#vargo hoat

[greenbloods]

the black goat at harrenhal the symbol of qohor 150 years later the Goat will take harrenhal the visions show what will come to pass and the shadows dance backwards in time

[gotham-at-nightfall]

Jaime loses his sword hand

They mean to scare me. The fool hopped on Jaime’s back, giggling, as the Dothraki swaggered toward him. The goat wants me to piss my breeches and beg his mercy, but he’ll never have that pleasure. He was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; no sellsword would make him scream. Sunlight ran silver along the edge of the arakh as it came shivering down, almost too fast to see. And Jaime screamed. ~A Storm of Swords (Jaime III)

By Hed-ush

[slymreddwyne]

Howd it take me so long to realize "The Bear and the Maiden Fair" is about Jaime and Brienne at Harrenhal?

Brienne is the Dancing Bear

Jaime is the Maiden Fair

Harrenhal (site of a significant tourney/fair) is the Fair

Vargo Hoat is the Goat

And the Bloody Mummers with him were the Three Boys

[thewatcher0nthewall]

[wpmorse]

The beast turned clumsily, too far and too fast. Quick as a cat, Brienne changed direction. There's the wench I remember. She leapt in to land a cut across the bear's back. Roaring, the beast went up on his hind legs again. Brienne scrambled back away. Where's the blood? Then suddenly he understood. Jaime rounded on Hoat. "You gave her a tourney sword."

Jamie VI - 617

Brienne is made to fight the bear the Bloody Mummers caught in the last book. Here we see her getting a shot in, giving her a moment of relief before she realizes how useless it is. It was nice showing how badass Brienne is even in a rigged game. Though, I am embarrassed about how this bear turned out. It looks good, now that I fixed it in post. But considering how often I draw the ones in the zoo it should have been better.

[zetaaa]

Still mad about it.

No, my dear Jaime, you don't leave a girl wench behind after Roose "Skinner" Bolton tells her she has to worry about herself, and a lot. You don't do that. What the hell were you thinking?!??

(⬆ definitely not me dealing with the disappointment by making a bear pit GIF without Jaime)

(If there is any good in this GIF, it is thanks to Magali Villeneuve's amazing artwork, which inspired me. You can find it also here ⬇)

[death-of-cats]

GRRM writing ASOIAF like:

Cannibalism: 😀

Forced cannibalism: 😃🥰🔥

Forced self-cannibalism: 🔥🔥😄😘🔥🔥💯‼️❤️

[someasoiafart]

The Brave Companions by Caterina Gerbasi

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#funniest part of the ep. ‘yeah he’s probably seeing the goat by now.’ (via @ironmansbay)

larys was so funny for being like 'no it's cool that daemon took harrenhal he's experiencing horrors beyond our comprehension'

[asoiafandotherbooks]

Watch "Was the Red Wedding Foreshadowed?" on YouTube

[greenbloods]

The Crows of War

Vargo Hoat // The Tattered Prince

[cynicalclassicist]

Nicely thought out regarding Jaime Lannister's hand!

In the Grimms’ version of “The Girl Without Hands,” the devil forces the father to choose between forfeiting his own life and cutting off his daughter’s hands, and he chooses the latter. In most versions of the story, however, the father cuts off his daughter’s hands because she has refused to marry him. Alan Dundes posits the following:

Anyway, although the situations are quite different, I’ve been thinking about this in the context of Tywin using the loss of Jaime’s hand as a pretext to force him out of the Kingsguard and marry as Tywin has always wanted

Additionally, it was Tywin who brought the Brave Companions to Westeros so he is indirectly responsible for the loss of Jaime’s hand

[a-chaotic-dumbass]

chat is it gay to have a random jaime cock and balls segment in my dream abt harrenhal

[wpmorse]

Lord Tywin looked away, disgusted. "No longer. Ser Gregor's taken the castle. The sellswords deserted their erstwhile captain almost to a man, and some of Lady Whent's old people opened a postern gate. Clegane found Hoat sitting alone in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, half-mad with pain and fever from a wound that festered. His ear, I'm told."

Jamie Page 853

The Mountain arrives at Harrenhal to provide payback to Vargo maiming Jamie Lannister. It turns out to be quite anticlimactic.

This is the only time you can come close to rooting for Gregor Clegane.

I first imagined having Vargo Hoat sitting on a throne but I couldn't find any evidence that there was a throne in the Hall of a Hundred Hearts. Besides, I thought Hoat would come off as more pathetic sitting alone and abandoned in the middle of the Hall.

You can see everything a week early on my Patreon Page.

[thetormentita]

i got a req!!

Jaime x reader stark ( twin sister of robb )

they already married. Just make it smut and the plot depend on you author. I just wanna read some smut 🤭🤭

Omg, my first request ☺️🙈

a wolf in lion’s clothing

no matter the loss, a daughter of the North is not defeated until she says so.

Pairing: Reader! Stark x Jaime Lannister

A/n: warnings of smut, teasing, somewhat dark!Jaime (c’mon, give him a break, he has lost a hand and we all hate Vargo Hoat). Reader is Robb’s twin, but I did not want to feast over the Red Wedding because my Northern little heart aches for it 😢, let’s say she knows they are gone but not the whole circumstances

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Damned be the day you left Winterfell.

Damned be the day you and Sansa were trapped by the Lannisters.

Damned be the day your future was sentenced by your brother’s enemy.

Damned be the day you were taken to Casterly Rock, far from anything you knew, and surrounded you by unknown faces.

Damned be the day that shining knight had been relieved of his position as a Kingsguard and pushed to assume the status of heir to the Westerlands.

Damned be the day you were forced to marry him.

Damned be the day you found that he is the least bad of all that wretched family.

Damned be the day he went to war and returned maimed, with all his pride taken of him.

It had taken you all of your strength to not fall apart when you have seen that man coming from captivity, and all the courage you did not knew you had to not die when you heard him say that he feared that you would have gone to The Twins.

“What keeps you that busy? I haven’t seen you since lunch” You say with a soft smile when you come into the library and find him focused over a pile of dusty parchments. He looks up, a mixture of surprise and relief washing over his face. Sometimes he still flinches when somebody catches him by surprise, you think it is because of his moons as a prisoner.

“Ah, Y/N,” he replies, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. “I've been trying to sort through these old records,” he explains, gesturing to the mess of papers before him.

“It is dark outside, my love. You should rest," you suggest gently, glancing toward the window where the last sliver of sunlight has vanished. “The past cannot be changed, but exhaustion won't aid in the future,” you continue, moving closer to his side, kissing his hair once you are next to your husband.

He sighs deeply, nodding as he leans into your comforting touch. Eyes closed, he murmurs, “I know you're right. I just can't shake the feeling that there's something I've overlooked within these pages.”

“It just surely can wait” your hand lays upon his shoulder, tracing the way to the other with care. “Your mind needs as much rest as your body,” you insist, urging him to set the parchments aside.

He hesitates for a moment, eyes lingering on the scattered documents, before finally conceding, turning to face you with a softness in his look you have not seen in ages. A loving smile tugs from the corners of your lips as the other hand goes to his cheek, soothing the worry etched there. “Come,” you coax gently, drawing him away from the desk, “you can revisit the mysteries of the past with a clearer mind tomorrow.”

With a hum he manages to tug you towards him, falling on his lap. He wraps his arms around you, resting his forehead against yours, taking a moment to breathe in the calmness you provide. “You always know how to bring peace to my mind,” he whispers, pressing a grateful kiss to your temple.

You bite your lower lip, a playful glint in your eyes. “It's a gift,” you reply with a soft laugh, snuggling closer to him, brushing his lips with yours, tempting. “Perhaps we should see what tomorrow brings,” you suggest, teasingly brushing your nose against his.

“Screw tomorrow” he tries to kiss you, only for you to lean back slightly, just out of reach, your eyes gleaming with mischief. He chuckles, recognizing your playful challenge, and gently pulls you back toward him with a quiet determination . “No escaping now,” he murmurs, capturing your lips this time, their warmth reminding you of the comfort and safety he has always offered you.

The kiss deepens, each moment a promise of shared dreams and unspoken futures. Unconsciously you make yourself comfortable on his lap, giving up to his wondering hand on your back. With a contented sigh, you melt into his embrace, letting the world outside momentarily fade away. Time stands still as the mingling rhythm of your hearts becomes the only sound. His fingers trace light patterns across your back, grounding you in this perfect moment.

You end the kiss only to trace with your lips his jawline, earning pleasured sighs as he tilts his head to leave you an unbroken expanse of skin to explore, which you gladly pamper, a deep part in your mind yelling at you that right now the only salvation you have is to make that man sire children with you.

A wanton moan escapes your lips as you feel the bulge pressing against you, a reminder of his desire matching your own. You quickly change your position, riding his lap, as your quick fingers start unbuttoning his doublet, your eyes clouded with lust.

“Y/N…” he whispers, almost a purr as your kisses go down to his collarbone while you teasingly rock your hips against him. A muffled moan escapes your lips when you feel his hand and the golden prothesis caress your thighs under your skirt. “My little she-wolf”

Your hands roam free to his hair, your fingers curling against it, ripping a soft moan from his lips, half muffled by yours when you press a needing kiss.

“What if somebody comes—?”

“They will see their future lord fucking his wife and putting a little lion inside her.” as you talk your fingers quickly go to his breeches, unlacing them, searching for the object of your desire. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful?” your hands reach his cock and free it, going up and down of it before driving it directly to your folds, making him discover what you have spend days doing —purposely leaving your undergarments aside to get him fuck you. “Wouldn’t my lord like little lions playing free along the Rock?” you purr to his ear, gladly earning a lustful groan, making it the signal to slowly go down his length, silently moaning as your wetness takes all his cock and your folds glide over it with little to no effort.

Your hips keep rocking over his lap, swallowing all of him in the process, as you let yourself go, free to enjoy a pleasure that can guarantee your safety.

What at the beginning had been just wanton moans with the only purpose to entice your husband turn to feel true, to really drive you helpless as you give up to any restrains you had towards the man who had pliantly followed instructions that had led to the disappearance of what you once dared to call ‘home’. With the golden hand by the lower part of your back, his left subtly goes to the lower part of your belly, his dexterous fingers adventuring the way towards your sweet spot, its tips teasing it, tearing pleasure sounds from your mouth.

It had been days since that shell of a man had started to show himself again, and even more days since the last time he made that easily a mess of you.

“Shh” almost entranced, you lean over him, your sweaty forehead against his, your eyes half-lidded as if the thirst for his touch had possessed your body “The whole castle may hear us.”

The subtle weight of the golden hand forcing you to go slower as your hips try to search his good hand with a hint of desperation to ease the sudden need.

“Jaime—“ you whine, breathless, one of your hands unconsciously returning to his hair “Please."

His lips twist into a crooked smile as you lay featherlight kisses along his jawline, panting.

He knows well how you Starks could behave, because he had seen it with his very eyes at King’s Landing and in the battlefield, and he knows that if he wishes for you to be the mother of proper Lannister children, he has to make sure that you will make a proper lady of the Rock.

“Who do you belong to?” he whispers to your ear before nibbling your earlobe, earning a moan in exchange. “Come on, be a good kitten and speak to me.”

Before you can even try to speak, his fingers retake their ministrations between your legs.

“Jaime—“ you close your eyes in delight.

“Come on, sweet girl.”

It is hard to properly think when you are so close to the edge.

“Yours” you pant, helplessly realizing how tables have turned.

“Such a good girl” he nuzzles against your neck as you try your best to hump against him, perky breasts brushing against his chest from behind the fabric of your dress. “You want to give me heirs, don’t you?” you nod, mewling, half eager, half desperate.

You know too well that you can only survive if you become the mother of any heir to the Rock, and yet you cannot help but find it enticing any time that man does his best to carefully push you to an extreme, even if he tries to make you realize you have left all behind.

“Y/N” he sighs, his lips finding yours as you eagerly kiss him, finding that he is no longer making you stay still, but encouraging you to keep going as his fingers retake their speed in their teasing.

Finally the tingling feeling at your core takes over you and you find yourself muffling your moans against his lips as he releases himself inside you with the clenching of your folds, claiming you as his.

But you don’t care. You were made to endure.

You are a daughter of the North.

And the North never forgets.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#Boltons have transformed Winterfell into Harrenhal (via @laurellerual)

"It is Arya of House Stark who chews on her lip whenever she is thinking. Are you Arya of House Stark?" - Cat of the Canals, AFFC

She bit her lip. "You may not recall, my lord, as I was littler then . . . but I had the honor to meet you at Winterfell when King Robert came to visit my father Lord Eddard." She lowered her big brown eyes and mumbled, "I'm Arya Stark." - Jaime IX, ASOS

"It won't be no beating, oh, no. I won't lay a finger on you. I'll just save you for the Qohorik, yes I will, I'll save you for the Crippler. Vargo Hoat his name is, and when he gets back he'll cut off your feet."  - Arya VIII, ACOK

"Tell him, you tell him. I'll do what he wants … whatever he wants … with him or … or with the dog or … please … he doesn't need to cut my feet off, I won't try to run away, not ever, I'll give him sons, I swear it, I swear it …" - Theon, ADWD

The direwolf was the sigil of the Starks, but Arya felt more a lamb, surrounded by a herd of other sheep. She hated the villagers for their sheepishness, almost as much as she hated herself. - Arya VI, ACOK

It was the girl who held them here, Lord Eddard's blood, but the girl was just a mummer's ploy, a lamb in a direwolf's skin.  - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

'Why did you make your people lambs, when the world is full of wolves?' - Barristan I, TWOW