house in the tree in the backyard. It's strange, off-putting to see her so easily tripping like a klutz when her sister had never been such.

But what scares Sansa the most is that Arya is almost never quiet, unless she's plotting your demise — in that case you better start running for your life [just saying] — she's always moving, always speaking...she's a tumultuous volcano of activity.

When they had been little her anger had been worse, spiked and provoked way too easily, and when she had been diagnosed with ADHD most of them had been surprised to learn how much of her behavior was a direct result not only of it, but of the way they had been going around to try and help or contain her.

Now she's so quiet that Sansa has sneaked in her room whilst she was showering to make sure she is taking her meds correctly and it's not abusing them or not using them or... Sansa doesn't know, alright? — she's not a doctor — but if it's something that has to do with the ADHD it might pass through her meds and if those are in the correct amount based on her therapy (and yes, Sansa has sneaked also in her mother's room and controlled the right dosage in her sister's folder, which maybe she shouldn't have done it without permission, but she's worried) she can safely argue that maybe it's something else.

Though she still doesn't know what might have rendered her usually active, energetic and easygoing sister closed off and quiet beyond any measure. That is until Bran comments on how Meera's classmate, Gendry is strangely absent from their home and inquires with Arya about his wellbeing and suddenly everything clicks in her mind. She exchanges a look with Bran and knows Bran has done it on purpose.

“I wouldn't know,” Arya sneers “we're not together anymore” her voice sounds like vitriol. Sansa wonders if it tastes as acid as it sounds. Somehow she feels like it might taste like heartbreak.

Sansa had found Gendry lovely in his own bullheaded way, he had proved time after time he could stand his ground with Arya. The two of them, despite the age-gap had met in the gym Arya usually frequented (the same gym she has been finding excuses to go to in the last couple of weeks) and had started boxing together. In the matter of a couple of years they had started to go out together and Arya had seemed happy.

That's how, in the middle of a saturday morning the entire Stark household discovers that Arya and her boyfriend Gendry have broken things off.

For the first few weeks everyone is overly indulgent with Arya, which makes her angry — which is still better than the apathy both Sansa and Bran had noticed — Jon, their cousin and Arya's favored relative, comes around more often even while he attends college at Castle Black and Robbs returns almost every weekend from Silverhill college; Bran shares more of his video-games with her and Rickon offers to train with her. Their father just has this sad look in his eyes like he understands and brings home her favorite ice-cream more often than not. Their mother, has stopped lamenting on Arya's purple dyed hair or Arya's scruffy-looking manner.

Until slowly things return back to normal.

Afterall, Rickon comments one day when Arya, strong, willful Arya flips them all off and declares she is going out for a run alone “It's Arya, figures she'd get over him in no time”

Still, Sansa can't help but worrying.

In fact, while Arya does seem to be on the mend, though her grades have not gotten better, and starts again to enjoy her own activities (and takes to box again); she's even started to hang out with her friends again — Hotpie [And no, Sansa is never getting over the fact that, that is his real name] and Lyra Mormont — and Sansa is happy because of it; there is still something that feels off to her.

She tries to talk it over with her mother, whose response is of “Arya is as stubborn as I was her age, she'll get over it, she only needs time”

Yet...contrary to popular opinion in Arya's inner circle of friends and their family, Sansa still doesn't feel at ease.

So, and perhaps she's overstepping, when Sansa gets called by the principal to help a new transfer student to adjust and notices the way the boy's blue-almost-purple eyes seem to search for her sister around the building after he first caught sight of her, she decides it's time she learns to delegate and introduces the two of them.

Edric is kind and soft-spoken and not as bull-headed as Gendry but not for that less firm, Sansa sees that every time Arya makes plain he is overstepping (even when he really isn't) he gives her space, but without being recalcitrant about it, tries to coax her out of her shell again, even when he fails it doesn't seem to deter him; plus he is very friendly and easily falls into a cherished friendship with Arya's circle of friends.

Still doesn't mean Arya appreciated her help.

“So,” Sansa begins one night as they are busy preparing for the night, Arya is wearing her silly minions pajamas and Sansa is skin-caring “how is Edric? He seems like such a darling”

Arya, it seems has been at the end of her patience about this particular matter, so she slams her toothbrush on the sink and turns to her “Stop it,” she demands of her “just, stop it. He's annoying and restless”

And for a glorious moment Sansa thinks it's almost like having her sister back, the one who would not back down from an argument if her life depended on it.

“I think he likes you,” Sansa sing-songs mostly to goad her, try to get her out of her walls. It doesn't work, Arya's face and eyes which would've sparked with ire before, suddenly close off and shut down.

Her sister deflates “I don't need—no, I don't want his pity and I don't want either your pity or your help” she says and her voice, instead of being dripping venom as it would have usually...

You're a liar!

... is instead resigned. It hurts in Sansa very marrow to see her sister so apathetic.

Arya washes her toothbrush and puts it in its place “Just leave it alone” she says, her voice uneven as if she's holding back tears and, upon closer inspection, Sansa does notice that her eyes are teary. Still, Arya turns her back to her and walks out, when Sansa has finished and leaves the shared bathroom, passing near Arya's slightly ajar door she sees her sister sat on the windowsill, looking out, spacing out. But it is not the kind of spacing out she does, from time to time, when she's considering hard something. This is... sadder, filled with unresolved feelings.

Sansa remembers the first time her heart broke. She had been fourteen, she had fancied herself in love with a childhood friend who had, in truth, been horrible and they'd gotten together, by the time her fourteenth birthday had come around Sansa, who should've been the one to be celebrated had discovered, instead, that her boyfriend had been cheating on her with one of her — at the time — dearest friend.

She doesn't remember much, she remembers crying, she remembers the slap and the way the blood had echoed in her ears after he had struck her, the way the pain in her cheek had been numbed by the one in her chest, only to increase her heartbreak. Honestly she did not know how she did it, but she had fished out her phone from her purse to find it dead — she had forgot to charge it — and had walked bare-foot because those hells were nightmarish on the hard concrete to the nearest public phone and she had somehow, with trembling hands composed the only number she could find on the worn out phone book. It had been the number of the bar Jon worked at part-time in Wintertown.

She still remembers the way her voice had shaken when they had answered “Jon..?” and the relief when the stranger had passed the call to Jon, she hadn't been able to speak, only sobbing but somehow Jon had recognized her. He had mounted on his bike and came to take her home. He and Robb had also beaten up Joff, but that was neither here not there, repaying the bruise on her cheek in kind and her father had sued Joffrey for it too. Yet, Sansa had been too spaced out that night to do anything but turn and turn again in her bed all night, her mother wasn't home because their grandfather had fallen and broken his leg and needed care and she had felt so alone, until Arya had come to her room at two in the night — grumbling apparently annoyed about her moving and sobbing keeping her awake from the other room — with warm milk and a lemon cake, had not forced her to eat, but left it on her bedside table before sneaking inside her bed and curling like a small dormouse around Sansa, embracing her. Lady and Nymeria had curled around each other and the feet of the bed and Sansa had finally been able to sleep a bit.

So, as willful and stubborn as her other siblings and refusing to let Arya suffer alone because ‘it's Arya’, but exactly because ‘she's Arya’, she quietly slips in the kitchen and prepares her sister favorite vanilla hot chocolate and retrieves one of the baked biscuits Arya loves to much. Her father intercepts her as she returns upstairs, takes notice of the tray in her hands and smiles at her, kisses her forehead and lets her go, even if they have this rule not to eat any sweet after a certain hour.

She doesn't knock on the door, she just strides inside. Arya doesn't even take notice, she keeps looking out with that sad, resigned look on her face. A misplaced look.

Sansa cannot make her better with a snap of her fingers. She would if she could. But she can hold together her until things don't get better.

“Hey,” she calls after she has left the tray on the bed walking to the windowsill. Arya looks up startled when Sansa puts her hand on her shoulder “I know you don't want my help,” she starts “but I know you are hurting”

Arya sniffs and hastens to dry her tears “I am not hurting” she lies.

Sansa sighs and sits before her on the windowsill “It's okay to be hurting,” she tells her “it doesn't make you weak” she assures her.

Arya snorts “If you are about to say that it makes you stronger I will personally throttle you” and it's the most Arya thing they've gotten out of her lately. Unprompted nonetheless.

“No, it doesn't, not always anyway” she says “honestly, you might feel broken for a long time” she tells her.

Arya nods and looks out of the window for a long time, Sansa just sits there beside her, and at one point Arya offers her, her hand to hold and Sansa does. Firmly. Softly.

Arya sobs, instead, are not soft at all. But Sansa doesn't care as long as her sister, finally, feels safe enough to get all that hurt off her chest.

“It will get better,” Sansa promises “not today, not tomorrow. But one day”

“And until then?” Arya asks “fake it until you make it?” Sansa smiles at that, it had been a sort of mantra for her, after her breakup with Joffrey.

“How do you know it'll get better?,” Arya asks “did it get better for you?”

Sansa caresses her cheek “Of course it did, and of course it will for you too,” she replies “and I know because I am the smartest Stark in the shack” she says with a nudge to her sister nose with her own.

It's not true, not even at all. Without Bran's prompting none of them would have learned about the breakup for who knows how long, and Robb is a chess-genius. Still, it's a silly line, but it makes Arya gurgle a snort between her sobs.

“You are,” she says seriously after she has stopped sobbing and laughing together “you really are”

Sansa smiles softly at her “And you are the strongest person I know,” she says “you will get better, and you can do it alone too, but the point is... you don't have to” she tells her “I'm here. We all are”

And that's when the dam breaks, and Arya launches herself half in her lap curling around her and sobbing even harder than before. Sansa simply embraces her, cards a hand through her hair and murmurs encouragements and as much as comforting words as she can muster through the lump in her throat.

And when her sobs are subsided a bit, Sansa tugs at a lock of hair “And this color is the coolest” she says “Gendry has lost his winning at the lottery, but that's okay, because the win was yours alone to begin with and it's your right to share with whom you want and as you have to deserve their lottery they have to deserve yours”

So, four months after that, when Arya faceplates into the duvet of her bed mumbling incoherently “So, turns out Edric does like me” and Sansa rolls her eyes...

“You don't say?”

... and her sister sasses her right back her eyes sparkling, Sansa knows. Maybe she's not there yet, but she's on her way to get better.

And Arya will never know that Sansa has invited Gendry out for a coffee and given him a piece of her mind, chewed him whole and spat him out because he broke her little sister's heart (even though when someone falls out of love they can do little to avoid it), nor that she made sure that he is aware he has lost the coolest, cuddliest little menace he could ever hope to stand beside to.

And if she's had Jon and Bran — wheelchair and all — flanking her sides to intimidate him a bit, well that's her secret, no?

And, if when Arya turns nineteen and Gendry comes knocking at their door, and Arya flips him and his excuses off to then snuggle into Edric's — who had been playing video games with Bran and has put them on hold — embrace even though she has not admitted yet to her feelings properly; Sansa gives Gendry a mock ballet curtsy with a soft spoken but not for that less acrid ‘Told you so’, well that's just how things go, sometimes.

Fin

You can read it as well here, on ao3 (x)! Thank you again for the prompts, I'll get on with the others as well :D Hope everything is fine with you and that you enjoyed it!

As always sending all my love ~G.

[agentrouka-blog]

Just like Nymeria pulled out dead Cat from river, Edric Dayne pulled out dying Beric from river. He fought besides the resurrected Beric. After Beric death he left the group who were following Lady Stoneheart. Do you think it is mirror to Arya arc?

Hi anon!

They do have these parallels, indeed!

"Yes." He did not sound very proud of it. "I was at the Mummer's Ford. When Lord Beric fell into the river, I dragged him up onto the bank so he wouldn't drown and stood over him with my sword. I never had to fight, though. He had a broken lance sticking out of him, so no one bothered us. When we regrouped, Green Gergen helped pull his lordship back onto a horse."

Arya was remembering the stableboy at King's Landing. After him there'd been that guard whose throat she cut at Harrenhal, and Ser Amory's men at that holdfast by the lake. She didn't know if Weese and Chiswyck counted, or the ones who'd died on account of the weasel soup . . . all of a sudden, she felt very sad. "My father was called Ned too," she said. (ASOS, Arya VIII)

He does mirror Arya to this extent, but if anything, he's a much lighter mirror. He saves a living man, he never had to kill, his resurrected leader is a noble man, not a vengeful instigator of mass killings. Arya feels that difference between them, when it comes to killing, very keenly.

I suspect Ned has a role that serves to connect several threads of foreshadowing.

His self-effacing, noble bearing and lack of pride in battle might foreshadow Arya's own turn away from wrathful violence, specifically in connection to the body Nymeria pulled from the river: her own mother Lady Stoneheart, Catelyn Stark.

Ned's quasi-Valyrian appearance, his Dornish background, and his journey far from the home of which he is Lord touch on Aegon VI.

The story of Beric's resurrection touches on Lady Stoneheart but likely also on Jon Snow.

This exchange above is immediately followed by the story of Jon Snow's "real mother" Wylla, wetnurse to Ned Dayne and Jon Snow both. For all we know, Aegon and Jon Snow were actually milk brothers, as well, for a brief time at Starfall, after the one was born and the other still an infant hidden there by Ashara. Ned also makes sure to bring up Ashara.

Wylla herself recalls Gilly, wetnurse to hidden heirs, center of lies. Ned's status as Jon's "brother" (not blood) suggests a potential mirror to someone like Samwell Tarly. Both of them might access relevant information in their current location of Oldtown.

He is not so dissimilar from Podrick Payne, either, squire to a noble fighter after saving Tyrion from death in a watery battle.

I suspect that Ned gives us a hint at events in a future timeline by connecting several threads.

Jon's parentage (and Ned's fidelity) will come to the forefront in a timeline connection to Arya, a rising prominence of Starfall and House Dayne, Lady Stoneheart and Jon post resurrection, a "brother" to Jon Snow and a wetnurse, Aegon VI, and Brienne and Podrick. And Arya's turn from the dark side.

Incidentally, we have Brienne and Podrick already mixed up with Lady Stoneheart, Aegon freshly arrived in Westeros, Arya approaching the end of her Braavos arc, Sam and Gilly setting up shop in Oldtown and Jon in a great position to experience some kind of "resurrection" by having been conveniently stabbed quite a bit.

A wonderful soup is cooking up in the South, and all we need is Arya to come and bring it all together.

[wnterreign]

⟨  naomi scott.  cis woman.  she/her.  23.  ⟩        we welcome nymeria martell to king’s landing , the princess of dorne. keep an eye out for their naive nature, they tend to cover it up by acting jovial. rumor has it they are neutral to the peace treaty, and their loyalties lie with house martell. you’ll know it’s them when you get flashes of being as warm as the sun and burning as bright as one | the first rays of dawn turning the sky pink | galloping across the desert on a white horse 

BASICS.

FULL NAME:   nymeria martell. ALSO CALLED:   nymeria, nym, princess nymeria, the light of dorne. TITLES:   princess of dorne, lady of sunspear. AGE:   twenty-three. GENDER:   cis female, she / her. ORIENTATION:   bisexual, biromantic.

BIRTHPLACE:   sunspear, dorne. RELIGION:   faith of the seven. SPOKEN LANGUAGES:   common tongue, high valyrian, low valyrian.

STATUS:   unwed. not betrothed. LOYALTY:   house martell. 

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE:   jovial. courteous. gentle. intelligent. adventurous. NEGATIVE:   naive. gullible. reckless. idealistic. materialistic.

MORAL ALIGNMENT:   neutral good. TEMPERMENT:   sanguine. MBTI:   esfp - the entertainer.

APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM:   naomi scott. HEIGHT:   five feet, six inches. HAIR:   long, curly black hair that reaches her waist.  EYE COLOR:   black.

FAMILY

FATHER:   current paramour of the ruling princess. MOTHER:   ruling princess utp martell. SIBLINGS:   crown prince ryon martell ( older brother ), prince/ss utp martell, prince/ss utp martell, ( older siblings ). EXTENDED FAMILY:   prince/ss utp martell ( aunt/uncle ), princess nyadak martell ( aunt ), prince consort utp ( uncle ), prince abraxas martell ( uncle ), former ruling princess kari martell ( grandmother ), former ruling prince consort zandren dayne ( grandfather ), prince davos martell ( cousin ), princess dyanna martell ( cousin ), ysilla sand ( cousin ), oberyn sand ( cousin ), house dayne ( cousins ).

PETS:   a white sand steed named dune. a black cat with green eyes named sage.

HISTORY

the life of dorne’s youngest princess was almost cut painfully short. she was born early and many feared that she wouldn’t survive a month; the maester even said that her parents shouldn’t even bother naming her. instead, her parents declared that their daughter would survive and therefore would need a strong name. they settled on nymeria after the legendary warrior queen.

nymeria did battle numerous ailments as a child. she was prone to falling ill, which caused her family to worry. however she defeated them all. as the years passed the less frequent her illnesses were, but when she does get sick it does take her longer to recover - even from a mere cold. 

despite this, nymeria was a mischievous child. when she wasn’t sick she seemingly had endless energy growing up and was constantly hurrying from one activity to the next. she was curious about the world, always asking her parents to take her with them on their travels throughout dorne, and she often snuck out of the palace to explore.

her family was always very protective of her both due to her being the youngest and them worrying about her health. it did lead to nymeria being very spoiled and sheltered.

nymeria was always fairly removed from politics. since she’s third in line for the throne and the baby of the family, no one had ever seen much of a reason to overly involve her beyond what she needed to know to be safe. she didn’t mind. nymeria was very happy to simply enjoy her life without worrying about politics.

her father still insisted that she be taught to wield a sword so she could protect herself, though nymeria quickly chose daggers as her weapon of choice. she normally always carries at least one dagger with her at all times.

she was also taught how to horseback ride, which quickly became nymeria’s favorite past time. when she wasn’t occupies with her studies she would go to the stables and help take care of the horses. her grandfather taught her most of what she knows about riding and caring for the dornish sand steeds. he also helped her pick out her first horse, dune, when he was a foal and advised nymeria how to train him.

received a very good education growing up and really dedicated herself to her studies. she is a talented dancer and singer, and can also play multiple instruments. it’s very easy for people misjudge her and think that she’s dumb due to her bubbly, cheerful personality, but nymeria is very intelligent and perceptive. however, her sheltered upbringing does mean that she isn’t very well equip at the moment for the political game in westeros.

when she was a teenager she was finally allowed to travel beyond sunspear and the water gardens but never beyond dorne’s borders. this was mainly due to her parents worrying that something would happen to her if she left dorne ( no one has forgotten what happened to elia martell and her children ). nymeria didn’t argue, even if she did want to see the world that existed beyond dorne; she understood why her family worried and knew they only wanted the best for her.

she did take full advantage of being able to visit the other places in dorne! her frequent travels, sociable personality, and interest in both the highborn and lowborn people of the kingdom have made her very well-liked, earning her the monicker of the “light of dorne”. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS / LADIES-IN-WAITING  —  other dornish ladies that she grew up with in sunspear! could have been wards of the martells or have recently been invited to be nymeria’s ladies-in-waiting. these would be her best friends. nymeria views them as the sisters she doesn’t have. they’re inseparable. 

SWORN SHIELD  —  someone who is very loyal to house martell and would have been selected by nymeria’s parents when she was younger. 

PEN PALS  —  while nymeria has never traveled outside of dorne, she loves meeting people who travel to dorne from other areas of the world and would have definitely kept in touch with them after they left

CRUSH  —  could be one-sided, a past crush, etc. maybe they visited dorne once and have been writing to each other ever since. nymeria is someone who’d fall in love easily so the possibilities are endless! 

FUTURE BETROTHAL  —  while her parents were previously delaying arranging a marriage, especially one with a house outside of dorne, for nymeria, despite her eagerness to fall in love and marry, they have recently started actively looking into finding her a betrothal that will also further strengthen dorne. whether this marriage will go through and whether either parties are happy about the arrangement is entirely up in the air! ( though i’m definitely partial to enemies-to-lovers )

BROKEN BETROTHAL(S)  —  since the martells have been delaying a betrothal for nymeria they’ve probably considered some in the past only to turn them down. 

FRIENDS/ENEMIES/ETC