#verse. [ a game of thrones ]

[kentstoji]

yandere rhaegar targaryen who grew up shrouded in a blanket of melancholy, akin to the trauma from the great fire of summerhall, a tragedy that marked his birth. his mind remained consistently immersed in fantasy clouds. an attempt to distance himself from the demons haunting house targaryen.

he developed an appreciation for songs and literature. and so, the prophecies were presented to him.

his imaginative mind created scenarios based on the words that led aegon iv to perdition. and when he met you — the only daughter of jon arryn that come of age without succumbing to illness — his obsession with completing the song of ice and fire intensified.

you, on the other hand, only harbored the ambition to take care of your father and ensure the stability of house arryn.

[kezcope]

First post on tumblr!! I thought it would be fitting if the first thing I posted would be some fanart of one of my favorite characters from @not-poignant fae tales verse. Augus Each Uisge is such an enjoyable character to read and I’ll definitely be drawing him again.

[starcrossedjedis]

Myranda Redwyne & Rodrik Umber in “Northern Lights” [HotD OCxOC] - because she's a proper story now x'D

"I ruined your life. You have every right to hate me." - "My life would be infinitely easier if I did..." - "And yet?" - "And yet..."

Having grown up as a ward to the Hightowers in Oldtown, Myranda Redwyne is sent to King’s Landing as a companion to Otto Hightower’s daughter Alicent.

She spends her first years in the Red Keep as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Aemma.

When the queen dies in childbirth, it deeply wounds the young woman - so much so that she vows to never marry. Even before the queen's death, Myra had found herself bored with the men of the capitol - finding they are either immature, spoiled boys or disgusting, leering old men - but after witnessing Aemma Targaryen bleed out in childbed, she vows never to go through such hell for the sake of a man's legacy.

So she spends her days - now serving the newly named heir to the Iron Throne, the Princess Rhaenyra - tending to her budding reputation as a spinster-in-waiting.

But things change when King Viserys states his intent to wed Alicent. Myra doesn't know if his daughter's impending wedding gave the widowed Otto Hightower ideas or if the Hand of the King is simply looking for someone to take care of him with Alicent bound otherwise, but suddenly her guardian seems to be looking at her differently.

Then, just a few days before Alicent is to be wed to the king, Myra receives a letter from her family that confirms her worst fear - she is to marry Otto Hightower.

Trapped in King's Landing and forced to play along as the court engages in a lavish tourney to celebrate the royal wedding, Myra finds herself in a whirlwind of despair, drinking and irresponsible decisions which ultimately gets her caught in a very compromising situation with a young lord from the North.

Hoping her 'ruin' will dissuade Otto Hightower from marrying her, Myra spins this heated yet brief encounter into a scandalous tale, not thinking about the consequences this might have for her. Or for the young man who suddenly faces accusations of defiling the Hand's future wife.

But never - not even in her wildest dreams - would Myra have imagined that this desperate and yes, stupid ploy would see her as the Lady of Last Hearth, caught in a sham marriage with a man widely rumoured to be half wildling.

A man, she is fairly certain, despises her...

Tagged: @darkwolf76 @drbobbimorse @emilykaldwen @kingsmakers @margoshansons @thatmagickjuju

@akabluekat @arrthurpendragon @asirensrage @astarionbae @auxiliarydetective @bibaybe @bisexualterror @bravelittleflower @cas-verse @chickensarentcheap @curious-kittens-ocs @darknightfrombeyond @daughter-of-melpomene @eddiemunscns @foxesandmagic @fyeahgotocs @harleyquinnzelz @if-you-onlyknew @jamezvaldes @jewishbarbies @katiekinswrites @koiwrites @mabonetsamhain @mystic-scripture @oneirataxia-girl @susiesamurai @stachedocs

[got-gendrya]

Something I think about a lot and I mean A LOT is if Arya was also a ballerina while she was in Braavos. Ik it’s not “historically accurate” because ballet wasn’t created until the 1500s in Italy but Braavos is inspired by Venice and it would just go so well with her storyline!

Ballet would be good training for anyone in the House of Black and White because you learn to be a good actor, you learn to be more graceful, make essentially no noise when landing from leaps with hard shoes, and it works out a lot of muscles you can’t get to with most exercises.

Arya has a water motif throughout all of the books. Could you imagine if she was a part of performing Swan Lake?! I’m not saying she would be Odette (white swan) or Odile (black swan) because she would need years of experience for those roles. But Arya has always felt she was an ugly duckling and dancing as a graceful swan, especially if it was right before her leaving Braavos, would symbolize her self-transformation and growth.

[straynoahide]

Karliene - Song of the Seven (english and spanish subs)

The Father's face is stern and strong, he sits and judges right from wrong. He weighs our lives, the short and long, and loves the little children.

The Mother gives the gift of life, and watches over every wife. Her gentle smile ends all strife, and she loves her little children.

The Warrior stands before the foe, protecting us where e'er we go. With sword and shield and spear and bow, he guards the little children.

The Crone is very wise and old, and sees our fates as they unfold. She lifts her lamp of shining gold to lead the little children.

The Smith, he labors day and night, to put the world of men to right. With hammer, plow, and fire bright, he builds for little children.

The Maiden dances through the sky, she lives in every lover's sigh. Her smiles teach the birds to fly, and gives dreams to little children.

The Seven Gods who made us all, are listening if we should call. So close your eyes, you shall not fall, they see you, little children. Just close your eyes, you shall not fall, they see you, little children.

[crazyaboutto]

This man is determined to write anything but Winds of Winter and a Dream of Spring 😩😫

[not-poignant]

Birthday Spotlight - Gulvi Dubna Vajat

[24th March - Aries]

Gulvi Dubna Vajat, the chaos-loving, determined, vicious killer and loving sister is the Unseelie swan maiden from the canon Fae Tales series. She's the lover of Fenwrel the Mouse Maiden, younger sister of Julvia Dubna Vajat, and bucks all the standards when she chose to become the first swan maiden to turn her back against the pacifistic ways of her kind so she could train with the Council of Lammergeiers and become a highly reputable and successful assassin who ended up working for the Raven Prince, in line to be the next Queen of the Unseelie Court.

Despite Gulvi's sometimes abrasive ways, she's always been well-liked among many readers. She's a staunch supporter of Gwyn's, a best friend to Ash, and for a time, Augus' declared enemy. She spent a few chapters just stabbing him to get revenge, because, well, he did kill almost her entire family.

Gulvi is a fantastic advice-giver, lives her own life, and is well-equipped to be Queen-in-waiting and Unseelie Queen. One day she'll take the throne for herself, and Gwyn is more than aware of it and more than happy for it to happen. Even if she did get him drunk all those separate times...

‘Make no mistake, you are lucky that I am friends with both Gwyn and Ash, for nothing would please me better than to come at you through your loved ones. Think about that, for a minute. I like that this hurts you. And if I didn’t think I’d be hurting this Court, and myself in the process, I would let Gwyn be executed by the Seelie Court in an instant just to watch you make more of these delicious, frightened expressions of yours. I can smell your fear, you horrid, mess of a fae, and I revel in it. You have not Ash’s sympathy, nor his support in this. And you do not have mine.'

~ Game Theory

From the Darkness We Rise - (fanfiction) Gulvi first appeared as an OC in this fanfiction in her swan maiden form, as an informant to Gwyn ap Nudd, even then an effective assassin who used French affectations in her speech and rubbed Jack Frost the wrong way every time she opened her mouth.

The Court of Five Thrones - Gulvi came through for Gwyn ap Nudd when Augus died (temporarily), offering him sage advice and getting him drunk. She's sent to assassinate many of Gwyn's enemies in order to manipulate people into giving Gwyn what he wants as King, she falls in love with Fenwrel, and pulls the heavy duty of serving as Queen-in-Waiting, all while nursing her fragile, near-death's-door older sister, who is stuck in swan form due to Augus' actions when he was once a villain.

Into Shadows We Fall - (fanfiction) Notable for appearing as Ash's best friend and Gwyn's ally, but she makes Jack too furious and he attempts to murder her, and in return, she stabs him with one of the best verbal repartees. It is her actions which serve as the turning point for Jack and Pitch, as she inadvertently severs a very important scarf in the process...

Game Theory - Drugging Ash, giving Gwyn advice even though they're on opposite sides, and stabbing Augus repeatedly while calling him a donkey are just all in a day's work for this graceful, ruthless, and surprisingly mature swan maiden.

Unwound - An interstitial between The Court of Five Thrones and The Ice Plague, this series explores Gwyn's occasional melancholy due to well...all the burdens he carries. Once more, Gulvi proves herself to be a staunch and true friend.

The Ice Plague I: The Forest of Fire - When Gwyn and Augus leave the Unseelie Court, Gulvi steps into her role as Queen-in-Waiting, but not before trying to forbid her sister Julvia from going on a grand quest (she fails, much to her anger).

The Ice Plague III: The Ice Plague - Gulvi has been working in the background throughout as Queen-in-Waiting with Fenwrel by her side, but we finally get to see her again, which comes as a profound relief for our ensemble team.

All That We Were, All That We Will Ever Be - In the final epilogue of Augus and Gwyn, in the Fae Tales canon, Gulvi is there watching vigil over a certain someone, even as she works a truly overwhelming job.

The Spoils of the Spoiled - High school student, girlfriend of Kayla (Gulvi is so incredibly lesbian), bitchy frenemy of Augus Each Uisge, best friend of Ash, and eventual friend of Gwyn ap Nudd. Gulvi is the one who suggests the detached apartment at the back of her house to Augus and Ash, giving them a place to live when they become homeless. She comforts Augus after he's molested by Efnisien, and she offers charming, funny, and sometimes caustic commentary throughout.

The Day the Ferris Wheel Came Down - High school student and best friend of Ash, Gulvi is up to her chaos-loving antics in this short oneshot!

The Best of Broken Resolutions - In one of my favourite AUs, Gulvi is a high-powered architect working with Gwyn ap Nudd who bitches out their work colleagues, judges all their outfits, and is immaculately fashionable. She's in a workplace relationship with Fenwrel, which isn't nearly the well-kept secret it should be.

Tumblr Prompts - Fae Tales - Anyone who asks me about whether I'll ever write any F/F should go here for a little kissing between Fenwrel and Gulvi in Basorexia.

With chaos as her heartsong in the Fae Tales canon, Gulvi embraces the chance to introduce a little unpredictability into the lives around her.

Despite this, Gulvi still has her swan-maiden roots, she is a loving, family-oriented, loyal friend and lover who just wants to have a good time in life.

A swan maiden who was raised a pacifist and then proved that her turning away from peace-loving ways wasn't 'just a phase' when she became one of the most notorious Unseelie assassins in the fae realm.

Any excuse to drink - which makes her a good friend for Ash

Protective of those around her. Once you are taken under her wing, she will fight tooth and nail for you, and sometimes against you, if you're your own worst enemy.

White wings, white hair, black eyes, and uses two kris daggers. She almost always is seen solely in hybrid form, never human or true form.

Helping Gwyn to get through the hard times with hard liquor and sisterly advice

Any time she insulted Augus, while Augus was powerless to retaliate

Saying 'La!' as a form of punctuation

Swearing

Despite her sometimes casual-seeming, party-loving nature, she possessed a courtier's tongue, holding her own against Albion at the end of Game Theory, and bringing both Augus and Gwyn to their senses multiple times.

Always loves an element of chaos in her life, though it's more muted when she's in human AUs, especially once she's in love.

Lesbian for life

Graceful and beautiful, and does not suffer fools

Gulvi is all about family whether she wants to be or not - chosen family and blood family

Will always find Julvia incredibly annoying and condescending while loving her fiercely

Tends to think of Augus as a bit of an idiot, all the way from 'too stupid to live' in Game Theory to 'I still love you though' in The Spoils of the Spoiled

I've always really loved swan maidens, after meeting them in The Bitterbynde Trilogy by Cecilia Dart-Thornton. I came up with a whole scaffolding of background for these beings, and still feel very fondly towards swan maidens so I'm not entirely surprised that when Gulvi was no longer a significant character in The Ice Plague because she was holding up the fort, Julvia became a significant character instead.

People always used to ask me if I shipped her and Ash, but Gulvi's love for Ash was never quite 'that' kind of love, even though she gave her heart to him. I always loved the idea of two best friends so bound together that the friendship would last an eternity.

Gulvi has tattoos of symbols on her arms from the Council of Lammergeiers as part of her initiation but I always forget she has them, so this is one of her biggest continuity errors in that I just don't mention them enough so we ALL forget.

I always like to imagine that Gulvi and the Raven Prince are actually extremely close, and we never see it because it's private - a friendship between two bird shifters.

Gulvi is from the fae side of Latvia - she's not French! She just picked up an affectation from the human realm because she liked it.

The reasons I gave my heart to him weren’t as clear as they should have been. They couldn’t be. They never are! Swans think they have such pure hearts, but… Ash is worthy, make no mistake, but I never wanted to be with him. Even as I gave him my heart, without his consent I might add, because he would have refused it – I knew I didn’t want to be with him. I didn’t want him to fuck me, I didn’t want to lie on a bed with him beyond collapsing together on a bed with marshmallows and fried foods while watching silly human movies about very profound things. He has always been a gentleman about it, even as I took something from the both of us the moment I staked him with the permanency of my love. But, Gwyn, I’ve never wanted to be with anyone. Ash gives me all of himself in our friendship. His love is a whole thing. He has such an abundance of it. It spills everywhere. It makes him do and say stupid things. It makes him wiser than he should be. He loves love. Whether it makes him a fool or seer. And me, with my cynical heart, I needed his idealism, his romanticism, all of it. He gives me something I have never been able to give myself. And he has enough of it – so much – that he can give it freely and I never have to worry about depleting him of anything. You see? Everyone thinks it’s unrequited. But that implies that it is one-sided, and it is not. They say unrequited love is not returned in kind, but he returns it. And they act as though I accidentally tripped over his feet, looked up, and fell in love with the stupid idiot he can be. But I did not. I made a conscious declaration to myself, to the world.

~ The Court of Five Thrones

[daenerysdynasty]

missing a fictional character so bad as if they’re real is a different type of pain.

[writingwenches]

Trapped at work and can’t stop thinking about an AU where Rhaenyra’s strong boys are acknowledged bastards. Nothing else changes. Laenor still loves them, Laenor still dies so Daemon and Rhaenyra can marry. Jace and Luke are still engaged to Baela and Rhaena to strengthen their claims.

Love the idea of Rhaenyra “forcing” her father to legitimize them (so many ways that could play out), or legitimizing them as soon as he dies as the new monarch.

Love the parallel to Alicent crowning Aegon when he wasn’t interested, legitimizing Jace and forcing him to defend a title he wasn’t prepared for

Just loving this AU right now

[keepingupwiththeboltons]

Hey i literally havent seen anyone say this but is sharako lohar our first trans character in got/hotd???

[kentstoji]

I like to believe (as does a large portion of the fandom) that Robert only had that "love" for Lyanna because she was a female version of Ned. With that in mind (and considering that Jon Arryn was the most important male figure in Ned's life), how would Robert behave himself with a daughter of Jon Arryn?

So yes! This is the return of Jon Arryn's daughter on this blog. I already mentioned that Rhaegar would be obsessed with her, merely motivated by the idea of ​​completing a prophecy.

I think Robert would see her as his first love. And perhaps, his last because she has a tendency to keep him in line.

She, despite having a sense of honor, would not be afraid to expose her claws and a sharp tongue, "So, you got a woman pregnant? You're lucky I won't make you marry her."

However, she forced him to take care of Mya.

"Don't be an cretin, Robert" Her eyes flickered with clear menace. "Go visit the girl and see if her mother will need anything."

(Jon learned that the best thing he could do was let his heiress rule. Otherwise, he himself was the target of severe criticism.)

And with that, we have Rhaegar Targaryen. Heir of the Seven Kingdoms, creating expectations and being miserably frustrated when he realized that the pleasant maiden of his delusions was a rigid and calculating woman.

[xotherwcrldsx]

@elliehallers I got the House Sigil for House Ray in the royal au! Thought it was fitting—the dark red and yellows of their House, Ray stemming from the sun (rays of the Sun) and the sword representing the resilient, fighting spirit of their House as well (the irony of that being that Peter didn't have that spirit per se and was thus easily killed 👀)

[sinofwriting]

A Bastard - Theon Greyjoy (Part One)

Words: 7,203 Summary: She had to do this as much as she dreaded and hated it. But she would never forgive herself if something happened to him, her kraken on land.

Note(s): Thank you so much @nyctophilic0vitnir this fic would have never happened without you sending me a request for Daemon and I can't thank you enough for looking this over for me and all your suggestions.

Masterlist | Support Me!

She could feel her hands shaking, fingers stiff as she kept on attempting to do her embroidery, but her mind was racing, stomach filled with dread. She hissed as the needle slips and pokes at her, drawing blood. Setting her embroidery down, she lifts her finger to her mouth, sucking at the spot where blood was rising for just a second. Standing, she smoothes her dress, before exiting her chambers. She had seeked solitude, but mayhaps she was in need of distraction.

She smiled as a half naked Rickon came barrelling down the halls and she could hear Lady Stark's exasperation, she quickly scoops the tiny boy up.

"What do I have here?" She gasps, purposely making her voice loud so Lady Stark can hear her and know that she has the whelp in her care. "Why, I think it's a wolf." "Wolf." He parrots back to her, grinning up at her and she can't help but return it.

Turning the corner, she smiles at Lady Stark, who is looking at her youngest with disapproval.

"Rickon Stark. You need a bath." "No!" He shouts, nearly deafening her ear. "It's alright, Lady Stark, I can give him a bath. Right Rickon?" He nods.

The older woman sighs, but nods. "I hope he'll behave for you. I nearly went to get Robb." "He'll be fine." She tells the woman, before moving inside of the room that Lady Stark normally gave Rickon bathes in.

As she carefully cleans the boy, her mind wanders. Wanders to Theon, to their babe that rests in her belly. It wanders to what she will have to do. For Lord and Lady Stark were kind and fair people for letting her stay with them for so long.

A fostering that had gone long when her parents died, but they wouldn't let her stay once they learned of her being with child.

And Theon, poor Theon. She feared often that he would be killed due to something his father did, but with this, she now feared that Lord Stark would kill him if he found out that he had fathered a child, a bastard, with a girl that was under his protection, his care.

Drying off the boy that's starting to fall asleep, she thinks of the letter that she had received from her uncle, her father's brother, a man she had never met. Offering for her to come home, to meet her father's family. She knew little of them. Her father had left Dorne when he was four and ten name days, and had only returned once, after meeting her mother to introduce her to his family before returning to what he had made his home.

She ached at the thought of her parents, at the little memories she had of them, having joined the Stark household when she was one and ten and now she was eight and ten. Scooping the boy up, she carefully makes her way to the nursery, setting him in his bed and covering him with furs before retreating back to her chambers.

She knew little of her father's family and little of Dorne, but what she did know was that bastards weren't treated like a shame there. Her jaw twitched at the reminder of Lady Stark's treatment to Jon. Her uncle himself in his letter told her of the eight daughters he had, all with the name Sand, the name bastards carried in Dorne.

It would not be shameful for her to have a bastard, her family would welcome her and her child. It's with that knowledge, that she begins to write a letter accepting his offer and telling him that she should arrive there within a moon or two's time, planning on leaving shortly after sending off her letter.

It would be costly to go to Dorne and she would need at least one guard, but she had more than enough coin to afford it. She had been given a sizable amount when her parents had died and she had earned more through carvings she did.

Rolling up her parchment, she moves from her chambers to Maester Luwin's room of sorts, knowing that his helper who mainly deals with the ravens will be there. Handing it to him, she offers a smile to the Maester before leaving to Lady Stark's solar, hoping that she will be there.

Knocking on the door, she waits to hear her say enter, before opening the door. "Lady Stark, I was hoping to have a meeting with yourself and Lord Stark." Her eyebrows furrow, eyes glancing down at the papers scattered on her desk, before nodding. "He's looking over some letters from his bannerman, no better time to talk to us than now." She tells her, standing. She offers the woman a nod of her head, before following her as she practically sweeps out of her solar and to her husband's.

Moments later, she carefully sits in front of the Starks. Lord Stark sitting while his wife stands beside him.

"I can never repay you for the kindness you've given me by letting me stay with your family." Lord Stark's frown deepens at her words. "Is everything alright?" "Of course, my lord. As you know I received a letter from my father's family just a couple of days ago. They asked if I'd like to go to what was my father's home, to stay with them, and get to know my kin."

He hums and she keeps her eyes on his face and not the distressed Lady Stark's.

"They are your family, your blood and kin. I suppose you want to go?" "Yes, my lord. I have loved my time at Winterfell, but I think it's time for me to go home. To go to Dorne." The words leave something akin to ash in her mouth. She had never been to Dorne, but she knew that she needed to call it home, for it would be home soon enough.

"I ask not for coin to get there, but only your helping in procuring a guard on my journey there. I will pay for their services myself, both the journey there and back." He makes another hum. "I can get you a guard, but I will pay for their services. For until you are in Dorne, you are still under my care and protection."

"Ned," Lady Stark hisses, but he pays her no mind.

"When will you leave?" "I hope in a few days time. I have already sent a letter back saying that I'd be leaving soon." "You are eager." He notes. "I am my lord." "I can't stop you, but just know that you will always be welcomed at Winterfell no matter what." "Thank you." She murmurs, standing as he waves a hand to dismiss her. "I'll have someone to be your guard by supper, you will leave in two days time." She nods, another murmur of thanks leaving her before she leaves the solar.

Relief and dread war within her at Lord Stark's easy acceptance of her wanting to leave. And she's ashamed that most of her dread is only because it means leaving Theon.

She loved the Starks and Winterfell. She'd miss the wildness of Arya, Jon's solemness, and Old Nan's stories, but she would miss Theon most of all. She'd miss his stories from home, about his sisters and mother.

The tales from the Ironborn. About the drowned god that he still thought of as his. And his japes that nearly went too far, especially with little Arya, but he always cared to make sure he never made her cry. And she knew that it was him teaching her archery. He was the best in the North, possibly all of Westeros, with a bow. She felt a pang in her heart as realized what she'd be depriving him and their babe of.

It made supper rough as she avoided his eyes and told the Stark children that she'd be leaving in two days. Robb had tried to deny it, Sansa had immediately teared up, and poor little Bran had thrown himself into her arms, soaking her dress with his tears as Arya also attached herself to her, telling her that she wasn't allowed to leave.

Jon had stayed silent but she could see the stricken look on his face at her news. Theon had attempted to ask her what she meant, but she ignored him, using the excuse of soothing Bran, who was surely crying himself dry.

"I received a letter from my father's brother, asking if I'd like to come home. I accepted, I've always wanted to know my father's family, and even as a babe I never met them." She tells them a certain truth in the words.

None of them like it, Arya especially, but a look from their father stills their tongues.

She doesn't however know why - as the castle goes quiet - that she's surprised when Theon slips into her chambers. Her whispered hiss of his name doesn't earn her that cocky grin that it always has.

Instead, he looks at her with pain, a strange solemn look on his face, one that fits Jon much better.

"You never told me you got a letter."

She winces at his words. She hadn't even planned on replying to the letter, at least not this soon. But she had missed her last two moon's blood and her breasts were a bit more sensitive and swollen, something Theon had noticed and enjoyed.

And sure enough, when she snuck away early in the morning to visit the midwife that lived in Wintertown, she confirmed her suspicions and fears, she was with child. And suddenly that letter had become her solution.

"I hadn't thought of it much." Half truths always made better lies. "Just like you didn't think to tell me that you're leaving? You've never spoken of wanting to go to Dorne." "No, but I have of wanting to know more about my father, his family, where he was born. I know only the little of Dorne that has been told to the both of us when learning. That is it. You are lucky enough to know the history of the Iron Islands, your family, the tales that have been around longer than we can imagine. I know none of that. You know who is your uncle, cousin, aunt, because you met them, you have seen their faces, however long ago it was. I have never met anyone in my family. My father married my mother, a ward, who had no family, and now I have the chance to meet family, be with them. Tell me you wouldn't do the same?"

He looks away from her, unable to deny it. She sighs, moving to him and taking his face between her palms, looking in his eyes.

"It's not that I wanted to hurt you, I just feared your reaction. Not because you would ever harm me," she quickly says, seeing his stricken face. "But because of your hurt, your pain. I never wanted to be the source of that." Something softens in him at her words, she can see it in his eyes and the line of his shoulders.

"I wish I could come with you."

She aches at those words, because she too wished it. She wished more that they could marry in the Godswood, could stay with the Starks as they had their babe. But she would even love it if Theon could come with her, could join her in Dorne.

The ache nearly makes her tell him, nearly makes her grab his hand and place where she would one day swell with his child, but she's reminded that for all their kindness, Theon is hostage here at Winterfell with the Starks.

They may treat him well and close to a child of their own, but he is a hostage who needs to be careful of what they do. That knowledge makes her keep her mouth quiet. She wanted him to know, but it would most likely cost him his life if not their babe's.

When she wakes early the next morning and sits where the boys spar, she's not surprised when Jon and Ghost join her, the latter climbing into her lap, still just small enough to do so, but she imagined that soon he'd be too large to fit in any lap.

"It won't be the same here."

She turns to look at him, "I will miss you, Jon. You truly are a brother to me."

And he was. She loved the Stark children, but Jon held a special place in her heart, her little brother though not by bond or blood.

He ducks his head at her words, "As you are a sister to me." She smiles, leaning her head to briefly rest on his shoulder.

"I'll miss you, Jon Snow. You'll have to write to me. More than once a moon." She insists, but he doesn't say anything, suddenly looking nervous, and Ghost gives a small whine. "I actually wanted to ask to go with you." Her jaw drops slightly.

"To be your sworn shield. You'll have the title of Princess there, and even if you didn't you'd be on the other side of Westeros, a place where you've never been with people you don't know. I'd like to protect you, to be there for you."

"Jon," she starts, wanting to accept her offer, no matter how selfish it would to accept it, just so she could have someone she knew with her, her brother with her, but she knows of his want to join the night's watch, to be at the wall, though a good measure of that desire is because he is not a trueborn son.

"I can't. You've wanted to go to the wall and to be part of the Night's Watch for so long now. And Lord Stark," she shakes her head. "He already doesn't want you to leave and go all that way to the wall. You think he'd let you go with me to Dorne? And what about Robb, Arya, and Bran? Little Rickon? They'd miss their brother."

"They'll miss you." "They will and I'll miss them." "So you'll let me?" "Jon," she sighs, but suddenly he's standing, a sword at his hip that she hadn't noticed before and then he's unsheathing the sword and carefully kneeling in front of her with the sword in his hands. Ghost leaps off her lap, sitting beside his master, as if he's trying to copy Jon.

"I offer my protection, Lady and soon to be Princess Martell. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I will keep your secrets as my own. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

Her eyes are wide and she should urge him to get up, to not offer such a thing. But if she couldn't have Theon with her, maybe she could have her brother.

"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise."

He does with a stunned look and his hands shake as he sheathed his sword and she rises with him, quickly taking him into her arms.

"You are my sworn shield now, little brother. Shall we never be parted and you never in harm's way be put." "Aye," his voice is thick.

"I thought you'd say no, tell me off, or go to Lord Stark." She squeezes him tight before stepping away. "I'm afraid for Lord Stark that I'm too selfish and I wanted a comfort from the home I've known for so long to my new one. You are lucky, however, that it will be Lord Stark you answer to and that honor is important to him as are oaths. It is only because of that, that the oath we just made will not be broken by his word." "Aye." He agrees.

With his new oath in mind, she returns to her chambers and quickly starts to embroider a sunspear with the color of Snows and a few spots of yellow thread, signaling his status as her sworn shield with this cloak.

She had intended to give it to Arya, in an effort to help make her actually stay in her lessons with her gone. Hoping that her words of someone needing to provide Jon with a cloak and other clothes would stay her a little bit, but it was far too important for Jon to have this cloak now.

She vows to instead talk to Theon, to strike a deal between him and Arya, where he will continue to teach her archery and even some swordplay as long as she attends her lessons.

She manages to finish just before breakfast begins, quickly giving it to Jon and ushering him to put it on as they make their way to the hall. Slipping into the hall, she makes sure to stand tall, chin out slightly. It wouldn't due to seem ashamed of her decision.

Lord Stark ends up taking it better than she had thought. He even looks relieved when Jon repeats his vow. Lady Stark's mouth is pinched, but there's a looseness to her shoulders. She had been trying to get Jon away from Winterfell for years now, since before she had even arrived, if servants were to be believed.

Arya is upset, blaming her mother for her favorite sibling's departure. Robb is also upset, but he's quiet after Lord Stark tells him that he can't accompany them on their journey to Dorne.

Sansa looks relieved, while Bran looks excited, making Jon repeat his vow over and over, knowing that it's close to a knight's oath.

Theon, though, her Kraken on land, his reaction sends a pang to her heart and tears to her eyes. His anguish and hurt that he had shown before wiping it clear and nudging Robb, trying to distract him from his upset.

It makes her want to reach out to him, to hold his hand in hers, makes her want to reach down and cup the soon to be growing swell of her belly. She wants to explain why she said yes, even though she doesn't have too.

In her chambers later in the day with only candle light to help her as she finishes packing, she doesn't startle at the sound of the door opening nor at the arms that wrap themselves around her middle though it does make her stiffen and she's happy that Theon just registers it as surprise, murmuring an "It's me" in her ear.

"I will miss you." She sighs. He presses a kiss to the shell of her ear. "I will miss you as well."

"Will you write me?" The question leaves her lips before she can think and embarrassment fills her.

"I'm sorry," she begins to apologize, but before she can continue, Theon's turning her around, so they're facing each other, his brow furrowed. "Of course, I'll write you. You must know that I'm fond of you, my lady." "I do." She had never doubted that.

"I just, I know that your correspondence is always read before and I would understand if you didn't want anyone to know that you were fond of me." She rests her hand on his chest.

"I would hate for you to be punished because of me." "I will take any and every punishment if it means I can write to you." He swears and she can't stop the tears that spill from her eyes. "Careful," she warns, ignoring his concern for her tears. "You sound as if you want me as a salt wife." "I'd have you as my only wife." His words have her freezing, the ache in her heart turning to a stabbing pain.

"You can't mean that." She whispers. "Of course I mean it." He scoffs. "Theon, I'm leaving in the morning, you can not tell me that you wish to wed me." "But I do. I do wish to wed you! I would have asked for your hand on your six and ten name day if I could. Make no mistake in thinking that I didn't like sneaking into your chambers in the dead of night and sneaking kisses in the godswood when no one is around, but I will always regret that I could not court you. I wish to marry you, I have since before we first kissed."

His words make her weak, her head spins and her stomach turns. She had thought him fond of her, liking her, but figured that he'd go back to the brothels when she left, much like he did before she turned six and ten.

But he wanted to marry her, something she had thought only she wanted. And more than that, she could feel blood rush to her cheeks, he had wanted to court her, properly court her.

Theon Greyjoy, a nasty boy, who teased Sansa about loving the idea of knights and princesses and true love, had wanted to court her. She wished not for the first time and not for the last that he was just being fostered with the Starks and not a hostage due to his father's actions.

A man who as he had grown older and never heard from, wanted to be the opposite of. He wanted a ship, yes, and to live by the sea, but he didn't want salt wives and more children than he could name.

"I wish for all that too." She hesitates, but lifts her hand to cup his face. "I wish you could come with me. Dorne, I think they would treat you well." "I just want it to treat you well." "Write me, often. And," she pauses, heart aching, but she couldn't ask him to stay true to her, not when she wasn't telling him the real reason for her leaving. Not when now she knew that he would insist on joining her, insist on her hand, and for his insistence, he'd lose his head.

"When I leave, I'd like you to seek out others for pleasure." "What?" "Theon," she pleads. "It is because I love you, that I ask you of this, though it pains me." Tears slip down her face. "We may never see each other again, or it could be many moons. I would not want you to stop seeking pleasure from someone else just because of me." "And if I only want you?" She closes her eyes, "I can not make you do anything. I just ask that if you feel the urge that you don't feel like you've forsaken me by acting on it." "I don't know if I could ever feel want for another woman after lying with you, for I haven't since." "Theon," "I'm telling you the truth, my Lady, that is all." She nods, but doesn't say anything else, exhaustion weighing heavy on her mind and body.

He must see it, because he quickly ushers her into bed and under the covers, not paying attention to her protests of needing to finish packing. He just throws her a look and then does it for her.

And she watches him with heavy eyes, as he goes around her room and makes sure all of her things are packed away. He then latches her trunk before joining her in the bed, ushering her into his arms, and she should protest, but he radiates warmth and she wants one more night of being held by the man she loves.

—

The memory of Theon holding her close and his words of wanting her for more than just the space between her thighs, tempers her through the journey to Dorne.

Her guard's scoffing, his muttered words of "Bastard" to Jon, his fearful looks to Ghost, and his lustful looks to her, finally prove too much as they get to only a few more days of riding to Dorne.

Snapping at him to leave and tossing him a bag of coin, unwilling to hear him call Jon a bastard again. He tries to protest, but a look to Jon has him pulling his sword and the guard leaves, pushing his horse fast.

"Was that a wise decision?" Jon asks, sheathing his sword and pointing for Ghost to sit, as soon as they can no longer hear the sound of his horses hooves. "If I had to hear him call you a bastard again, I would have taken your sword and killed him myself." Jon's eyes go wide at her words and he gives a nod. "Understood, my lady."

She wrinkles her nose at the address, but before she can say anything, she feels her stomach turn, and she pushes away from her horse she was just about to mount again, getting sick in the bushes.

As she heaves, she feels Jon gently rub her back.

"We should find a maester. You are not well." She shakes her head, standing straight and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I am fine." "You are sick." He insists. "I am fine." She repeats, turning to face him. She then lets herself finally place a hand on her stomach, where she has started to swell.

"I'm with child, Jon. It disagrees with travel." His eyes are wide and they flicker between her face and where her hand rests.

"With child?" "Yes." "But," he blinks. "That's why you wanted to leave." She swallows roughly, but nods. "Yes." "You never said." "I wanted to sooner, but I didn't trust the guard that Lord Stark sent with us." "But you are well?" She smiles at him, fondness striking her for his concern over her.

"I am. I will need to see a midwife when we get to Dorne, but I am well." "Why not a maester?" "I trust a midwife more. They usually themselves have had a child. Though, if my uncle isn't opposed and he is the one to meet us, I will ask him if he'd be willing to check me. According to rumors, he trained to be a maester."

"The red viper?" "It would make sense for him to have some sort of training if he's as good with poisons as stories are to be believed." "You would trust the red viper to check on you?" "He is family. And Dorne doesn't hurt children, even while still in the womb."

Her words still his tongue, but as they cross into Dorne and reach Sandstone, they are quickly approached by a man and his guard, and she can see his hand on the pommel of his sword, Ghost tenses by her side, following Jon's orders to protect her.

Lowering into a curtsey, she keeps it a bit longer than she's ever had.

"Prince Oberyn," Jon lets out a little breath, and she can see from the corner of her eye his knuckles turning white as his grip on his sword tightens, but he too bows.

"I thank you for your invitation and hospitality. This is my sworn shield and a man I'm honored to call my brother, Jon Snow." She stops curtseying, but keeps her head tilted down, not willing to believe that just because she was family meant she could get away with disrespect.

She hears him chuckle, a nice sound that has her shoulders relaxing.

"You are much like your mother." He steps closer, using a finger to raise her head so they are looking eye to eye. "But there is much of your father in you." Those words are quiet, solemn and she can't help but reach up and gently squeeze his wrist. "He talked fondly of you, Prince Oberyn, my father. Called you a rascal, but you were his favorite brother." He smiles at her, "I would love to hear you tell that to Doran. He'd refuse to believe it. And please call me Oberyn or Uncle. None of this prince business." He waves his hand at word prince, stepping away from her and she can see Jon finally relax his grip. "Of course, Uncle."

He beams at the title, and it makes her heart ache, remembering the loss of her Aunt, his sister, and her children, his niece and nephew.

She knew Prince Doran had children, but they were older, hadn't been considered children for years. And while she didn't remember everything her father had told her about his favorite brother, he had made it clear that he loved children. To see them just be children, untainted by the horrors of life.

Oberyn turns his attention to her brother.

"Jon Snow, you are Ned Stark's boy." Her eyes narrow at the way he paused before saying Lord Stark's name. It was odd and made her itch to know why he did it.

"I thank you for guarding our Princess back to us. You will be treated well here in Dorne." Jon casts a look at her, but nods. "Thank you, Prince Oberyn." "Of course. Now," He claps his hands together and turns his attention back to her.

"I've rented a few rooms for us, you look like you need some rest." His words are firm but filled with concern and it makes her swallow roughly.

"She's been sick since we left Stoney Sept." "Jon," she warns, "I told you I am well." He goes to say something, but he looks around and stops, jaw clenching. "I won't hold my tongue when we are in private." She reaches over to him and grasps his arm, "I don't expect you to."

She's aware of the keen eyes of Oberyn and his guard, but she doesn't take away her hand. She would not hide her affections for Jon like she had been forced to in Winterfell. He had gone long enough without much affection, and she wouldn't let her words of reassuring that Dorne would be good for him fail.

"Let us get to the rooms where we can talk in private." "Thank you."

Her, Jon, and Ghost follow the Prince and his guard, Daemon, to an inn, and she has to stop herself from giggling at Jon's expression when he realizes that it's next to a brothel.

"Breathe, Jon." She whispers to him, as they enter the inn, after pausing to give coin to a servant from the inn to bring their trunks up. "Dorne is a much different place." "It's the middle of the day." He hisses, eyes darting around. "People want pleasure during all times of the day, not just night." He gapes at her, before his nose wrinkles. "Disgusting." He mutters and she can't stop her laugh at that.

Not noticing how it catches the attention of her uncle and his guard, but Jon doesn't miss it and he doesn't know how to feel about the red viper and the way his gaze rests on his sister.

Was he looking at her in hunger because she was all he had of his brother? Because she was family that he'd never gotten to know, when so much of it had been ripped away? Or was it something else? Something more Targaryen of nature?

She was a beautiful woman and he'd seen many of men look at her with a hungry gaze. Robb had even looked once or twice. He'd have to look to see what sort of relationships the Martells had.

He was sure a marriage to a cousin or two was in practice, as it was nearly everywhere, but he needed to know if they too practiced the wedding of siblings, or if it was only Prince Oberyn who was of unnatural inclinations.

Heading up the stairs, Oberyn gestures to one of the rooms. "This for you, Niece. And there's a door connecting the room next to yours, for your guard. Daemon and I are in this room." He opens the door across from her.

"Please come in and sit while your trunks are brought up and the owner finds a lady to wait on you." She frowns at the words. "I'm quite fine without a maid to help me." "You are a princess. At Sunspear, Doran already has two picked to help you." She has to tighten her hands into fist so they don't go to rest on her belly.

"I've never had ladies to help me. I suppose I'll have to get used to the idea." Her quiet words make him frown and he gestures for Daemon to stand by the door.

"I'd like to talk about your sickness. You say you're well, but you've been sick for half your journey." She looks nervously at the door that's still open.

"Daemon may leave if you aren't comfortable." Oberyn says, misinterpreting her glance. "No," she shakes her head. "It's fine if he stays. I don't mind. I just prefer the door is closed." Before she can finish the last word, the door is closed and Daemon stands just beside it.

"Thank you, Ser." He smiles at her, "Most welcome, Princess."

She looks around the room, bright and filled with color. "May I sit?" She asks, gesturing at the chaise close to the writing desk that sits near the middle of the room. "Please."

Sitting down, she lets out a sigh at the feeling of sitting on something soft for the first time since they had left Winterfell. She smiles as Ghost trots over to her, sitting by her feet.

"I'm not sick." She states, chin out. Oberyn seems amused by her words, leaning against the desk. "Yet, according to the man who has vowed to protect you, you've been sick since Stoney Sept." "I'm afraid I don't take well to traveling at the moment. The movement of the horse makes me nauseated." "I see. And if you were to ride in a carriage?" She grimaces before she can stop herself.

She had only traveled by carriage once, when her parents took her to Winterfell to be fostered and rocky movements of the carriage had made her miserable.

"I've never liked carriages either." He winks, before moving to sit beside her on the chaise.

"I don't know if your father ever told you, but I met you once. When you were just a babe."

She looks at him with wide eyes, not noticing how Jon has stepped forward, eyes glued to them, while Daemon has his eyes glued to Jon.

"You were the sweetest thing; I have eight daughters of my own and I still think you were the sweetest babe I've ever seen. You were quiet, startlingly so, but you always were looking around, eyes open. Your eyes are much like my sisters, your aunts. You have Elia's eyes." "I never knew." "I wouldn't expect you to.” His eyes are sad.

“Elia wanted to meet you, but your father and mother refused to go to King's Landing with you. So she asked me to see you in her stead. I had already planned on it, wanting to see my younger brother and his wife that had lured him away from Dorne. I visited and they still were trying to find a name for you." "Still?" "You were only a moon old, maybe two. They didn't settle on one until after I left. So while I was there, I called you Waterlily."

Her hand goes up to cup the one necklace she wore no matter what. Only taking it off when she bathed. Her father had gifted it to her before they left her at Winterfell. Pressing a kiss to her brow and calling her Waterlily for what would be the last time.

Tears prick her eyes at the memory, at the knowledge of how she got the nickname, and at hearing it after so long. "It was their name for me. Not the one just anyone used, but family."

He smiles at her, "I'm glad that our Waterlily has finally returned home."

Taking a breath, she lets her hand fall from where it was touching her necklace to her stomach. He had soothed her nerves with a story, with talks of her parents, and she felt ready.

"I'm with child." His eyes widen, but his smile doesn't fall or change.

"Ah, yes morning sickness is a strange thing for many women. And traveling on horse makes it worse?" She nods, "I didn't have it until we reached Stoney Sept and after that nearly every time I got off my horse I was getting sick." He frowns and gets up, gesturing for her to lay down.

"How many moons are you?" "I'm unsure. I haven't had my moon's blood for three moons though." "And I'm assuming before your journey you were still active?" Blood rushes to her face at the words, but she nods. "Yes."

He turns to look at Jon, nose slightly wrinkled. "I don't want to assume, but I have to ask, is the child yours?" Jon looks ill at the thought. "No, no. I'm her sworn shield."

His nose unwrinkles and he turns back to her. "I'm going to ask that you strip down to your shift so I can examine you. I want to see how far along you are and just check to see how the babe is doing. Is it alright for Jon and Daemon to stay in the room?"

She nods, but looks at Jon. "You can leave, Jon. I understand." He shakes his head. "I'm your guard, I'll stay." "Nothing untoward will happen." "I'll stay." He insists and she sighs, but gives up. Jon had the Stark stubbornness if she had ever seen it.

Standing up, she carefully reaches behind her and undoes her dress’ ties. Her left arm comes up to her chest, hugging the dress to her as she moves a bit further away from the chaise before taking it off fully. She murmurs a thank you when Oberyn takes the dress from her and lays it on the bed.

Laying back down on the chaise, she breathes a little easier. Her dress was a bit heavy and she knew that she'd have to buy some fabric soon to make dresses better suited for Dorne. She'd buy some more to make Jon things as well. He'd suffer in his current wear.

"How active were you exactly?" He asks, as he kneels beside the chaise, his eyes appraising the small swell of her stomach. "It matters?" "It will help. Activity affects your moon blood as soon as you have it." "I've been active since I was seven and ten," she starts, figuring he'll ask that as well. "As for how active." She spares a glance at Jon who's staring at the wall as if it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. "For the last six moons, once a day about."

"Were you a heavy bleeder?" "Yes."

He frowns and his gaze moves from her stomach to a small box sitting next to him, full of different things she's seen Maester Luwin with.

"Is that bad?" "Not bad. It's common for Martell women. It can make birth a little messier, is all. And before or even after your moonblood stopped, did you notice any changes? In sleep, appetite, anything?" Blood rushes to her cheeks again as she remembers one change she had noticed nearly immediately. "My breasts became very sensitive."

He makes a humming noise and then gestures to her belly. "May I?" She nods.

She watches as he carefully rests a hand over the small swell of her belly, before moving his hand down to rest below it and he pushes up slightly, making her wince.

"Sorry." He murmurs. "It's alright."

He moves his hand up again and presses down just a light. As he continues to examine her, fingers gently poking at the swell of her belly, hand pushing on it from different angles, and fingers gently touching her hips, making them move and turn just a little.

"From experience I'd say you were six moons," her eyes widened at that. "But, from what I can feel and what you've told me, I'd say you're four months and with twins." Her hand comes to rest on her belly. "Twins?" He nods, standing.

"Twins. We haven't had them for awhile in the Martells. I don't know your mother's family." She shakes her head, "No twins." "And the father's?" "From what I know of the Greyjoys, they don't have twins." "Then you've been blessed by the gods. Twins are a blessing whether or not they've been had in a family before. We will have a feast to celebrate in Sunspear." Oberyn tells her, with a smile.

"Did you say Greyjoy?" "Jon," she sighs, sitting up. "Greyjoy? Theon Greyjoy? That's who got you with child?" "Yes."

"I should've killed him." "Jon," she scolds. "I'm a woman grown. I knew what I was getting into when Theon turned his attention to me." "And you wanted his attentions?" "Yes. If I had said no, Theon would've never touched me. He may say nasty things but he's a good man."

"And when will he be joining you? If he is such a good man?" Oberyn asks. Her jaw clenches and she looks away from Jon. "He won't be."

"He doesn't want anything to do with…" Jon trails off and then his features are twisted into a snarl. "And you call him a good man?"

"He won't be coming, because he doesn't know." Her words are firm and she looks at Oberyn, knowing it is to him and later Prince Doran, she will need to explain herself too.

"Theon Greyjoy is a hostage at Winterfell. He is treated well, allowed to take lessons with their heir and to eat with them, but he is a hostage. If his father does anything, he will be dead. And while at Winterfell I was under Lord Stark's protection, he takes honor and vows very seriously. He vowed to my father and mother to protect me like one of his own. If he had learned that Theon had any interest in me and then acted on it, he would've been punished. And if Lord Stark learns of Theon being my children's father, he will take his head. Regardless of what the Ironborn might do due to him taking Theon's head."

Oberyn looks at her, silent and nothing showing on his face before he nods, understanding clear in his eyes.

"You are smart. You love Theon and want him alive, but you also see that war would break out if Lord Stark was to take his head. Doran will like your counsel on a number of matters, I imagine. And neither I nor Ser Daemon will say anything about the father of your children. Doran will be the only other one to know."

"Jon?" She asks, voice quiet as she looks at a boy who looks more like a man than he should. "I vowed to keep your counsel and even If I hadn't I would never share something you want kept secret. No one will hear this from me." "Thank you." She whispers. "Thank you."

[fandomsbyladymelodrama]

Merry Christmas, friends! (and to be clear this is not a Christmas fic oops XD but it is a new collab from the talented @salzrand and myself so Merry Christmas just the same :))

[lintwriting]

I made a post earlier talking about how bashing fics are the result of the disconnect between the level of suspension of disbelief expected from an author vs from their immature audience.

Most authors expect a level of shared disbelief. "People will get this is just some handwave-y nonsense for the story. They will suspend their disbelief." They do not realize that kids won't know this automatically. Kids don't need to 'suspend their disbelief' because they will simply believe the nonsense.

And then the kiddos grow up and feel betrayed because they realize that they've thought about this way more than the author ever did.

But what if the authors DID think about it? What if they planned for that? What if they realized that the preteen to young adult demographic is PRIMED for this kind of relationship to their media?

Introducing the DECONSTRUCTION (and Madoka Magica)

Now, this term is a bit controversial. It's a mode of analysis that, from what I can tell, exclusively comes from the Anime Analysis/Tv Tropes side of the internet, and nowhere else.

Because of those hazy origins, it's a little hazy what it even means. When I use it, I mean it's a media that subverts tropes by applying a lens of realism to it, specifically to "expose" the shocking truth behind a functioning cliche/genre. Usually in reference to genre fiction like superhero shows, mecha shows, fantasy shows, etc.

It became a coined term with its application to Neon Genesis Evangelion, but people would be more familiar with it for shows like Game of Thrones or Watchmen or Madoka Magica.

You think this is just your average high fantasy? THINK AGAIN! The main character DIES because that's REAL life in the hard medieval dark ages.

You think this is just your average superhero comic? THINK AGAIN! These superheroes use their powers for selfish reasons instead of selfless ones because THAT'S MORE REAL.

You think this is just your average show about sparkly girls fighting monsters? THINK AGAIN! These girls have been conned into their supernatural powers and fighting is dangerous and depressing because THAT'S MORE REAL. GRIMDARK is MORE REAL.

Now this can be mundane realism ala Vermeer, or the grimdark realism you see with all those Watchman superhero comic knock-offs in the 90's or all those Madoka Magica magical girl knock-offs or all those Game Of Thrones knock-offs in the late aughts. Choose any realism you like because Realism is subjective!

check out here for a breakdown of why "grimdark" does not make "realistic" and here for why realism is subjective/unnecessary for writing. I'm not going to be getting into that here.

HATING the term """DECONSTRUCTION"""

Now, opponents of the term DECONSTRUCTION point to this very subjectivity as the reason why it's functionally meaningless as a term.

"Madoka Magica isn't 'more realistic' compared to other magical girl shows. Other magical girl shows like Princess Tutu show ALSO portray depressing, deep, and dangerous situations happening to magical girls. How is what Madoka does any more 'realistic' than what Tutu does, especially when both of them ultimately reaffirm the Magical Girl Genre?"

I think this, at its core, misunderstands why people call something a deconstruction. This is an understandable mistake because the anime people who coined the term didn't even understand why they felt the need to call something a deconstruction.

The original term Deconstruction analysis, from before the anime/TV Tropes side of the internet appropriated it, comes from philosopher Jacques Derrida. Derrida, in simplified terms, explained the infinite gap between thought and communicating that thought. The infinite gap between concepts and the language trying to describe those concepts.

So it's pretty ironic the way we've completely butchered his term into this anime "genre deconstruction" mode of analysis and then completely butchered this "genre deconstruction" mode of analysis into "making something more realistic."

But while this "genre deconstruction" is not real deconstruction, I'm going to analyze it on its own terms anyways because I do find it meaningful, if not the way we define it now.

In my opinion, deconstruction has nothing to do with "realism" and everything to do with the "exposing the shocking truth behind a functioning cliche" part of its definition. It doesn't matter if Princess Tutu is 'realistic' because it doesn't portray itself as 'in conversation with' the magical girl genre.

CLICHE and the Generation Cycle of Growing Up

You ever notice how deconstruction's most famous examples are from genres made for adolescents? Magical Girls, High Fantasy, Superheroes. Hmmm?

That has everything to do with the way the cycles of cliches work. Overly Sarcastic Productions has some really great videos breaking down how writing is all about tropes.

And how there's a cycle where a trope begins FRESH AND EXCITING where authors all remix each other. Then all the good stuff gets said a million times until the trope becomes a shorthand for a specific function. Then people get sick and tired of it and actively fight against its usage.

This often also coincides with the generation that was young when the trope was popular growing up and looking back on the trope.

Ex: You love Disney Romances as a kid, grow up and realize no prince is coming to get you, and get tired of "love at first sight" stories because the love often feels like a shorthand plot device instead of genuine romance, leading to parodies and then a new generation of Disney movies with no romance at all.

Ex: The cowboy Western Genre has gone through this. Multiple times now. First with traditional westerns that are now dead. Then with Space Westerns in Japanese animation. Also dead, though we do get reboots from time to time.

Ex: Joss Whedon/Marvel Humor.

Ex: The isekai/transmigration genre is currently going through this. The West has no conception of transmigration and barely any understanding of isekai—likening them to portal fantasy with nary a thought to how its become its own niche genre. But it IS a niche genre now, resplendent with bizarrely specific tropes and cliches that have a functional logic underneath inscrutable to new viewers.

I watched a C-Drama recently where they didn't even bother to explain transmigration beyond a shot of a girl's ghost hovering another girl's sleeping body. And like, if I was a Westerner, I would have NO CLUE what that was supposed to mean.

Of course, as a Scum Villain fan, I know that it was a visual shorthand meant to imply Transmigration, where the girl was transported into another dimension via the body of another girl, but this implication is reliant on the understanding that you've already seen this trope a thousand times now.

("We don't need to show this again, you get the drill." NO, we don't! Not here in the West. Please explain. At this rate, we'll be getting to parodies of transmigration and then no transmigration at all—all before the West even gets a whiff of what "transmigration" means. Beyond like, niche anime/webtoon fans.)

The point is, you get to a point where you don't even notice how terminally cliche your genre has gotten unless you get confronted by someone out of the loop. And that acts as a neat metaphor for the way childhood works.

A lot of the "truths" of the world, like that 'adults are to be trusted' or that stories are 'simple retellings of events,' are actually just thought-terminating cliches you've been taught as a shorthand to make things simpler to understand/easier to control.

That's why adolescent media, rather than say speculative Sci-Fi for philosophical thought experiments or literary fiction, is at the core of "deconstruction genre analysis."

This ""form of analysis"" is just the result of artists noticing the happy intersection between the form/function of adolescence and adolescent media, making for the perfect metaphor. A marriage of literary convention and human psychology. "Medium is the message"? Make it "Genre is the message."

As such, actual realism is secondary to the the psychological aspect of "breaking down a thought terminating cliche."

Madoka Magica is not more realistic than Princess Tutu.

IT DOES, however, directly reference the magical girl genre as we know it within the show itself. Madoka, the main character, draws sparkly magical girl outfits in her notebook and imagines her Magical GirlTM hair styles when she finds out that she can become a magical girl. These are not just magical girls to her—these are Magical GirlsTM. She's as familiar with the cliches of the genre as we are.

This is in service to highlighting that we're meant to be engaging with the idea of the genre itself, not just the themes of selflessness and depression within it. Madoka Magica also has a lot of Brechtian techniques within the framing of the show, with the series' first shot even beginning with literally "opening the curtains" to break the fourth wall a little bit, highlighting that it's a bit self-aware/meta. That way, we can see the intentional "wider commentary on the genre" aspect to it.

(Like the way Spider-verse uses "canon event" and the multiverse as a clear reference to extended audience canon culture to signal that it's making a meta commentary on the wider discussion of Miles Morales and the extended universe, not just his personal struggles as a character.)

So, Princess Tutu is NOT less realistic or less depressing than Madoka Magica. In fact, it even "deconstructs" fairytale cliches. It isn't a Magical Girl genre deconstruction as we think of it, though, because it isn't making those overt commentaries on the Magical Girl Genre thought-terminating cliches, the way Madoka Magica is (tutu is moreso about fairytale ones). Tutu isn't winking and nodding at us the way Madoka does when she doodles magical girl outfits, or when episode 3 happens, or with Kyubei's whole deal.

CONCLUSION: Magic Children Fighting the Genre

So yeah, a lot of these deconstructions have nothing to do with "realism" or being "darker" and everything to do with the "exposing the shocking truth behind a functioning cliche" part of its definition, usually for cliches that are in that late life cycle, oversaturated stage, matching the way its audience has also grown more cynical in life. The stereotypical grimdark aspects come from that same teenage impulse to bash, to be edgey to be "more real."

In my previous post, I also liken "bashing" to the way victims of religious indoctrination finally escape and start spitefully "bashing" the religion out of a sense of betrayal. This comparison especially rings true for this post about deconstruction, as the term for the American Evangelical movement in which "Christians rethink their faith and jettison previously held beliefs, sometimes to the point of no longer identifying as Christians" is-- quite literally -- Faith Deconstruction or just Deconstruction for short. Isn't that fascinating? I think it proves my point.

Anyways, to even "expose the shocking truth" in the first place, you need faith or just some sort of idealistic jumping off point, which is why "Magic Children Fighting--The Genre" is so prevalent in genre deconstruction.

You can't just subvert and "deconstruct" forever, because at some point, you're just going to run out of meaningful things to say and end up having twists for no reason, as the Game-Of-Thrones-"Themes are for eighth-grade book reports"-writers ended up doing for season 8 lol. That's its own thought-terminating cliche. Thus, some sort of idealistic genre is necessary.

And "Magic Children Fighting: The Genre" is so rich in idealism. Whether it be shonen anime "You can do it!" or magical girl "Friendship is Magic" or high fantasy's underdog chosen one narrative or... whatever mecha shows are about.

Whichever "Magic Children Fighting: The Genre" archetype you choose, you can easily turn it into "Magic children fighting the genre!"

And I think that that's meaningful!

It's beautiful when adolescent media writers do manage to go that extra mile to think about how to make it so that their audience is able to enjoy the show as adults. It's cool when they refuse to handwave explanations or cliches and put genuine thought into work that kiddos might not appreciate at first.

In my next few posts, I'll probably go into works that manage to succeed at Deconstruction (Madoka Magica, Rebellious Girl Utena), works that people do not traditionally think of Deconstruction because they failed in some way (Steven Universe), and the darker implications of works that fail to do this (Harry Potter and The Christian Bible (ha ha jk on the bible. or am I?))

in the meantime, you can read this funny post and this funny post about how svsss kind of deconstructs masculine isekai narratives

[not-poignant]

It's taken me way too long to do a Master Fae Tales worldbuilding file, and I've decided to do it in Obsidian. I started yesterday, here's how it's going:

Obviously has a LOT of work needed, but we're moving in the right direction.

The big issue is that I need to standardise a lot of stuff across all the novels if I'm going to be publishing them.

So we officially have a Style Guide lol

Also, all the characters will finally have birth dates. I can't believe I've neglected that so much! (Yes I can, says the dyscalculia).

It's fun, but it's also intimidating, because y'all, did you know the Fae Tales Verse is fucking huge???