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silveraurea · 3 months ago

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The lion cub

cr: pinterest; Game of Thrones (HBO).

Pairings: OFC x Ned Stark

Summary: Jorah Mormont takes Myrren as a slave and gifts her to the Dothraki’s Khaleesi. Viserys recognizes in her his older sister, Maerryn Targaryen. Tywin Lannister disowns Myrren and denounces her as a traitor.

TW: age gap; angst; enemies to lovers; death; mention of sex.

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Chapter 11

The lioness tied the velvet sack on the sell. Jorah climbed on the horse and held the iron chains, as Myrren followed on foot. After a few hours, the amber eyes failed to recognize the path, as the soil became drier and the trees lost their leaves. With the purpose of not being recognized, she endured pretending to be a slave for a month, but the dryness in her mouth made her remember the luxury of the northern cold.

“Ser Jorah. I hope my brother rewarded you well. My mission here is complete. I ask, if you please, take me to the port, so I can return to Westeros”.

“I’m afraid that is not possible”, he held the chains tighter, forcing her to hurry behind him. “You asked to be sold. This means you are a slave on the first place. Do you know the penalty for killing your master?”.

Looked at the dry soil, as her feet nearly stumbled. Myrren was indeed a slave to Casterly Rock, to Tywin Lannister; then to Winterfell, to Ned Stark. One by birth, the other by choice. However, she did not expect she, a highborn lady, would meet such ill fate. She knew not to trust this man, but the imp, allegedly smarter than her, made a debt her life could not pay.

“Such valuable slave”, he pulled the iron chains again, “I dare not keep it. I’ll gift you to the Khalasar”.

Myrren scoffed. “The Dothraki pigs?!”.

The chains were thrown into the hot sand. The fragile body followed, and Myrren fell before the Khal and his wife.

“Ser Jorah”, said the woman, “you were absent for months. I missed your council”.

“Khal. Khaleesi. I have a gift for you”.

The amber eyes dared to look up. The Khal was a horse made man, thick hair tied beyond his waist, barely with clothes to hide the scars on the bronze skin. Beside him sit the Khaleesi, a young woman no more than ten and six, with silver hair and defiant eyes. Just like hers.

“Search her”.

Tribe men held the iron chains, as another looked into her vests. “Let go of me, you pigs! I am Myrren Lannister, Lady of Winterfell!”.

“Was. Before I took her as a slave”.

The man took out the rose dagger, the rose sword, and her two rings. The Khaleesi had them brought to her, the ruby caught her attention. “What are you doing with the dragon’s eye?”.

A man with silver hair invaded the tent. “Stop this! What on earth do you think you’re doing?! This is the princess of Dragonstone!”.

The Khaleesi’s eyes saw fear. Looked at her brother, indeed the slave’s hair was as pale as theirs. Could it be?

“Our lost sister, Maerryn Targaryen”, he introduced her, approaching, marveled at her presence. Viserys took her hand, kissed it. “Please accept our apologies, sister”.

“You are out of your mind!”, Myrren retrieved her hand immediately. “I was born to Tywin Lannister, lord of Casterly Rock! This… how can this be?”.

“I see how you were able to survive”.

The lioness watched the Khaleesi whisper to the Khal. Then, Daenerys approached the lioness, sat beside her. Touched the pale curls, matched a strand to hers. “I’ve always wanted a sister!”, she exclaimed in Valyrian. The purple eyes filled with tears. “I’ve always dreamed of meeting you. You are a legend to us. Father’s favorite, crowned heir to the iron throne after Rhaegar!”

Frowned. This strange language, she understood every word. The memories from her childhood were made of councils, gold and sea. There was never any mention of her birth mother. This question always paired in her mind, and all Tywin Lannister could tell were her kindness, her good deeds, her sudden death. If true, this meant Myrren was an illegitimate daughter. She shivered, the knees intertwined in the red soil, even a warm loathed her existence. And despite all she was taught, she looked at Daenerys who cried beside her, the dragons were of sincere heart. Just as she learned to be.

Suddenly, a man hidden in a cloak gave a letter to Ser Jorah. He opened it, shared eyes with the Khaleesi. “A decree from Tywin Lannister”. Daenerys told him to read out loud. “I, Tywin Lannister, lord of Casterly Rock, ward of the west and hand of the king, affirm that Myrren Lannister was a bastard I raised, who dared to plot against her legitimate brother. She is unworthy of the Lannister name. I hereby disown her, and denounce her as a traitor, punishable by death”.

The amber eyes watered with rage. The hands grasped the red sand and watched it slip away through the wind. Her pride, her honor, all she believed were turned to ashes. Closed her eyes at her misery, all her life she was blinded by her father, the person she desperately wanted to please, only to be abandoned and disowned in the end. “I… Khaleesi, forgive me. I need some time, some space”.

Daenerys held her hands. “Of course, sister”. Returned her belongings, ordered a woman to approach. “Clear a tent. The princess needs rest”.

A rope was hung on the tent’s ceiling. The bare foot, burned by the hot sand, climbed the desk with difficulty. She remembered Ned’s words, “What does it matter?”. If she was a lion or a dragon, or both, her fate was one. Her dreams showed her, Ned would die in the Red Keep sooner or later. The amber eyes closed as the rope touched the neck. All tears had dried in the past hour, together with her greed and pride.

“Sister!!”, the Khaleesi hurried inside and held the table. “The sacrifices to keep your life were endless for you to end it like this!”.

Myrren frowned, as all around her lost its color and wilted like dry leaves. “What were they worth for?”.

“You have the blood of the dragon! Blood of my blood!”. Denerys helped her down, sat with her on the floor. “Father lives through you. He named you princess so you could avenge him! And us!”.

“But I’m only half dragon!”.

Held her hand. “You have Valyrian white hair! We were born from the same mother! Who dares to say otherwise?”.

The lioness accepted the tears of fire. It was difficult to embrace her true heritage: a mother whose life was taken away by her father, a powerless queen who fled and left her behind in hopes she would survive. Tywin dared to turn a dragon into a lioness, bury her in traumas and send her to wilt in the snow. The wolf was the one knight who dared to trespass the golden armor of pride, who conquered her love despite all. Ever since the snowstorm by the godswood, ever since her hand intertwined in his, she promise to devote him her whole life. And here she was, ready to make another sacrifice in order to protect him, her Ned. All in name of the dragons who embraced her despite being a bastard.

“I have an announcement to make”, said the lioness to Daenerys. “Take me to the Khalasar”.

The two white-haired ladies approached the great Khal. Drums soared from behind, as tribesmen engaged in fights and feast, ignited by the flame of the stars above them. Myrren knelt in front of the Khal, bowed the head to the ground between her hands.

“I greet the great Khalasar and Khaleesi. Destiny has brought me here, and I found my heart among my new discovered siblings. I hereby renounce my previous name and all titles conferred to it, and assume the name given by my birth mother, queen Rhaella Targaryen. From now on, I am to be called Maerryn Targaryen, princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne”.

Maerryn lifted her head. The Khal had pride and fire in his gaze. Daenerys lifted her up. “Sister, you are our guest of honor. Ride with us!”. They hugged.

“Ser Jorah, spread my words”, Daenerys ordered, walking around the fire, “Our lost sister, princess Maerryn Targaryen, the lioness, first of her name, princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, has been found! This is a sign from the gods, a symbol of the Targaryen sigil, three dragons united to conquer the seven kingdoms! Let the world know that Viserys, Daenerys and Maerryn will restore what our ancestors Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys conquered, with fire and blood!”.

The three dragons toasted, and drank to the Khal, who smiled.

A white horse ran through the desert. Scales made of leather swept the red sand, as the sword tingled to the touch of flesh. Behind the white curls, the blood of an entire village flowed in a river. Charged to slay all who refused slavery, the amber eyes were at first compassionate, but soon the savagery of the Dothraki invaded her heart. The great Khal had bestowed Maerryn and Viserys to command each an army of five thousand men, and since then every conquest has been successful.

“Princess”, the tribesman greeted upon her return, tying the white horse on a tree next to her tent. “Ser Jorah requested an audience”.

“Let him enter”.

Maerryn carefully cleaned the sword with a cloth when Ser Jorah arrived. “Your highness”, he begun, “there are urgent news. Lord Tully has raised the banners from the Riverlands in direction to the Rock”. The princess got up. “He said Lady Lannister was honorable for paying her debts, now he expects the rest of the lions to do so. Lord Eddard Stark has also called the banners in support, accusing the Lannisters of insulting the North by disowning the Lady of Winterfell”.

The gold eyes widened at the sight of war. Lord Tully was known for being loyal to his family, inseparable. By killing Theon Greyjoy, Myrren had broken the Lannister deal by seeking justice. She never calculated Lord Tully would ignite a war in her defense, and much less the North to follow.

“There’s more”, he warned her. “The Baratheon army has joined the Lannister forces in defense. They accuse you of taking advantage of the Lannister name to make atrocities. They will soon meet in open field”.

The princess threw the rose sword on the ground. “How long until they meet?”.

Ser Jorah looked ahead. “I can’t say, my princess. Two moons separate us from Westeros, by horse”.

Maerryn dismissed him. Started packing her few belongings, hurriedly, the whole North and the Riverlands fought a war on her name and she wouldn’t dare to be absent. “The man who gives the sentence yields the sword”, she remembered Ned’s words. She must be the one to finish it.

Daenerys invaded her room. “Sister!”, she joined hands, “do you wish to abandon us?”.

“I fear wherever I go, I may bring destruction”, said Maerryn. “I don’t want to implicate you any further. I mustn’t let the North and the Riverlands fight in my name. Much less my husband”.

“Why ever not?! Maerryn, you have achieved what generations behind us couldn’t! These two kingdoms honor you! Are willing to die for you!“, she pressed her hands in excitement. “Your husband loves you. Who else should defeat you, but your true family? We should unite forces! Oh, only if we could cross the narrow sea!”.

Suddenly, the golden eyes lost focus, the princess nearly stumbled. Daenerys supported her arm. “Sister, I’m concerned. Are you ill?”.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I feel dizzy in mornings, ever since I arrived in Pentos”.

The purple eyes shined. “How can you say it’s nothing?”, she exclaimed, “did you have your moon days?”.

They shared a look. “No, it can’t be!”.

Daenerys laughed. “You are blessed by the gods!”.

“One more reason I should go. I must hide, until the time comes”, Maerryn tied the cloth with her belongings, “What will be of this child, if raised in wars? I must… go to Winterfell. My child must be born in the North! What will the banner men say?”.

“Sister, think! All seven kingdoms are looking for you. Who would hesitate to kill a dragon? I beg of you, ride with us, at least until your pregnancy becomes stable”, put a hand on her belly, “until your child is born!”.

“And what if Ned dies?”, water shed from the eyes of gold, “Who will I rely on?”.

“Your child has the blood of the dragon”, the Khaleesi wiped her tears. “As do you. As do we”.

#the lion cub #my fanfics

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westeroslive · 8 months ago

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when the sun rises in the west, the gods eyes are drawn. may the seven have mercy upon you as we welcome you to court, lord alaric mormont, ser theodore storm ! now a victim of the court, the bards compare your beauty to taylor zakhar perez, lewis tan as you play the game in the midst of seasoned nobles.

behave and follow the queen's word written in our checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

࣪𓏲ּ ֶָ 𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗 ⁝ taylor zakhar perez, 29, cismale, he/him. announcing the arrival of alaric of house mormont, lord of bear island. whispers among the court name them to be both HONORABLE and STUBBORN in disposition, and those closest to them speak to their interests in archery and weaponsmithing. if we bards could compose a song for them, it might tell stories of roaring, adamant cubs pushing past merciless white snowstorms, paws deep in velvet snow, fangs sinking harshly into rigid, shivering flesh, crystals of frost and blood dangling like rubies on fur tips and beards. a cub, nevertheless, a predator, aching to stretch out its limbs, shed its prey-like youth, and become full-pledged predator ; sharp, polished arrows, piercing aged walls of wars and victories, released from resolute bows, neglecting its frailty and anciency upon the imposition of buoyant boys ; a troublesome childhood, scraped knees, raised hands, and pale mothers, to perturbed young men on wild horses, falling fast into hollows, clawing to escape, only to fall helplessly and hopelessly into familiar despair, tears emptied into tattered, ripped hems and uncanny shoulders . the seven whisper to their most devout queen as she sleeps, making her question where their loyalties truly lie. are they right to whisper? for their loyalties truly lie with house mormont and the north. ( ooc : rosie, 25+, she/her, gmt+8 )

࣪𓏲ּ ֶָ 𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗 ⁝ lewis tan, 33, cismale, he/him. announcing the arrival of THEODORE of house BARATHEON STORM, a knight of the kingsguard + bastard son of petyr baratheon. whispers among the court name them to be both HEADSTRONG and PHLEGMATIC in disposition, and those closest to them speak to their interests in sword fighting. if we bards could compose a song for them, it might tell stories of a thousand and one blades, plummeting from the sun, aimed at the decadent, luscious sea of grass, seized by a stray, wounded dog, beaten and aimless left with a last chance at redemption, not a whine, not a whimper from the mauled creature, only placid gazes at the warm, ethereal body nestled in the untouched lush ; an unclaimed weapon of destruction, swords and shields, spears and daggers, etched with progress, tireless nights of sweat, tears, and pauses, hitched breaths and fathers who can only steal glances, hide proud smiles of acknowledgement with their backs turned and their hopeful sons distraught and forgotten ; a self-made man with a record of gold, a prowess unmatched, wrecked by the catastrophe weaved into his name, heart, body and soul offered at the altar of an equally perilous deity of grace and beauty doused with fire and blood . the seven whisper to their most devout queen as she sleeps, making her question where their loyalties truly lie. are they right to whisper? for their loyalties truly lie with jaehaera targaryen. ( ooc : rosie, 25+, she/her, gmt+8 ) ** taking jaehaera's sword shield wc

#got rp #hotd rp #period rp #oc rp #mumu rp #fantasy rp #westeros.accepted

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wcrfcres · 3 months ago

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war has been diminished into a far less complicated matter in whispers . grandness in violence , victory , and dominance is all that comes to mind at the mere mention of it . the finer , smaller details are left to fall off the scarlet - smeared platter where it is served upon the nobles gathered around the famed painted table . but to alaric mormont , who has made a home in details often looked over , wars will and can never be simple . it demands more than men are able to provide , takes from them everything they do not think they even possess . under the dark clouds of battle , everyone and no one is ready , worthy , or valiant . but always , always is everyone regretful . they say life flashes before a dying man's eyes , no one can really be sure . a dying man is robbed of breaths and farewells . he is simply a dead man , a widow's tale to provide comfort and boost morale . one thing is certain , if such tales proved true , all he will see before his eyes is myranda karstark and her incomparable beauty , the beauty of the north coming only after . steel is cold even against his icy skin , even with linen spread between . he flinches and winced , does not find it in himself to hide the discomfort . shame the last of his worries as he stands in her presence . his heart begins to race as one ware after another is mounted on his body , each one colder and tougher than the one before . safety feels confiding , stifling even , he never got used to it . but he figured he needed to start somewhere if their cause gets heard and acted upon . precautions are to be taken , as if they matter when men mount their horses and charge towards each other uncertain where they may strike . for naught or entertainment , peril is peril . death wears a different face , and in this tourney , it shall wear an armor — and it may as well be his . ❝ i take your word for it , though i feel like a fool no less , how am i supposed to move in it ? ❞ the wilderness of bear island remained the only witness of the rage and violence that seemed to thrive in the flesh of men , his included . the armor is a mere attempt to make nobles swallow the despicable any of them are capable of doing .

❝ how do i breathe in it ? ❞ he brings forth a jest , to lighten the mood that was bearing heavy on the severity of the outcomes . it is all games and mirth , until someone's chest bursts into a soup of flesh and blood . amusement swimming in his eyes as he looks down on the fitted armor , making some kind of hushed sound and clink or creak when he moved . ❝ it makes sounds . no wonder these southerners take too long to hunt bears and boars , they scare them away with the noise . ❞ light laugh escapes the lord mormont as he turned to his dearest . swiftly joy was taken from him , and it is replaced with an awful turn in his stomach . comfort was not something he gave nor received easily , not because of ego or pride . rather it touches something within him that brings about a river of hurt not even time can swim on , making him inefficient . ❝ i ... i will be careful , i promise . my goal will be to stay seated and to come out of it unharmed so we may hide away in the library for the rest of the festivities . ❞ to say it out loud , beyond this tent would be odd . no man going into a fight can ever assure they hold the god's favor or luck in their pocket . but alaric wanted to , demand it from the gods and steal luck if only to give myranda all that she wanted . ❝ is it meant to be hot ? i am sweating like i've never sweat before under here . do you reckon they'd allow me not to wear it ? ❞

The air had been sucked from the tent, surely, leaving behind a void. It is a giddy feeling for a moment, like standing at the top of a tall tower, a head-spin before she does finally take a singular breath, and then another, and then another. It does not remove the distraction, but it does ground her, slightly, enough for her to feel shame over the reaction. Get it together, she scolds herself. He is baring soul, genuine concerns, and she is more concerned with the slope of shoulder, the strength in his arm. But, beyond all that, when she can finally drag eyes away, is him. The same eyes she had looked into more times than she could count, despite every moment being precious. It was still Alaric, and yet somehow that was the most panic-inducing part of it. Heart thundered in her chest, banging against ribs like it wished to be free, and while she spun ring around her finger, there was no denying the heat that rose to her face.

It was one thing to sigh wistfully while watching the men train in the yards, or the women walking past in the daring cuts of the southern dresses. Another entirely to be so utterly struck by someone she knows. It was Alaric, who made her laugh no matter the circumstances. Who had been there so long, she couldn't imagine a life where she did not search him out in every crowd, or turning to him with any concern. His name had taken a meaning of it's own, representing safety, and comfort, and love. A friend, in the most meaningful way. Except the thoughts that had rushed through her mind certainly weren't friendly, and while she would admit to no one that she had thought them, it made her want to beg forgiveness for gods she was almost sure would not care. There are greater concerns that surround them, and yet Myranda can name none of them, can think of nothing but Alaric.

"I... What?" She heard the words, but somewhere between hearing them and trying to form a response, there was nothing. No candle at the desk, whole world shrinking to just them, just that tent. How long had she been stood, with what she assumed was an embarrassing look on features? Awkwardness almost does make her laugh, at herself rather than him, but it is easily contained, too worried of hurting his feelings. She would do anything, to protect his feelings. Even remain silent. "No, I would never... Why would I laugh? You will look fearsome. And dashing. And... And every bit the knight of stories. You have my word." And he certainly looked strong enough to bear the weight of the armour. No, another thought to be banished to the wintery edges of her mind. "I swear it. And I swear that if I do hear a single laugh, I will be borrowing your lance to smack some sense into the offending party."

She swallows hard around the lump in her throat, before turning eyes towards the tent wall. "You are going to be careful, aren't you? I would be... Terribly angry, to have come all this way, only for you to be injured." She flicks eyes back to him for a moment, locked decidedly on his face. He was every bit the bear of his sigil, somehow sweetened by the knowledge of the truth of him. It was an honour, to be... She wanted to say his friend, but the word rung hollow in mind. "I need you to promise that you..." Will return to me, she wants to say. But he is not hers, not to command nor to summon, nor to even ask this. But she does anyway. "That you will not be hurt."

#𝑤𝑐𝑟𝑓𝑐𝑟𝑒 ˖⁺‧₊˚✦ // ❝ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓 — threads #morewoe #𝑤𝑐𝑟𝑓𝑐𝑟𝑒 ˖⁺‧₊˚✦ // ❝ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓 — myranda karstark #𝑤𝑐𝑟𝑓𝑐𝑟𝑒 ˖⁺‧₊˚✦ // ❝ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓 — chapter : let there be cake #( no tiddies this time only slopes of shoulders lol )#tw: violence #tw: body horror

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fandomsbyladymelodrama · 3 years ago

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@salzrand - The forehead curl #RIPMe <3

#jorah mormont #daenerys targaryen #dany x jorah #daenerys x jorah #jorleesi #ile aux ours #bear island #so begins the tourney chapters #with lord mormont hiding out with his horse #lol #because hermit bears live on bear island #XD #a man and his horse #dreamy sighhhhhhh #art by salzrand #blame her for the feelings this pic conjures up #;)

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agentrouka-blog · 3 years ago

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What do you think about the conditions at Wall after Jon death? How do you think Jon will handle things after he gonna resurrected because it gonna mess as he was mediator between wildlings and NW?

Hi anon!

I have no real ideas here. It depends on how much Bowen Marsh and his co-conspirators had actually planned for the aftermath?

Just before the assassination, Jon makes sure to inform every last of them that Stannis was supposedly killed "with all his strength", by reading the Pink Letter aloud in the Shield Hall.

We know Bowen Marsh strongly disapproved of how closely Jon was tying the fortunes of the Watch to Stannis' fate. This news, along with Jon being grievously injured will absolutely dominate the immediate aftermath of Jon XIII.

(TL;DR: You're asking me?)

Stannis "death" leaves Selyse and Shireen is a very vulnerable position, same with Melisandre. The wildlings are not likely to be fond of them, either. But the wildlings have been integrated into the structure of the Watch, and not all black brothers disapprove of that. The structures Jon tried to put into place aren't actually that unstable, so I don't think it'll all collapse into chaos. They know they have a common foe, and they have had some time to get used to each other.

Perchance the conspirators vastly overestimated how welcome their actions will be in the eyes of the Watch. Either they take over and there is a truly dangerous stand-off between the various factions, or they will meet a surprisingly swift end before Jon is even awake.

Then there is Hardhome.

"But now I find I cannot go to Hardhome. The ranging will be led by Tormund Giantsbane, known to you all. I have promised him as many men as he requires."

"And where will you be, crow?" Borroq thundered. "Hiding here in Castle Black with your white dog?" (ASOS, Jon XIII)

Jon's bestie here has a clear mandate to save the thousands of civilians, and it's unlikely he'll just abandon that plan entirely. Time is of the essence. So a number of wildlings will likely still march North and simply try to use the wildling castles as their base instead of Castle Black. If they manage to save them, there will be a LOT of desperate wildlings at the Wall, demanding the return of their enslaved women and children from Essos. Will they stay at the Wall or try to gain help elsewhere?

Jon, meanwhile, one could surmise from this unprovoked little line, will "hide" at Castle Black, his spirit warged into Ghost. His body (which I expect to be magically comatose like Bran had been) could be cared for by loyal friends like Satin or Val. Tormund took his people to the next castle east, Oakenshield, another potential destination. Perhaps his survival might be obscured from his enemies by burning another body in his stead, leading to later rumors of a resurrection.

Monster remains an official royal hostage along with Val. Does Selyse try to keep them part of her household? For all I know, Selyse might remove from Castle Black post haste, maybe to the Nightfort, which Jon "ceded" to Stannis.

"This is the king's true heir. Shireen will one day sit the Iron Throne and rule the Seven Kingdoms. She must be kept from harm, and Eastwatch is where the attack will come. This Nightfort is the place my husband has chosen for our seat, and there we shall abide. We—oh!" (ADWD, Jon IX)

There she could be found by the returning Tycho Nestoris, and by Justin Massey (with Alysanne Mormont and Jeyne Poole), who had been tasked with travellling to Braavos to hire sellswords with Iron Bank money to secure Shireen's throne. But will he truly do that when he learns Stannis is supposedly dead, or will his personal ambitions interfere? He has been counseling caution and self-preservation all this time.

What happens to Jeyne Poole, known as "Arya", another royal ward now, officially wed to Ramsay? How much pressure will the Northern mountain clans exert on her behalf? Mel's influence here will be crucial for Selyse, but perhaps no longer respected by many others. How many R'hllor followers will stay loyal if their Azor Aai is gone? How will the actual events around Winterfell play into this? All of this eventually leads to the burning of Shireen.

Say, Jon can't stay down and out for too long, but he is unlikley to be immediately lucid if he's been in a prolonged warg-state, plus his injuries will require some recovery time. Events will have moved along quite dramatically by the time he reappears, and there is no telling how any but his closest confidants will react to the idea of a "resurrected" warg Lord Commander, so I doubt he will actually remain that beyond potentially trying to exact justice for the worst transgressions that take place in the meantime.

In general, I see Jon's path leading away from the Wall. I don't actually think he will reunite with Sansa there, I think he will be drawn into the political arc around Winterfell and House Bolton, if only indirectly, and he will be preoccupied with the immediate trauma of having been violently betrayed, of having warged, of whatever spiritual journey he undertakes in his recovery, etc. He will be much more volatile than before the stabbing. If the Watch doesn't want him, it doesn't mean that he'll give up on wanting to prepare the North for the impending ice threat.

And that's not even counting how the Northern Lords will eye Jon as Ned's remaining son, if he is known to be released from the Watch. Manderly sent for Rickon, the clans rode for Ned's daughter, now there's a kid of an age with the late Robb Stark, with leadership experience and his self-forged connections, the Stark look and a fierce wolf. Some will try to move him into a leadership position, others may eye him warily as a potential Ramsay.

Then we have Theon running around with Asha, no doubt. And Sansa riding in on a dying horse. Rickon and Davos.

It's going to be interesting.

#rouka queue #asoiaf speculation #jon snow #the Wall (asoiaf)#night's watch #resurrection theory #selyse baratheon #politics in asoiaf #the North (asoiaf)#justin massey #stannis baratheon

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jackoshadows · 3 years ago

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So, some speculation on how Bran Stark can become King of Westeros.

The series is called A Song of Ice and Fire and not Game of Thrones as GRRM reminds us - “ And it is important that the individual books refer to the civil wars, but the series title reminds us constantly that the real issue lies in the North beyond the Wall. Stannis becomes one of the few characters fully to understand that, which is why in spite of everything he is a righteous man, and not just a version of Henry VII, Tiberius or Louis XI.”

It is the fight against the Others - this existential apocalyptic threat to ALL mankind - that is more important than petty wars between humans over the Iron Throne. That is the central theme of the books unlike in the show. “When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne - Jeor Mormont”.

The Long Night is a horrendous event and Old Nan’s description of it sounds nightmarish.

“Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods”

The Others … Thousands and thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was cold and hard and endless beyond all memory of man. There came a night that lasted a generation, and kings shivered and died in their castles even as the swineherds in their hovels. Women smothered their children rather than see them starve, and cried, and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks. In that darkness, the Others came for the first time … They were cold things, dead things, that hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun, and every creature with hot blood in its veins. They swept over holdfasts and cities and kingdoms, felled heroes and armies by the score, riding pale dead horses, and leading hosts of the slain. All the swords of men could not stay their advance, and even maidens and suckling babes, found no pity in them. They hunted the maids through the frozen forests, and fed their dead servants on the flesh of human children.

tldr - this shit is scary.

Unlike in the show, the Long Night is not going to last for 10 minutes near Winterfell and solved by Arya jumping from behind a tree and stabbing the Night King. The Long Night will probably be the central story of the last book and cover several months of dark winter and affect the whole of Westeros. In the books, Winter has already come to the North - Snowstorms so bad that even armies in the North are finding it hard to move and Winterfell’s walls are no longer seen. No army is crossing the neck into the North. Winterfell will most likely fall and the fight against the Others will continue down south.

Dany dreams of fighting the Others at the Trident -

“That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened.

The last time, the first men were only able to win with the help of the Children and it was the Last Hero - possibly Bran - who gets their help. Bran is the only character in the series heavily involved in this part of the story and he has already met the Children of the forest.

What if the only way the Others can be defeated is some kind of pact where Bran has to become the leader of Westeros for either the Children’s assistance or for the Others to retreat? We really need to know more about the Others and what they want - we probably get this in the next book - to get an inkling of why Bran could be king. We know absolutely nothing about them.

Similarly, the Children hate the Andals, faith of the seven, the lord of the seven kingdoms etc. considering the Andals burned down Weirwoods and destroyed them - what if they want Bran and the Old Gods in the south as a condition for help?

Wouldn’t the whole of Westeros agree to this considering their very survival is what’s at stake? Again, “When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne”.

I also very much doubt that the prophecies of Azor Ahai/PTWP are literal - they are about heroes who undertake great sacrifice to save the realm. The key being ‘sacrifice’ - for ex. Nissa Nissa. Giving up something they care about dearly. What if Dany has to give up the Iron Throne for the greater good? Wouldn’t she do it? This could be why Dany and Jon leave Westeros behind - sacrifice - and head for the lands beyond the wall.

Or it could be some kind of conflict between Bran Vs Jon/Dany?

I think Jon, Dany and Bran are the three heads of the dragon, three parts of the prophesied leader and each will play their part in humans winning the Battle for the Dawn. It would be a sacrifice for Bran as well to leave his home and the North for the south.

Will Bran as king undermine GRRM’s entire point about Aragorn and taxes? Yes, it does. Maybe this is where Tyrion comes into the picture. Without Jon and Dany, he’s the next best person to actually rule - and he does this for Bran, as Hand of the King. Maybe Bran is the figurehead and Tyrion the actual ruler - “ When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king”. - AGoT Jon .

We still have two books left and a lot of story to cover and I think Bran will be getting a lot of POV chapters as GRRM delves more into the fantasy aspect of the series.

So possible character endings: Arya plays an important role being a leader of her people against the Others and ends up being the Stark in Winterfell. Bran ends up as King on the Iron Throne as a condition for either defeating the Others or getting them to retreat, Tyrion ends up Hand of the King/Defacto person actually involved in adminstration and ruling, Jon/Dany leave for beyond the wall and the rest of Westeros assume the Targaryens are dead and gone.

So King Bran is possible - this is high fantasy after all - but how GRRM gets there and whether it makes sense is indeed important and I guess we will have to wait and see if the seeds are getting planted in the next book. According to GRRM’s editor, he told her Bran’s endpoint so they could edit and plan TWoW better:

George is a very secretive fellow, and guards his secrets well. I do know a few things from AWOW, but mainly because we had to shorten a few elements in the book as it was already getting too long, and he had to reveal a few secrets so I could help him redirect parts of the plot a bit. I do know the endpoint of Bran’s story line—and Daniel Abraham, who has been adapting the graphic novel of AGOT for me, knows where Tyrion ends up. - Anne Groel.

#Bran Stark #Tyrion Lannister #Daenerys Targaryen #Jon Snow #Arya Stark #TWoW speculation #ADoS Speculation #Asoiaf

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reddeadrevolutionn · 4 years ago

Text

The Red Wedding • Robb Stark

PLOT: you can see into the future and you warn Robb about the events of the red wedding.

WARNINGS: MAJOR SPOILERS!!! This is also quite long Ahahah

Requested: yes.

You shot up in bed, panting, and with sweat dripping down your face. You grasped at the sheets and hurriedly looked to your husband who was peacefully sleeping beside you.

“Robb,” you shook him gently “Robb, wake up,”

His eyes fluttered open and he ran a hand through his auburn curls “what is it, y/n? Are you alright?” His voice was gravelly, and laced with sleepiness.

You grabbed his shoulders urgently “I saw something. It was the same dream that I’ve been having, but there was more. Robb, we mustn’t go to the Twins, promise me we won’t go!”

His eyes widened and he sat up straighter “what did you see? Tell me it all, Y/n. It’s alright,” he placed a hand on your flushed cheek.

You wiped away your tears and explained the dream to him “it was horrible. I-I can’t even bear to think about it,”

Robb was shocked at the information he had been given. He stood up, hastily getting dressed and rushed over to help you stand “here,” he pulled a cloak around you, “we must tell them.” He then went quickly to the door and ordered a guard to call his advisors and his mother to an emergency meeting in his tent.

Robb cleared the small desk he had and placed a map on it, setting out the wolves, fish and lions.

Soon the lords came rushing in, followed by lady catelyn.

“Robb, is everything alright?” Catelyn asked. Her hair was loosely pulled over her shoulder and her eyes were tired.

He shook his head “Y/n, tell them everything. Leave out no detail,”

You nodded slightly and took a breath “I saw Walder Frey, Roose Bolton, and their blades. There was blood. So much blood. They attacked us. The doors were locked, we were unprotected, and they killed every last one of us. He was angry -Lord Frey- angry that you didn’t wed his daughter, so he murdered us. Me first, then Robb, then Lady Catelyn,”

Their eyes were wide, and their mouths were either hanging open, or pulled together tightly.

“My queen, forgive me, but are you sure it wasn’t just a dream?” Lord Umber asked tentatively

You nodded “I’m certain. It’s been recurring, and this time I was able to see properly,”

Robb focused on the map and pointed “if we have Umber men here, and Mormont men there, the Frey’s nor the Bolton’s would know. We’d have backup to help us,”

The lords nodded in agreement. “And no doubt they’ll want us unarmed -just like her majesty said- so we’ll have to hide our weapons, and wear armour below the clothes. It’ll be thin, but it’s better than nothing.” One Lord said

Robb nodded “you’re right, but we need to organise how to keep Y/n and my mother out of danger,”

It was obvious that you couldn’t fight, neither could your mother in law. So the rest of the night the lords and the King orchestrated a plan to attack, and keep the women out of danger. The door would be unlocked the minute the men outside started fighting and you would both run and hide, in the stables more than likely.

Even after everyone left and it was just you and your husband in the tent, you couldn’t settle. You were biting your nails and shifting every few minutes.

“What is it, my love?” Robb took your hands “there’s something else troubling you,”

You sighed “I have to tell you something. I left out a detail of the dream...I’m pregnant...and that’s why they kill me,”

“Y/n, that’s amazing,” he smiled and touched your stomach “you’re amazing,”

“But I’m worried for the babe. I don’t know how they’ll find out but they’ll know. What if I don’t escape?”

He kissed you gently “I promise you nothing will happen to you, or our baby. I’ll never let anyone harm you,”

You kissed him gratefully “I love you, so much,”

He smiled “I love you. And I love them,” he gestured to the baby

“Him,” you corrected “it’s a strong little boy,”

His smile grew wider “him. Our little boy. I’ll protect him with my life, I swear it.”

You hugged him “I hope you won’t have to, I hope everything happens smoothly.” You buried your face in his neck

He nodded and stroked the back of your hair, gently laying you down beside him, his arms wrapped around you the whole time.

Eventually you drifted off to sleep, inhaling the comforting smell of your husband, and held in his arms.

The morning that you were to go to the Twins, you couldn’t eat. Even when you were brought wine, and grapes and cheese, you knew you couldn’t keep any of it down. Your dress was a simple one. A deep blue with an elegant silver pattern up the sleeves. Your hair was in a northern style, mainly to please Catelyn.

When Robb came into the tent he smiled softly “you’re beautiful,” he paused “but you also look ill,”

You looked down “thank you, I’m just nervous,”

He nodded “I am too, but no harm will come to you. We just need to act normal, like we know nothing of the plans,”

“Yes. You’re right,” you smiled slightly “are we leaving now?”

He nodded again “yes, the horses are ready, are you?”

“I am. Let’s go, I just want to get this over with,” you smiled and took his hand, thanking him when he helped you onto your horse.

The journey to the twins was a tedious one. The Kingsroad seemed never ending. It was a straight, continuous road that ran from The Wall, right the way down to Old Town. The only thing that kept you from sighing every minute and asking ‘how long until we get there?’ Was Robb’s constant reassurance that everything would be fine.

By time you reached the towers your legs were numb and your bottom was probably red. The only break that you took was when you would break your water. Once you had dismounted, you were greeted by one of Walder Frey’s sons who welcomed you with a smile. When he reached his hand out to shake Robb’s hand, Greywind snarled and jumped on him, snapping at his hand.

“Greywind, no,” Robb urgently grabbed the wolf, crouching down to his level “stay here. Ser Raynald, stay with him,”

Ser Raynald nodded stifly, not pleased with the command, but stayed nonetheless.

Walder’s son warily took a step away from the wolf, glancing at the blood running down his fingers. “Is this how you greet people, Your majesty? Sending your dog onto them?”

Robb shook his head “my apologies, my lord, he’s afraid of the river,”

“A dry kennel and a Mutton leg will do him some good, shall I summon the kennel master?”

“He’s a wolf, not a dog. He’s dangerous. It’s quite alright, Ser Raynald will stay with him,” Robb said, not taking any chances of having his wolf killed.

“Alright,” he said “my father is waiting. He’s very eager to meet you, Your grace,” he said to you

You smiled slightly “likewise, my Lord,”

He led you all inside, after Robb commanded his men to set up camp.

Inside was dull, grey, and dusty, yet was obviously cleaned. Lord Frey sat on his chair, surrounded by his daughters and holding his wife by her hip.

“Lord Walder,” Robb began “I am thrilled to finally be here. And even more thrilled that we were able to organise this wedding,”

The old man scowled “not the wedding I had hoped for,”

Robb nodded stifly “you’re right. And for that I can only apologise. My Lord, I am sincerely so-“

He was cut off by Walder holding up a hand “not to me, boy. To my daughters,”

Robb nodded again “right, of course,” he smiled at the girls “my ladies, I will start off by giving you my most sincere apology. I made a rash decision -and although it is not one I would take back- I should have taken into account you all. But you see, I fell in love, and I would hope that one day that also gives you the opportunity to do the same as I have,”

Lord Frey scoffed “yes yes, that’ll do. Now, I expect you’re weary from the long journey, the maids will see to it you are shown to your rooms,”

You smiled “We thank you, My Lord, but before we rest, might it be fitting if we have some bread and salt?” You quickly asked before your husband forgot.

He sneered “fine. Bring us salt and a loaf!” He commanded a maid who scurried off.

You smiled gratefully at him to which he glared.

“Step forward, girl. I want to see the woman who was apparently better than my daughters,” he motioned for you to come closer.

You looked to Lady Catelyn who nodded at you. You took a hesitant step forward and clasped your hands infront of you.

He looked you up and down “yes I see it, any boy would be swayed. What’s better than a pair of full breasts and good hips? Eh?”

You automatically crossed your arms over yourself in an attempt to hide yourself.

Just as your outraged husband stepped forward to say something, you quickly gestured to his daughters “well you have lovely daughters so I doubt it had anything to do with appearance,”

He scoffed again “don’t lie to me, girl. I knew them lot would be ugly the minute their mother squeezed them out,” his eyes moved down to your stomach “let’s hope that one won’t be,”

Your eyes widened and you stepped back beside your husband who cleared his throat “I think we’ll have the bread now,” The maid nodded and handed it out to everyone. You quickly ate it, not wanting to waste a second and instantly felt better.

“My Lord, we’re all extremely tired from our journey, we would thank you if we could be shown to our rooms, please.” Catelyn said

He nodded and commanded another maid to take you to your rooms.

He could have easily been spiteful and have given you cramped, filthy rooms like you had expected, but when you went in you were shocked. Your bed was large and had plenty of pillows. The window was huge and allowed plenty of light to come in and gave you a view of the lake.

You could have laid down on the bed and slept instantly, but the question of how he knew you were pregnant was nagging you.

“How did he know, Robb?” You sighed

“I’m not sure. Maybe he just guessed?”

You shook your head “no. He can’t have seen either. I’m not showing yet, am I?” You studied yourself in the mirror

“No, you’re not. But I mean he has plenty of daughters, that means he’s seen plenty of pregnancies, so that could be how,”

“Someone told him. I guarantee it. It had to have been the maester. Only him and you know. Unless someone overheard us talking,”

“Well, it shouldn’t matter, things will pan out the same way either way,” he rested a hand on your waist “don’t fret over it. Nothing will touch you or him,”

You let out a shaky breath “I’m sorry, I’m just on edge every moment we spend here,”

“I understand, it’s frightening. But try and sleep, you look exhausted, and there’s a celebration tomorrow that we have to act normal at,”

You nodded “okay, I’ll try.” You laid down in the bed and closed your eyes, and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning you woke before your husband. You drew yourself a bath, not wanting any maids to wake him, and climbed in. You sighed and closed your eyes, welcoming the hot water.

“Good morning,” you heard Robb say

“Good morning,” you smiled over at him “I woke early so I decided to just make my own bath,”

He smiled “I’m tempted to climb in there with you, but I have to make sure everyone is prepared,”

You nodded “I understand. And once this is over we can have all the baths we’d like,” you smiled

He chuckled lightly “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded.

Once he had gone you took a breath and left the tub. You put on your best dress and had the maids do your hair in an elegant style. The celebrations would be starting later. So once you were dressed, you picked up a book and started to read.

The day went in painfully slow. Probably because you were anxiously waiting for this moment. The wedding feast. The ceremony had already happened and now you were all in the great hall in the twins. You were seated beside Robb and his mother. You had your hand on Robb’s the whole time. People would smile fondly at your joined hands, thinking you couldn’t stand to be apart but really it was to comfort your stomach which you were surprised managed to keep down the food that was served.

Hours went by and soon people were beginning to chant “bed them.” Your uncle-in-law had a drunken grin on his face but his bride had tears down her cheeks. You sent her a comforting smile. The poor thing was terrified, she’d probably heard whispers of the pain, and Edmure Tully didn’t seem like the type of man to take care with a maiden.

The pair of them were carried off, which emptied the hall significantly. You stood, excusing yourself, giving the excuse of needing the bathroom. Just as you were about to leave, one of Lord Frey’s sons offered you his hand “it would be an honour to dance with you, my queen,”

You took a shaky breath and gave Robb a nervous glance before accepting his hand “alright, but just one song,” you smiled tightly.

He glanced over at his father as he danced with you, almost seeking an approval. You took a quick peek to the door to see a Bolton soldier locking the door swiftly. You take a shaky breath and immediately take a step away from the man when the song is over.

“One more dance?” He asked

“No, thank you, my Lord. I had better get back to my husband,” you smiled nervously.

He nodded understandably and wished you well.

You sat beside Robb, taking his hand, relieved when you heard the tiny jingle of his armour. Shortly after, a familiar song started to play. The reigns of Castamere. You gave a stiff nod to the curly headed man and stood, taking lady Catelyn’s arm in your own. You both headed to a secluded area of the room, armed with small knives that were hidden up your sleeves. You both gripped each other tightly when the fighting started.

Men were falling all around you. Arrows pierced some, and others had blood dripping down their faces.

You heard the large clang of the door being opened and you rushed towards it. But just as you were about to leave, a man stepped infront of you.

“It’ll be a great tale to say I had the Stark princess,” he grinned and took a step forward. Just as he was about to grab you, you plunged the knife into his exposed neck and watched as he collapsed to the ground.

“The Stark Queen, actually,” you spat and rushed out, wiping the blood off your hands. You and lady Catelyn ran to the stables and hid in the most secluded one. You heard Grey-Wind howl and you knew they’d kill him too. You whistled for him and the next thing you knew he was cowering beside you too.

“Easy boy, Robb will be out soon,” you stroked his head.

The fighting went on for a while but eventually the Starks prospered. They came out of the hall, triumphant, and tired.

When you spotted Robb you instantly got up and ran to him. His face was caked in blood and cuts, but he was alive and that’s what mattered.

“Y/n, are you alright?” He asked breathlessly, examining your body for wounds.

You nodded “I’m fine, and so is your mother,” you added when he opened his mouth to ask.

Speaking of his mother, Lady Catelyn also rushed to her son and embraced him. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she stroked his cheek “you look like your father. And acted like him too. That was true bravery, my son,”

He kissed her cheek “thank you mother,” he smiled softly.

Robb turned to his men “Men, today we’ve won. It was a good fight, and there’ll be many more to come...so tonight, we celebrate!”

The men cheered and ran off towards the camp, eager to drink their weight in beer.

“Are you relieved, my queen?” Robb asked you later that night

You nodded “I am. I’m glad it’s over and that we’re safe. All of us.”

He nodded and kissed your forehead “I’ll always protect you,”

You smiled up at him and closed your eyes, falling asleep “I know you will,”

#robb stark imagine #got game of thrones #got #gameofthrones #george rr martin #robb stark smut #robb stark #winterfell #king in the north #westeros #house stark

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ladyofasoiaf · 4 years ago

Text

ADWD: Daenerys vs Jon

In this meta, I will try to find the clues of Dance of Dragons 2.0 in Daenerys and Jon ADWD chapters.

(I will be pointing out how these two are meant to be against each other)

Mostly: I will examine the chapters that follow each other.

Let’s start...

A) ADWD; Daenerys I & Jon I:

Daenerys I:

He lifted the sack, and spilled its contents on the marble. Bones they were, broken bones and blackened. The longer ones had been cracked open for their marrow. “It were the black one,” the man said, in a Ghiscari growl, “the winged shadow. He come down from the sky and … and …” No. Dany shivered. No, no, oh no. “Are you deaf, fool?” Reznak mo Reznak demanded of the man. “Did you not hear my pronouncement? See my factors on the morrow, and you shall be paid for your sheep.” “Reznak,” Ser Barristan said quietly, “hold your tongue and open your eyes. Those are no sheep bones.” No, Dany thought, those are the bones of a child.

[ADWD; Daenerys I]

Dany’s dragon Drogon burns a child

Let’s look Jon chapter that comes after this Dany chapter:

Jon I:

Burning dead children had ceased to trouble Jon Snow; live ones were another matter. Two kings to wake the dragon. The father first and then the son, so both die kings. The words had been murmured by one of the queen’s men as Maester Aemon had cleaned his wounds. Jon had tried to dismiss them as his fever talking. Aemon had demurred. “There is power in a king’s blood,” the old maester had warned, “and better men than Stannis have done worse things than this.” The king can be harsh and unforgiving, aye, but a babe still on the breast? Only a monster would give a living child to the flames.

[ADWD; Jon I]

GRRM knew exactly what he was doing by making this chapter follow the Dany one.

Only monsters burn children= Dragons are monsters.

Even Dany says so. And Dany calls herself a monster too in her second chapters:

Daenerys II:

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

[ADWD; Daenerys II]

Monsters burn children= Dragons are monsters = Dany is a monster

This ADWD; Dany II chapter comes after ADWD; Jon III.

Let’s keep reading Jon I chapter:

Jon I:

Stannis read from the letter. “Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is STARK. A girl of ten, you say, and she presumes to scold her lawful king.”

[ADWD; Jon I]

Like Daenerys, Stannis also believes that he is the only lawful and true ruler, he sacrifices people to flames, he listens what flames tell him, he wants everyone to bend the knee to him.

Also let’s not forget about the Dragonstone and Azor Ahai parallels between Dany and Stannis.

Just like Lyanna Mormont doesn’t bend the knee to Stannis; the other Northern lords won’t accept Daenerys either.

Stannis sees Jon as his key to the North. But Jon made his choice and he chose family and honor over his own desire of becoming the Lord of Winterfell:

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”

[ADWD; Jon I]

Daenerys might also see Jon as her key to the North in the future books but Jon will always choose his honor as a Stark and his Stark family.

Lonely and lovely and lethal, Jon Snow reflected, and I might have had her. Her, and Winterfell, and my lord father’s name. Instead he had chosen a black cloak and a wall of ice. Instead he had chosen honor. A bastard’s sort of honor.

[ADWD; Jon III]

This also comes before a Dany chapter:

[About Jon choosing Sansa and him becoming her hero, please check: Jon x Sansa Book Hints: C12, C13, E2 ]

B) ADWD; Daenerys III & Jon IV:

Daenerys III:

The next morning Xaro’s galleas was gone, but the “gift” that he had brought her remained behind in Slaver’s Bay. Long red streamers flew from the masts of the thirteen Qartheen galleys, writhing in the wind. And when Daenerys descended to hold court, a messenger from the ships awaited her. He spoke no word but laid at her feet a black satin pillow, upon which rested a single bloodstained glove. “What is this?” Skahaz demanded. “A bloody glove …” “… means war,” said the queen.

[ADWD; Daenerys III]

GLOVE IS OFF AND IT MEANS WAR!

Next chapter is Jon:

Jon IV:

As they did their count, Jon peeled the glove off his left hand and touched the nearest haunch of venison. He could feel his fingers sticking, and when he pulled them back he lost a bit of skin. His fingertips were numb. What did you expect? There’s a mountain of ice above your head, more tons than even Bowen Marsh could count. Even so, the room felt colder than it should. “It is worse than I feared, my lord,” Marsh announced when he was done. He sounded gloomier than Dolorous Edd. Jon had just been thinking that all the meat in the world surrounded them. You know nothing, Jon Snow. “How so? This seems a deal of food to me.”

[ADWD; Jon IV]

Jon takes his glove off and loses skin and maybe it gets even bloody?

In this chapter Jon is having problems with finding food and it is safe to assume that dragons are a threat to realm’s supplies.

Jon thinks their best hope is untouched Eyrie- where his Tully cousin hides as a bastard: (source: Best Hope is in Eyrie)

“If we had sufficient coin, we could buy food from the south and bring it in by ship,” the Lord Steward said. We could, thought Jon, if we had the gold, and someone willing to sell us food. Both of those were lacking. Our best hope may be the Eyrie. The Vale of Arryn was famously fertile and had gone untouched during the fighting. Jon wondered how Lady Catelyn’s sister would feel about feeding Ned Stark’s bastard. As a boy, he often felt as if the lady grudged him every bite.

[ADWD; Jon IV]

He once again chooses his Stark family in this chapter:

Which would you have as Lord of Winterfell, Snow? The smiler or the slayer?” Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

[ADWD; Jon IV]

C) ADWD; Daenerys VII & Jon IX:

Daenerys VII:

This is Dany’s wedding chapter and she learns about her father’s jealousy about married cousins Tywin and Joanna and she also thinks about a love between a Targaryen prince and a Stark lady:

“I want to know. I never knew my father. I want to know everything about him. The good and … the rest.” “As you command.” The white knight chose his words with care. “Prince Aerys … as a youth, he was taken with a certain lady of Casterly Rock, a cousin of Tywin Lannister. When she and Tywin wed, your father drank too much wine at the wedding feast and was heard to say that it was a great pity that the lord’s right to the first night had been abolished. A drunken jape, no more, but Tywin Lannister was not a man to forget such words, or the … the liberties your father took during the bedding.” His face reddened. “I have said too much, Your Grace. I—”

[...]

If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly.

[ADWD; Daenerys VII]

Tywin betrayed Aerys and Rhaegar’s love for Lyanna caused a big trouble for the realm...

And we know that Daenerys is still waiting for a BETRAYAL FOR LOVE.

The voices were growing louder, she realized, and it seemed her heart was slowing, and even her breath… three treasons will you know… once for blood and once for gold and once for love…

[…]

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness… mother of dragons, bride of fire…

[ACOK; Daenerys IV]

And next chapter is Jon who is a secret Targaryen and the son of Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark.

So Jon comes after betrayer Tywin. (betrayal)

He is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna.. (love)

Who is the cousin?

Well A SISTER comes to him in this chapter:

A grey girl on a dying horse. Melisandre’s fires had not lied, it would seem.

[ADWD; Jon IX]

According to Melisandre’s vision this “grey girl” should have been Jon’s sister but Alys Karstark came to him.

“I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.”

[ADWD; Jon VI]

But in truth Jon’s only sister Rhaenys is dead and the only sisters Jon knows are his COUSINS actually.

Which cousin? The one that fits into the “grey girl” prophecy. Sansa Stark... Who is now facing a new marriage.

According to fan made reading order for AFFC & ADWD: (source: AFFC&ADWD reading order)

ADWD; Jon IX chapter is following AFFC; Alayne II chapter where she learns about Petyr’s plans of marrying her with Harry Hardyng.

So according to same reading order, this Alayne chapter comes between this Daenerys chapter and Jon chapter.

[About Jon and Sansa being Dany’s betrayal for love and doom please read: Jon x Sansa Book Hints: B4, D4, E6 ]

So the fake grey girl that comes after Dany chapter gives us the clues of Dany’s last betrayal for love by pointing out two cousins who are a Targaryen prince and a Stark lady.

Let’s continue with ADWD; Jon IX:

Queen Selyse descended upon Castle Black with her daughter and her daughter’s fool, her serving girls and lady companions, and a retinue of knights, sworn swords, and men-at-arms fifty strong. Queen’s men all, Jon Snow knew. They may attend Selyse, but it is Melisandre they serve.

[ADWD; Jon IX]

We know that Jon dislikes Queen Selyse and he knows that she is actually a puppet of Melisandre.

In one of his ADWD chapters he describes Selyse like this:

A word from Melisandre, and she would walk into the fire willingly, embrace it like a lover.

[ADWD; Jon X]

This description reminds me Daenerys Targaryen.

Who did walk into flames willingly and embrace it like a lover? Daenerys Targaryen:

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought.

[…]

And now the flames reached her Drogo, and now they were all around him. [...] Part of her wanted to go to him as Ser Jorah had feared, to rush into the flames to beg for his forgiveness and take him inside her one last time, the fire melting the flesh from their bones until they were as one, forever.

[…]

A rising heat puffed at her face, soft and sudden as a lover’s breath…

[AGOT; Daenerys X]

The interesting thing is that a Daenerys chapter follows this Jon X chapter where he describes Selyse.

Let’s keep reading Jon IX:

If he is not a kinslayer, he is the next best thing. Axell Florent’s brother had been burned by Melisandre, Maester Aemon had informed him, yet Ser Axell had done little and less to stop it. What sort of man can stand by idly and watch his own brother being burned alive?

[ADWD; Jon IX]

another Daenerys hint: Dany-Viserys or Jon killing his kin maybe?

“Salladhor Saan?” “The Lysene pirate? Some say he has returned to his old haunts, this is so. And Lord Redwyne’s war fleet creeps through the Broken Arm as well. On its way home, no doubt. But these men and their ships are well-known to us. No, these other sails … from farther east, perhaps … one hears queer talk of dragons.” “Would that we had one here. A dragon might warm things up a bit.” “My lord jests. You will forgive me if I do not laugh. We Braavosi are descended from those who fled Valyria and the wroth of its dragonlords. We do not jape of dragons.” No, I suppose not. “My apologies, Lord Tycho.”

[ADWD; Jon IX]

Jon is warned against dragons.

D) ADWD; Daenerys IX & Jon XI:

Daenerys IX

Dizzy, Dany closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she glimpsed the Meereenese beneath her through a haze of tears and dust, pouring up the steps and out into the streets. The lash was still in her hand. She flicked it against Drogon’s neck and cried, “Higher!” Her other hand clutched at his scales, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Drogon’s wide black wings beat the air. Dany could feel the heat of him between her thighs. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. Yes, she thought, yes, now, now, do it, do it, take me, take me, FLY!

[ADWD; Daenerys IX]

Daenerys rides Drogon for the first time and this looks like an orgasmic experience but don’t let it fool you: people in Meereen are not happy because they are dying etc...

Next chapter is realm’s shield Jon:

Jon XI

Jon clasped the offered hand. The words of his oath rang through his head. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. And for him a new refrain: I am the guard who opened the gates and let the foe march through. He would have given much and more to know that he was doing the right thing. But he had gone too far to turn back. “Done and done,” he said.

[ADWD; Jon XI]

He remembers his oath about protecting the realm.

He thinks Ghost (his Stark side) is the only protection he needs:

Ghost was the only protection Jon needed; the direwolf could sniff out foes, even those who hid their enmity behind smiles.

[ADWD; Jon XI]

Jon wants to scream that fire obsessed queen is not his queen. And he wants Selyse and Melisandre gone.

[Stannis + Melisandre + Selyse = Daenerys]

Val’s playful smile died. “You have my word, Lord Snow. I will be a proper wildling princess for your queen.” She is not my queen, he might have said. If truth be told, the day of her departure cannot come too fast for me. And if the gods are good, she will take Melisandre with her.

[ADWD; Jon XI]

A northern princess doesn’t bend the knee to fire obsessed queen:

“The queen’s face hardened. “A grievous oversight.” What faint traces of warmth her voice had held vanished all at once. “Free folk do not kneel,” Val told her. “Then they must be knelt,” the queen declared.“Do that, Your Grace, and we will rise again at the first chance,” Val promised. “Rise with blades in hand.”

[ADWD; Jon XI]

Jon remembers his Night’s Watch oath AGAIN:

“I know what I swore.” Jon said the words. “I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. Were those the same words you said when you took your vows?”

[ADWD; Jon XI]

So as we can see Daenerys’ bonding with her dragon doesn’t seem like a good omen for Westeros. But at least we have our shield and warrior: Jon SNOW.

We are done with the chapters that follow each other but I am going to look at Daenerys’ last POV in ADWD too:

BONUS:

ADWD; Daenerys X:

A wolf howls when she thinks about her betrayals and it makes her sad and lonely but not less hungry:

Yet who else could it have been? Reznak, her perfumed seneschal? The Yunkai’i? The Sons of the Harpy? Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep.

[ADWD; Daenerys X]

Ants, which are coming from a WALL, bite Dany:

It turned out that their anthill was on the other side of her wall. She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.

[ADWD; Daenerys X]

Wolves and crows are not good signs for her:

My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb.

[ADWD; Daenerys X]

She embraces “Fire and Blood”:

No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words. “Fire and Blood,” Daenerys told the swaying grass.

[ADWD; Daenerys X]

In conclusion: Daenerys will be dangerous for Westeros. It seems like Jon and Starks will be against Daenerys at some point and in the end Daenerys will meet her doom because of them..

Thanks for reading...

#this version is shorther and easier to follow.#I cut the Sansa parts because ı already talk about those in other posts so I only gave the sources for Sansa parts.#asoiaf #mine #meta #jon vs daenerys #adwd #jon snow vs daenerys targaryen #dance of the dragons 2.0 #dod 2.0

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a-libra-writes · 5 years ago

Text

How the GoT Characters React To Your Kidnapping

No one asked for this & its another weirdly specific long one, bc this is westeros and shit aint sunshine and roses so idk lets just do this oh gods why is it so long

To the Gendry & Mance anons: i got u, fam ♡

In this preference, you'll be rescued by: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jamie Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion, Gendry

NED STARK

It happened many years ago, but the incident still gave you shivers when you recalled it. It was at the height of Robert’s rebellion, when fighting and chaos was at every House’s doorstep. Your family supported Robert wholly; your father and brothers had been away at war since the beginning. You were maintaining your family’s keep in your father’s stead. The Riverlands was a bloody battleground, and you made a point to visit neighboring keeps and their smallfolk to offer food and shelter in your own castle. You were returning from one of these trips when you were taken by brigands wishing to ransom you.

Your father was riding with Ned when he heard the news, and he made it clear he wouldn’t continue on until his only daughter was found. Ned had befriended him in the time they’d fought, and agreed to help. Together they traced the trail you took to the fishing villages, and soon found which abandoned house you were being held in.

You were filthy, exhausted and hungry at that point, and afraid of the sound of fighting you heard outside the door. Then the door opened and a tall Northman came in, gently asking if you were okay and carefully untying the bindings around your wrists and ankles. You remember how Ned wrapped his cloak around your ripped dress and picked you up so gently. He set you on his horse and rode behind you, asking a few questions as you two rode back, like how you were faring and if the horse was going too fast for you. Back at your Keep, he insisted on carrying you to the Maester, all while your parents thanked him. They let Ned and his host of soldiers recover at their castle, even if food was low, and Ned visited you each day to check on you. You kept his cloak curled around you as you watched the Stark host finally leave. Even well after you two met and courted, and finally married in the godswood at Winterfell, you kept that cloak with you. Ned didn’t know, but you liked wrapping up in it when he had to leave for a long time.

ROBB STARK

It happened at the worst possible moment, in the midst of the chaos of the war. You insisted on accompanying his war camp through the battles, in spite of the danger to yourself. You were newly married, but you didn’t want to hide away in Winterfell. Robb was grateful for the counsel you provided, even if he worried for your safety. You were surrounded by soldiers, you should have been safe. Should have been.

Once Robb discovered you were well and truly gone, with your personal guards found dead, all he could see was red. The young wolf immediately went to gather men and scouts, ignoring the lords who told him to leave the rescuing to soldiers. Robb couldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you - he couldn’t keep fighting the war knowing his wife was in danger, and he’d run himself ragged to find you. Grey Wind caught onto your scent and within just a few hours, they found the makeshift camp you were being held at. You gasped as Grey Wind jumped at the man beside you, tearing at his throat, and Robb wasted little time in dismounting and following his wolf. While his men took care of the remaining kidnappers, he threw his arms around you and pulled you into a crushing hug.

Once you were back at camp, Robb had you looked after, buzzing with anxiety the whole time. He’d be adamant about sending you to Winterfell for your safety, wanting his mother to go along with you. Even if you’d try to argue with Robb, he’d truthfully tell you he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. He’d rather miss you until the war ended than grieve you for the rest of his life.

SANSA STARK

Upon hearing about your kidnapping, Sansa immediately felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t believe such a thing could happen to you - she remembered the last conversation you two had, what you wore, the jokes you both laughed at, the last kiss you shared. It was jarring to contrast that with some terrifying dungeon, and for the next few weeks she could hardly sleep or eat, constantly replaying those memories and thinking of them as “the last”. She didn’t care who tormented her, whether it be Joffrey or Cersei or anyone else. Sansa’s mind was too occupied with terrible thoughts of how afraid you must be and if you were hurt.

She heard rumors of your rescue, and that manifested into your arrival back at King’s Landing. She awaited you anxiously, thinking of what to say, worrying about what you endured. Finally, when Sansa saw you arrive at the Red Keep, all thoughts left her mind. Forgetting decorum, she pulled you into a hug, and even though you were still aching from your captivity, you held her back with as much emotion and strength.

When the two of you finally got some time alone, and she leaned against you and held your hand as you explained all that happened. From that point, she’d try to be at your side as much as possible, and feeling like she had to appreciate each day with you in case something terrible happened to either of you. Anytime you noticed her worried expression, you’d kiss her brow and reassure her, and she’d just shake her head, insisting that she ought to be the one comforting you.

BENJEN STARK

You’d wanted to accompany him on a mission for months, and he let you go on small trips here or there, but never anything like this. Accompanied with three other brothers, the four of you were assigned an important task by the Lord Commander. In spite of the seriousness, Benjen teased you like he always did, and even risked being cheeky, since the other two brothers knew your gender and your relationship with him. They’d just roll their eyes and joke along with you. It felt freeing to be beyond the wall, and you enjoyed the expanse of snow and trees so much, you forgot about the danger.

You and one of the brothers split off from the group to investigate some odd tracks. It turned out to be a trap, and while he was killed quickly, you put up a fight and were dragged off. The wildlings recognized you as the “little crow” who followed Benjen around, and since he had killed one of their leaders months before, they wanted revenge. It wasn’t until much later that Benjen and the brothers found the corpse the wildlings left, and a shredded piece of cloak you left behind for them. Benjen’s face became unrecognizable as he steeled himself for the worst, and urged the men on the trail. He tried pushing aside his regrets and anger at himself as they followed the tracks in the snow and the small things you left for them, like small rocks or an odd shape in the snow.

They came upon the wildling camp as the sun set, and you used the chaos to escape your bindings and steal one of the wildling’s clubs to help the fight. Once it was over, Benjen wasted no time in pulling you into a painfully tight embrace. The wildlings hadn’t done more than threaten you and hit you a few times, but he kissed you in relief several times anyway. All the tension seemed to leave his body as you held his face and reassured him. As the rest of you brought your slain brother’s body back to Castle Black, Benjen still kept you close at hand. You two knew the dangers of what was beyond the wall, so while Benjen eventually relaxed after a few weeks, it was still an unpleasant fright that he tried not to dwell on.

JON SNOW

Your family visited Winterfell often, what with your mother being friends with Lady Stark and living so close. From an early age you were friends with Jon, Robb and Theon, always running about and getting into trouble with your mother. Especially now that you were a lady, she scolded, you couldn’t talk with whichever boys you wanted. Jon was always different to you, though. You couldn’t imagine not being with him, and he felt much the same, even if you both struggled to express it. Jon was determined to spend as much time with you before he left for the Wall, and you would do the same before you were married off to whoever.

Jon knew you wanted to explore Winter Town today, and he couldn’t accompany you, so he waited impatiently for you to get back with your cousin and one guard. It was late in the evening, and both he and your parents began to worry. It was discovered your guard was slain, and you and the cousin were missing. Ned gathered several men to lead the search with your father, and Jon didn’t shy away as he all but demanded to be allowed to look as well. He wasted no time in giving Ghost a handkerchief to track you, and soon the men were following the direwolf through Winter Town. Ghost’s nose led him to a shack well outside of town, where the men wasted little time in surrounding it and pulling out the failed kidnappers.

Jon thanked the gods they hadn’t done anything terrible to you, and he was the one who untied your bindings and carefully dabbed your bleeding lip. You rode back on his horse, and he carefully helped you down and guided you to Maester Luwin, as much as it upset your mother. You asked him to stay beside you as Maester Luwin checked over your bruises and applied a balm to your broken lip. Well after your parents had left, Jon risked escorting you to your room, where you gave him a sweet kiss in spite of the pain it brought you.

JORY CASSEL

A lady was supposed to stay in place and entertain, but you were often restless, especially since your brothers could go where they pleased. One of them finally gave into your pleading and took you with him to Winter Town. Your brothers ended up leaving you to enjoy the brothel, and you enjoyed the freedom to explore the town as you wished. Unfortunately, your fine dress and warm cloak caught the wrong kind of attention. When they finally noticed you were missing, they couldn’t be sure how long it had been.

Rushing back to Winterfell, they went to Jory first. He was skilled and he could get a small handful of men to listen to him - and hopefully, keep quiet about it to your parents. Jory was livid, trying to keep his cool as he swept through Winter Town. It was getting dark, and worry was eating him alive. The attempted kidnappers were sloppy, luckily, and hadn’t gone far. They were no match for trained Winterfell men, and Jory had them taken alive so they could be judged by his lord.

Before that, he had to take care of you. Jory wrapped his fur around you and held you close, patting your hair and asking how you were. They hadn’t done anything, thank the gods, and you trusted his men not to say anything about the secret relationship you two carried on. Once you were back at Winterfell, he visited your chambers in the evening to keep reassuring you, although his relief and worry was evident.

DOLOROUS EDD

He'd told you not to come on the expedition, he'd told the senior officers not to bring you. You two actually argued about it, and you joined the expedition out of spite. Edd had an awful feeling that something was going to go wrong, and it did. You accompanied a small scouting party, and the three of you hadn’t been heard from in days. To say he felt sick would be an understatement. He brought it up with Jon first, looking as dismal as he felt, and his friend managed to send Ghost on the trail. A day later, the wolf didn’t bring good news. Ghost handed his master a bloodied glove, not your’s, but one of the brothers you left with.

Sam and Jon tried to assure him, but Edd couldn’t keep the darkest thoughts out of his head. He assumed the worst, accepting that you were gone, even if his brothers were positive the scouts were taken, not killed. That was hardly better. When you and the two brothers returned, having escaped your wildlings captors, Edd bit his lip until it bled to hide just how relieved he was. Hiding your gender and your relationship with him meant he couldn’t run up and squeeze the air out of your lungs and tell you that he knew something terrible would happen, and it did, and he couldn’t ask you to strip away a few layers to make absolutely sure you were alright. So, he did this as soon as you two were back at Castle Black.

Hiding away in a small dingy room, you’d try to coax the worried, tight expression on Edd’s face as you assured him you only had a few bruises and scratches. He’d sigh heavily and pull you in an embrace, which made it difficult to put your clothes back on, but he didn’t budge. He’d be morose for a while, keeping close to you while you worked to make extra sure you were alright.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

It wasn’t just your beauty, but your ability to fight that drew Tormund to you. He had an utmost respect for your abilities, so when you were sent on this or that mission, he didn’t worry for your safety - he just frowned that he wasn’t going with you. Tormund didn’t worry when the group of free folk you left with hadn’t been heard from in a few days. This was unpredictable land, after all. The trouble came when scouts came back, reporting that most of the group was found dead, but your corpse was nowhere to be found. They suspected crows, who had been on the move in the area.

That’s when Tormund was ready to spur to action and join the group looking to retrieve you. While they were worried you’d give up information to the crows, he knew you’d die rather than betray your comrades, and that’s what filled him with anxiety and anger. Tormund led the men himself, urging them on through the icy tundra. He was hedging his bets on the crows being soft and keeping you alive.

They found the crow camp and Tormund had to keep himself from just barrelling straight toward you. As the fight began, Tormund was able to cut his sword across your bindings so you could join in. Even if you had a cut on your face, you didn’t seem worse for wear. Once the crows were dealt with, Tormund was quick to pull you in his arms and loudly tell you how relieved he was, adding with a laugh that he knew the crows couldn’t handle such a woman. He’d plan a careful kiss on your brow and look after any wounds you had before you two would return to Mance’s camp, where Tormund would announce to everyone that you were back, and proudly bragged about the beating you delivered to the crows once he cut you free.

MANCE RAYDER

While he loved your cleverness the best, Mance couldn’t deny you had a lovely grace when you fought. It was unlike the other free folk, who stabbed or bludgeoned or slashed until the thing was dead. You were a born fighter, a good one, and you gladly took the jobs that had you in the thick of it. He rarely worried when there was possibility of danger on one of your missions, because you weren’t worried yourself. However, the tribe you were visiting had a terrible reputation, and he told you as much. Mance wanted to go with you, but you were sure you and your men could handle it.

You hadn’t been heard from in some days, and Mance had a gut feeling that he wasn’t comfortable with. That was confirmed when your weapon and the head of your men was sent back to him, with a clear message that the tribe wouldn’t join his army. The fact they hadn’t sent your head was little comfort. Mance gathered his best men and rode out at once, his face stony and his eyes betraying the terrible fear gnawing at his heart.

When they came upon the camp, it was a hard fight, and Mance grasped the leader by the throat as he demanded where you were. You were carelessly left in one of their tents, bound and suffering more than a few injuries. Mance untied you, wrapped you in his arms and assured you that you’d be home soon. Back at the main camp, he tended to your wounds in your shared tent, rinsing them with warm water, good-smelling balms and soothing you in a soft voice.

THEON GREYJOY

You spent plenty of time at Winterfell, usually playing with Sansa and Jeyne, but Theon was fond of teasing you just to see your cute face flush and yell at him. He wasn’t always a jerk. He’d been helping you work on your archery, and you two could talk on and on about horses. He knew your parents and Lady Stark didn’t approve of your friendship with him, so he always got a little thrill when he stole your attention. Of course, he insisted to Robb and Jon that you were the one with the crush.

His cocky attitude disappeared quickly when your parents came running to Lord Stark in a panic, explaining you were taken right outside their keep and they were delivered a terrible ransom note. Theon joined Robb and Ned on the search for you, trying to still his hammering heart as they followed the scent hounds. He was trying not to think of all the awful things that could be happening to you, and spurred his horse faster once the hounds picked up a scent.

He and Robb were the first ones to ride on the camp and attack the kidnappers. Ned had to remind him to leave them alive to face their punishment - Theon was too eager in beating them to a pulp, and he felt they should be killed on the spot. You were tied up and dirty, but still alright, and Theon hoped because he was the first one to come to your aid, that you’d ride back on his horse. You rode with Lord Stark back to Winterfell, and Theon sat outside Maester Luwin’s room as the old man looked over your injuries. It was hard to act like an ass when you were so tired and shaken, so he sat at the foot of your bed and tried to make you laugh instead.

YARA GREYJOY

She heard news that your host of men had encountered trouble, but Yara didn’t worry like an old woman. She trusted your skills and abilities, and you weren’t the type to want some honorable death in battle. Then she received the message - a warning from the Northmen who took you. She sighed, picked up her axe, gathered a half dozen men and left Deepwood Motte to get your sorry butt. Yara wasn’t going to let you live this down.

She found where they were holding you in a good amount of time, and you bitched out Yara as she walked in the room laughing. You headbutt her in annoyance once she untied you. The Northmen had tried to interrogate you on the Ironborn’s plans, but like Yara expected, you were made of tougher stuff. Still, she didn’t like to see the bruises on your arms and wrists, or your swollen lip and cut brow. While her men stole what they wanted from the hideout, she took a moment to take you aside and take care of those little wounds. You hissed and she told you to stop bitching, even as she carefully patted at your brow and lip.

During the next few days, when you'd laugh then wince from your lip or shift uncomfortably from the bruises, Yara would slip an arm around your waist and hand you a drink. She'd try to be subtle about touching you more carefully in bed and kissing your lips with less firmness. She didn't want you to feel coddled and mother henned after, but she didn't like seeing her girl hurting so much, either.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

To say she was angry was… an understatement. All of the Free Cities would hear of her wrath once she discovered you were taken by her enemies. There would be no negotiating or ransom, period - She’d call for Jorah, Barristan, the Unsullied - everyone to look for you, to find the ones responsible, to get anyone with information. Once you were found, she’d take you into a suffocating hug. Barristan would have to remind her that you needed to be tended to, and she’d hold you just a little longer before reluctantly handing you to him.

While you were being helped, she’d gather all the culprits in a public space and give them a proper execution with her dragons, a clear warning to anyone with similar ideas. Even after that, she’d be buzzing with anger and once she was calmed, the worry and anxiety would set in.

As your wounds were cared for, she’d ask the care-taker if they were sure about what they were doing, then she’d want to test your food, then bathe and dress you, insisting you to be still and not help. Once you were in bed, she’d still want to keep you in a close hug, insisting that you were safe now and it wouldn’t happen again, but you were sure she was trying to convince herself and not you.

For the next several days, or even weeks and months, Daenerys would insist you not leave her side, or if you did, you’d have several Unsullied for protection. She’d become quite over-protective, and when you’d express that it was getting to be too much, she’d admit she never wanted to feel that fear of losing you again.

JORAH MORMONT

He noticed you hadn’t been back from your scouting on time, and after an extra hour passed, he began to worry. You two weren’t just lovers, you were protectors of Daenerys, and you always promptly returned from the duties she gave you. When Jorah’s suspicions were confirmed and he learned you were taken by Daenerys’ enemies, he wasted little time in gathering a group of Unsullied to help retrieve you. However, it was Jorah himself who cut through most of the kidnappers once they found the hideout. While the Unsullied finished up, Jorah beelined to where they kept you.

Since you had kicked one kidnapper senseless and nearly bit the ear off another, they’d had you painfully bound and gagged. The adrenaline was leaving Jorah quickly as his shaky hands pulled you free, and you were pulled into his embrace so quickly, it made you dizzy. You were going to tell him not to hold so tight, but your exhaustion caught up with you and Jorah carried you all the way back to the Great Pyramid. Once you two were back at your shared rooms, he immediately began fretting and worrying, wanting to give you a hot bath and a good meal and soft clothes, completely ignoring his own exhausting and the blood on his cheek and hands. You were only able to calm Jorah down by pulling him into the bath with you, and even then he was apologetic, thinking it was his fault in some way. You kissed him until that sorrowful look finally faded, and he took care of any need you had that evening. For the next few weeks Jorah was quite dogged about following you around and insisted on going with you during your patrols and investigations. Sometimes it was a bit too much, but you noticed how he kept looking at the bruises on your wrists or the cut on your forehead that was taking a long time to heal, and you let him tag along.

MISSANDEI

She didn't want to believe such a thing happened. While Missandei initially feared for your safety when you went out into Meereen's streets, she'd become more comfortable because of your training with Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah. And today you left with several Unsullied, but that hadn't helped. The report came back that you'd been taken by enemies of Daenerys, and Missandei's heart sunk into her stomach as she thought about what could happen. She couldn't even pretend to be alright.

So she waited, feeling sick and buzzing with nerves, unable to do more than pace. When Daenerys herself came to tell her the news that you were recovered, and your wounds were being tended to, Missandei collapsed with relief. She waited impatiently until you were finished, trying to gather herself, but all the strength left when she saw you sitting up in bed, fresh bruises and wounds on your body. You pulled Missandei into your arms and comforted her, already feeling comforted by her warm presence. Once you wiped her tears and she took a deep breath, Missandei was quick to make sure you had everything you needed.

She'd continue to tend to you herself, bringing you food, drink and checking your wounds. You'd notice her gloomy expression and try to cheer her, and several times she'd make you promise to be more careful once you were better. Well after your wounds healed, and you announced you were patrolling again. An unmistakable look of worry crossed Missandei's face, and she only smiled after you kissed her and reassured her.

GREY WORM

He preferred it when you patrolled together, both because you two made a good team, and it was the best way to make sure you were safe. On the days when you two had separate patrols and duties, Grey Worm would seek you out once he was finished. Normally, finding you was no problem - he knew your usual routes and you often told him what your duties were beforehand. But this time, he was having trouble finding you in the winding streets of Mereen. He didn’t worry at first, but after searching for some time, Grey Worm was beginning to get a bad feeling. He trusted his gut instincts and he just knew something was off.

That feeling was confirmed when he found your weapon buried in the chest of a thug, both carelessly left in an alley. Grey Worm knew you’d never leave your favorite weapon behind, and the scene had signs of a struggle. He gathered several of his men together and with a rigid determination, set to tracking you down. Even if he was steady in giving his orders, his heart pounded with a frightening feeling he’d never experienced before. It made his stomach churn, but he pressed on.

When they found you, it was just in time. Since you had killed one of their men and given another a hard beating, the kidnappers were ready to hurt you even more than they planned. Grey Worm and his Unsullied comrades dealt with them, and as soon as the last spear was shoved in the last one’s neck, Grey Worm was immediately at your side. He insisted on carrying you back, and he watched the person tending to your wounds with sharp eyes. You had to pat Grey Worm’s hand and tell him to take a deep breath and relax. Your wounds weren’t the worst you’d ever experienced, but he was still tense in the next few days, and asked that you stay home until your wounds were totally healed.

TYWIN LANNISTER

It would take a fool to kidnap the wife of Tywin Lannister, but it happened all the same. Your captors were confident he'd give up all sorts of riches for you, but you were anxious, worrying what sort of wrath he'd unleash - or worse, if he was coming for you at all. You tried keeping that thought from you as you stayed in captivity. It was sudden when the rescue came, Lannister men easily slaughtering your captors. You shook in fear as Ser Gregor of all people led them. A soldier carefully helped you to your feet and led to a large tent. As the captives screamed behind you, you were checked for wounds, given food and drink, and dressed in new clothing. The soldier explained that Lord Tywin was sending for you, as if you were just being picked up from visiting a friend. Still in a daze, you were hastily brought back to Casterly Rock in great comfort.

Once you arrived, you were again immediately attended to. Handmaidens gave you a fine nightgown you don’t remember owning, your bed had additional pillows and you were brought your favorite foods and drink. It was all a little overwhelming, so you sent them all away, and curled in bed, wondering where Tywin was. You were stirred from a deep sleep, feeling fingers running across your cheek and hair. You awoke sleepily, and it was odd to see that gentle expression on his face as he sat next to you on the bed, but you could tell he was trying to be stern and calm as he asked after your condition. Tywin would be adamant about you getting proper rest, and you could tell he was holding something back, but soon you were falling back asleep, still feeling the fingers running along your skin.

In the next weeks you’d have guards always following you, handmaidens attending to anything you needed, and he’d keep you close in public, when he could. In private, he’d handle you with care, and hold you much closer when you two were in bed. One sudden night he’d apologize, saying he failed, assuring you that it absolutely wouldn’t happen again. It was a vulnerability he rarely showed, making you realize the experience rattled him as much as it did you.

TYRION LANNISTER

It was wrong of him to assume that just because you two were betrothed - the marriage arranged by Tywin, no less - that you’d be safe from Cersei’s wrath. You were subtle when you defied her, just enough that she knew you were being insolent, yet careful so she couldn’t openly punish you. Tyrion warned you about treading this fine line, even if he admired and loved your courage. It was bold of his sister, downright foolish, and she’d learn that. She’d learn what it would mean to cross him like this, but for now, he was single-mindedly focused on finding you.

He didn’t anticipate her men would kill you, as that would ruin the alliance between his and your’s, but things were worse than death. Tyrion gathered all the hill clansmen he had and a group of city guards to sweep King’s Landing, and he’d even call in a favor with Varys to find out if the spider knew anything. The moment they found you, he wanted to know - the idea of you being hurt and alone made him sick with fear.

Bronn and a few of his men were the ones who found the small room you were being kept in. Tyrion came at once and had you quietly escorted to a lovely chateau outside of the Red Keep. He brought you everything you could want; food and drink, lovely dresses, a luxurious bed where a maester he trusted attended to your minor wounds. He tried to hide just how anxious he was as he explained you should stay here for a while, with several guards he trusted. While you rested and recovered, he was more than ready to enact the revenge he’d been stewing on.

JAIME LANNISTER

When you didn’t show to the usual secret spot that you two met in during the afternoon, nor in the evening, Jaime immediately felt anxiety brewing. Had you two finally been caught? Was Cersei on your trail, so you were avoiding him? The next day came, and by the second evening your absence was finally noticed by several others. It was a kidnapping, your family claimed, and they had evidence. Jaime was furious with himself at the time he wasted, but he knew he couldn’t leave the Red Keep. He went to Tyrion, shocking his younger brother with how he almost begged for help in finding you.

The kidnappers hadn’t had the smarts to leave King’s Landing yet. He wasted no time in cutting through them, a sort of ferocity that didn’t often come to him when he fought, and he finally had you in his arms again. It was only two days, only two days, but it felt like longer. It could’ve been longer, or forever, if his sister was truly behind this and wanted a way to have you killed. You had to gently ask Jaime to not hold so tight, and that snapped him out of it.

Once you were brought back and cared for under a maester he trusted, one who could keep quiet, Jaime didn’t want to bring to your family yet. Tired as you were, you tried to remind him of his sister and his duty, and you were shocked how he didn’t care. He’d stay with you even if you shoved him away, which you didn’t. You were too tired to argue,, and allowed yourself to rest against his chest as you fell asleep. In the next few weeks he’d visit you often, to the point where even Cersei was noticing his distance and you had to remind Jaime not to be so reckless.

SANDOR CLEGANE

Gods damn it all, you told him. You tried to tell him. You talked of the enemies your family was making, the threats they gave your mother and father. Sandor insisted as long as you stayed in the Red Keep and “didn’t run off to do stupid shit”, you’d be fine. When he didn’t see you for some time one day, he didn’t think much of it - you both were hiding your relationship, and sometimes that meant staying away to keep off suspicion, as much as he hated it. Then your disappearance was brought up by your parents at court, and Cersei more or less dismissed them. Sandor offered to look for you, but he was shot down. Later, he told one of the other kingsguards to watch Joffrey, and when the man argued, Sandor grabbed his neck and nearly throttled him.

Once he was free of the Red Keep, he scoured through the shady streets of King’s Landing, places he knew well, going off information your parents had and daring himself to hope. The kidnappers had you in a little hovel that he broke through with little regard for his own safety. You heard him, and the sounds of men dying as he cut through them. It wasn’t his usual detached killing; you heard distinct agony as the men were harshly wounded and thrown aside. When he all but tore down the door to the room you were in, you ignored your pain to run and fling your arms around him.

He should’ve taken you straight back to the Red Keep, to a maester and your parents, but his body moved on its own. He took you to the small house he owned, just outside the Keep. You had scrapes and bruises, a nasty knot on your head, and you both were quiet as he did what he could. You stayed with him the rest of the day and evening, and Sandor let you hold him as tight and as often as you wanted. He hated that he didn’t heed your words, and the thought that you may have been raped or killed had shocked him into something of an angry, sullen silence that only your comforts and soft kisses could pull him from.

BRONN

When he heard about your kidnapping from Tyrion, he nearly dropped the wine he was drinking, and when Tyrion confirmed it he tossed it aside as he jumped up from the table. You had mentioned some enemies your family was making, and he had brushed it off and reassured you, positive you were safe in the Red Keep. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t there to protect you, and cursed himself endlessly as he led the search and rescue for you. Much of Bronn’s humor would be gone, and he’d take it upon himself to do most of the searching.

He tore through the kidnappers with his men, and as soon as he saw you, he sheathed his sword and pulled you in his arms. Regardless of your condition, Bronn would feel all the tension leave his body because you were alive. He’d have a smirk and give you an overly-confident reassurance, as if he wasn’t making himself sick with worry the past few days.

You’d both ride his horse, with you in front of him and his arms wrapped around you as much as he possibly could. He’d still try to remain casual, attempting conversation, giving reassurances that you’d both be home soon. Your tired silence unsettled him. Finally he’d just kiss your cheek and mumble how sorry he was for not getting there sooner.

Once you two were back and you were cared for, Bronn was quite protective in the next few months, often shirking his Kingsguard duties to follow you around personally, and you’d notice when you two were intimate he’d be attempting to be gentle of your wounds, a side to him you’d never seen before.

PETYR BAELISH

Petyr blamed himself completely when it happened. There were quiet rumors and distant whispers he heard, your family had upset several Houses and created enemies, and you were a possible target. He took measures to protect you, of course - more of his spies watching you, a few incognito guards that would make sure you made it to your room safely. It wasn’t enough, and the culprits struck faster than he anticipated. Petyr set out to correct his mistake at once.

Your family was considering leaving you to your fate, and he wouldn’t forgive them for it, but ... he’d deal with them at a later time.

For now, Petyr used a considerable amount of his resources to find who took you, and where you were. Normally he would stay distant and let other men do his dirty work, but Petyr wanted you by his side as soon as possible. His plans of a grand rescue, rehearsed words, some sort of gallant action, went completely out the window when he finally had his arms around you again. Not trusting your family or anyone else, Petyr would bring you to his private suite in his brothel, personally tending to any injuries himself and giving you sweet reassurances. If they were serious, he’d call a maester, but otherwise he’d want you all to himself.

You’d notice Petyr would become increasingly more protective, insisting it would never happen again, as if trying to reassure himself more than you. He’d absolutely threaten your family behind your back, trying to contain his anger as he considered punishing them with some made-up treason or strong-arming them into allowing him to marry you. Perhaps he could have both, especially if you were already taken with him.

STANNIS BARATHEON

Once he received word that you’d been taken, the tension and anger in Stannis’ body was so fierce and immediate, his men thought you had been reported dead. Finding the culprits and retrieving you safely became his utmost priority, and as the days would pass, he’d sleep and eat less. He’d grind his teeth until his jaw ached and would struggle to wait for news; he’d have to be held back from just going after you himself. He’d implore Melisandre to try something to find you, and once you were located, Davos would be the only person Stannis trusted to get you back to him safely.

When you’d finally reunite, you’d be shocked at the strong embrace your husband would pull you into. It was almost be painful, and he’d bury his face in your hair and struggle to express his relief. Stannis would then pass you to a maester, who would check you over, and he’d stare at the both of you with intensity, making sure any injury, no matter if it was just a bruise, was found and tended to. You’d be able to finally rest in your bed again, and you’d wake up to Stannis asking if he could stay with you. Of course you’d accept, seeing how exhausted he looked. Stannis would climb in with you and bring you close to him, and you’d notice in the next few days how deeply he’d sleep and how tightly he’d keep an arm around you.

In the morning and following days, he’d want you to be by his side as often as possible. He’d occasionally stop whatever he was doing and look over you, sternly fretting about your wounds and sending you to the maester for the dozenth time. From then on, you’d be followed by a regular guard if you weren’t by his side. He wouldn’t budge on this, and when you finally expressed that he was being perhaps too over protective, Stannis would frankly tell you that he didn’t want to suffer a scare like that ever again. You could’ve been lost to him forever, and he failed in his duty as your husband to protect you.Right there, he’d take your hand and swear to you it wouldn’t happen again.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

He wasn't the first person to know, and that made his heart ache. Of course he wasn't - your relationship was secret, and your father wouldn't tell the likes of him about his daughter being taken. At least the man made you a priority: He bluntly told Stannis that he wouldn't join the war effort until he found you, especially since he suspected deserters took you for quick coin. To your father and Davos' shock, Stannis assigned the onion knight to the task. Your father was slighted, but Davos understood. You were taken at the docks of Storm's End, a place he knew all too well.

He tirelessly talked and bribed each fishmonger, sailor and captain on the docks, trying to focus on his work and not let panic set in. Your father was convinced you were taken away from Storm's End, so he searched elsewhere, but Davos still had a few men. He knew he had to find you by a certain time, it'd be impossible to know which ship left with you. Finally, he got a good lead, and more or less used Stannis' name to board an inconspicuous trade ship. Hidden amongst crates under the deck, you and several other girls were bound and gagged, meant to be sold off in Essos.

Davos' composed, determined demeanor dropped completely once your arms were wrapped around him and he could hold you tight. While the soldiers helped the other girls, Davos stayed with you, trying to keep his voice steady as he asked if you were hurt. The whole "secret relationship" thing flew out the window as you stayed close to him all the way back. When your father irritably told Davos to step back, you told him off right away and explained how he saved you. There would be plenty of gossip, but you were too exhausted and overwhelmed to care. You snuck into Davos' room that evening, wanting his comfort, and he gladly gave it to you.

MARGAERY TYRELL

She would’ve been one of the first ones to know about your disappearance, as you two were close and you didn’t show up at the secret place you two kept. Margaery went to all your usual spots and your room, and immediately felt something off. She heard you mentioning the enemies your family had made, and although she told you to be careful and maybe come with her to Highgarden, neither of you thought this would actually happen.

She’d act quick, rallying her best household knights and even her brothers Garlan and Loras. Margaery would go to Olenna, trying to logically explain that your House was close to the Tyrells, and being kidnapped while staying with them would look bad. Olenna would play along, although she had plans to find you anyway, knowing how close you were to her granddaughter. Once you were finally brought back, Margaery anxiously waited until you were checked out by the maester and safe in your room. She’d sneak into your room and throw her arms around you, unable to keep her emotion and anxiety in check any longer, and give you several kisses out of relief.

Once you both calmed down, she’d brush your hair or rub your shoulders if you wanted to talk, and if not, she’d be happy to take you in her arms while you two dozed off. From then on she’d want you by her side all the time, growing nervous if you were gone for too long, and if she couldn’t be there, she’d want a guard she knew and trusted with you. She might even have some handmaidens or guards report on you, to see if you were shaken from the experience or if your wounds were still bothering you. Whatever you like to eat, drink or wear, it would be provided for you. Margaery could come across as a bit excessive, but only because she was still reeling from the idea that you could’ve been gone for good.

BRYNDEN TULLY

He hadn’t known about your kidnapping until several days after it happened, during the chaos of the war. He nearly throttled the messenger, and then rounded on Edmure, wondering why he wasn’t informed. While he couldn’t leave his command to look for you, you’d be on his thoughts in the night, and he’d prepare himself for the chance of you being dead. He’d think about the last time you two were together, what you said, how you felt and the way you smiled, and he’d try to keep those thoughts away as he fought, hoping that they weren’t the last memories he’d have of you.

It seemed like the gods answered his prayers when his men caught rumors that your kidnappers had fled to a nearby holdfast. Leading the rescue himself, they finally found the little fort you were being held in. He dealt with the men easily, cutting past them like they weren’t even there, hastily sheathing his sword before crouching down to pick you up. He’d hold you so carefully, like you were made of glass, and whisper sweet and comforting words as he’d carry you back to his horse.

Back at Riverrun, he’d ensure the maester tended to you immediately, waiting impatiently the whole time. Once you were in back safe in bed, Brynden would waste little time in curling up with you, apologizing for taking so long and not being there. He’d be truly heartbroken, and would ask you to forgive him. Even after you reassured him and fell asleep, Brynden would struggle to sleep himself, still overcome by the guilt and relief that was hitting him at once.

EDMURE TULLY

The Riverlands were safe for anyone, so you and your husband opened Riverrun for the smallfolk seeking refuge from bandits and Lannister soldiers. Edmure confidently left Riverrun and the smallfolk in your hands. When he returned some time later to resupply his men, he was confused by the somber and terrified mood the smallfolk held, then he was told: just two days ago, you had left to help a razed village evacuate to Riverrun, and you were captured in the process.

All the fatigue from marching and battle left Edmure completely, replaced by a frantic panic. At best, they’d ransom you, at worst, you were dead. He knew this, but Robb’s fear was they’d use you to get Edmure to surrender the castle. He sent an impressive number of men with Edmure to try to find you, figuring they couldn’t have gotten far, especially since no Riverlander peasant would ever help Lannister soldiers hurt their beloved Lady. It seemed word of your kindness had spread far, and many peasants were willing to report strange things they’d seen. It meant you were alive, and that spurred him on in spite of his aching body and heart.

The soldiers were just a small group that had overpowered the few guards you left Riverrun with. They’d lured you out with a false report that a village was razed and the surviving smallfolk had too many wounded to leave. You cursed them so much they’d knocked you unconscious to keep you quiet. Edmure panicked openly as he picked up your limp body, and one of his men pointed out you were breathing. Once you were safe at home and your head wound was tended to by a Maester, Edmure finally collapsed next to you on the bed. He increased the Garrison at Riverrun and had to be reassured over and over that you were alright and had no lasting injuries.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She would be an absolute wreck from the initial report that you were gone, to realizing it was a kidnapping, to setting off with Podrick to find you herself. Several times Pod would have to stop her, telling her to sleep and eat properly, but she’d want to forge ahead. She wouldn’t be able to stop worrying, thinking of worst-case scenarios. Her head would only clear when she had to fight, and even then, she used a ferocity that didn’t often show itself in her.

More than anything, Brienne would be angry with herself, as she swore to protect you and this happened. Once she finally came upon your kidnappers, she’d swiftly dispatch them, not even thinking as her sword guided her. A calm would settle over her as she found you, checked you for wounds, and led you back to safety. It wouldn’t be until you held her face and cried that she’d finally crack and cry with you, the days of emotional and physical exhaustion hitting her all at once.

Once back home, you’d bathe together and she’d have a maester clean your wounds, although she’d hold your hand the entire time. You could tell a heavy weight was resting on her, and once you ate and were in bed, you’d invite her and hold her close. She’d confess she blamed herself, and how fearful she was, and you’d have to reassure and soothe Brienne that nothing was her fault and you were so glad she came to rescue you. You two would end up snuggling and sleeping for most of the day and night. Once you were feeling better recovered, especially with Brienne bringing you breakfast and more medicine, she’d be even more loyal and dogged in her guardly duties. You couldn’t complain too much, as you liked having her close, but you hated the idea of her blaming herself still, and you had to reassure her often.

RAMSAY BOLTON

It would take an absolute madman to kidnap the wife of Ramsay Bolton, and the only explanation is that your captors hadn’t the slightest idea of who you were, no matter the warnings you gave them. They caught you while you traveled on the road, seeing you as a dumb and pretty noblewoman they could ransom. When you didn’t come to dinner that evening, Ramsay was immediately angered, assuming you had run away. Unbeknownst to you, he had trained his hounds on your scent, and fetched items from your room that they could track. He thought he would find you quickly, but the hours passed by, and he finally came upon your dead guards. Ramsay realized it was a kidnapping, and was gleeful, wondering what sort of men would have the gall to take his wife.

As his hounds followed the trail, his glee became apprehension, and that turned to irritation and anger. He wondered what they were doing to you, what they had done already. The thought of your skin being touched or bruised by anyone other than him made his blood boil. When Ramsay arrived at their camp, he and his men dispatched with the kidnappers in a brutal fashion - naturally, he wanted the ringleader and a few others captured alive. He’d find you quickly and ask all sorts of impatient questions - where they touched you and where you were hurt, and you’d struggle to answer. Finally he’d take you back to the Dreadfort, carrying you with an unusual carefulness as he brought you to the maester - he wanted to treat your wounds himself, but his father insisted.

Waiting for the maester to check on you and then for you to wake up wore on his patience, but Ramsay did it, alternating between torturing his captors and waiting at your bedside, sometimes not even bothering to clean the blood from his hands or face. Once you woke, he’d be delighted to inform you of what he already did, and all but beg you to tell him how you wanted the remaining kidnappers punished.

ROOSE BOLTON

He knew becoming the Warden of the North through unsavory means meant he would have enemies, and Roose took precautions in your safety, having you stay in Winterfell with several guards following where you went. His most trusted were the ones who protected you, and he never anticipated one turning against him. He struggled to maintain his aloof demeanor as he was told the news. When the first night had passed, his facade began slipping as he demanded his soldiers to keep looking. When the third night passed, Roose would go out on his own, even enlisting Ramsay and the hounds. His mind was at odds, the cynical side of him insisting you were dead or had endured something terrible already, but he wanted to hope you were safe.

Once his men finally found and retrieved you, he’d pull the fur off his shoulders and wrap you up, keeping you close as he took you back to Winterfell. He’d want to see any wounds for himself, caring for them and giving uncharacteristically gentle kisses to your temple and your lips. The worry would be evident in his icy eyes, and he’d give you whatever you asked, bathing you himself, dressing you and tucking you in with great love. Roose wouldn’t join you right away, though, insisting you needed to sleep.

Once he left you, the rage would enter his body all at once. Following his earlier instructions, his men took the kidnappers alive. Roose dealt with the leader, and once his anger was sated, for once he’d allow Ramsay to do whatever he wished to the rest. After that Roose would be particularly protective of you and wouldn’t want you to leave Winterfell for months. No matter how you asked or begged to leave, he’d refuse. He never wanted his enemies getting ahold of you again.

OBERYN MARTELL

He would’ve been one of the first people to notice you were missing, given that he loved being around you at every moment and you hadn’t been at any of your usual places for hours. He’d do his own investigating and, being the hot-headed man he was, would immediately gather a rescue party to find you. He’d be seething with anger, wondering who could’ve done such a thing, conflicting with his own guilt that perhaps you were taken by someone who wanted to hurt him. He’d be relentless in looking for you, anticipating the worst, and his men wouldn’t be able to calm him or get him to slow down.

Once he finally found where your captors were keeping you, they were dealt with swiftly by his own spear. He’d set it aside and quickly take you in his arms, petting your hair and giving you a dozen relieved kisses. He’d try to keep calm so he could soothe you better, but you could tell how tense he still was, like he was on the edge of a breakdown.

Back at your shared home, he’d want to bathe and care for you himself. You’d get plenty of soft and comforting touches, but you could still see intensity in his eyes. He’d promise you he wouldn’t let this crime go unpunished. Once you two were snuggled in bed, he’d keep a tight hold on you, and for the next few weeks Oberyn would be absolutely underfoot. He would want to do all the caring for you, rather than your handmaidens or the maester. He’d want lots of reassurance from you, as he’d be shaken and would want you to feel safe and happy in your home again, and would even feel guilty, as though he personally failed you as your protector. It would be a long time before Oberyn let you out of his sight, or let you go without guards he personally trusted.

BERIC DONDARRION

When he heard you had been separated from one of the Brotherhood’s scouting parties, and possibly taken by Lannister soldiers, the whole camp went cold at once. The most affected was Beric, who felt like ice was clawing at his heart instead of the usual fiery warmth he felt. The sternness from his knight days, combined with an almost frantic strength, led him as he led a rescue party. While a few men grumbled as to why he’d go through so much effort to save one girl, the ones following him had grown to see you as a comrade and a sister.

To their relief, you had left something of a trail with rocks, small sticks sitting upright in the dirt and even a few scraps of clothing the soldiers didn’t notice you dropping on the ground. You were terrified, anticipating the soldiers would do as they pleased with you, torture you, kill you - or all three, most likely. You heard a commotion, one of the soldiers was shot through with an arrow, and in an instant several members from the Brotherhood jumped through bushes and trees. Before you could even look for him, Beric was beside you, untying you and holding you close.

He wanted to get you away from the camp right away. While his men finished off the soldiers, Beric held you close and looked shaken. He’d take you to Thoros, who’d assure him that you were fine apart from bruises and scrapes, but it didn’t comfort the former knight. You’d curl up to him that evening and he’d sigh deeply, apologizing for what you went through. After that, Beric would be very resistant to sending you on any further scouting missions. His shoulders would visibly tense and he’d sigh again, asking you not to do such a thing.

GENDRY

He always had to watch out for you, because if you weren’t helping Arya with one of her schemes, you were hatching something of your own. While he admired that courage of your’s, he teased you were a bad influence on the already wild girl. However, when Arya came running to him that day, the look in her eyes made his heart sink. She told him no one had seen you nearly the whole morning and day, and she knew Lannister soldiers had been pestering you. She was afraid they’d taken you, like they sometimes took other girls. While he usually wanted to keep his head down, he found himself gritting his teeth, grabbing a hammer from the forge and handing Arya a dagger. Together, they snuck away into the dusk.

At an empty part of Harrenhal, they came across a Lannister soldier who was knocked clean out, and they followed the shouts and yelling. They were just in time: You had hit one of the soldiers with a rock and knocked him out, and the other two were ready to kill you for it. Gendry’s body moved on its own as his powerful arms knocked one of the men dead, and Arya was quick to stab the second. Gendry dropped his hammer and pulled you into an embrace, telling you it was safe now, even if his voice was shaking as bad as your body.

The three of you snuck back into Harrenhal, cleaning the weapons and returning them to the forge. While before he was considering keeping his head down and just working Harrenhal’s forge, now he wanted nothing more than to run away with you. When you said you had a plan days later, he stared at the bruises left on your arms and firmly agreed to help.

#game of thrones imagines #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got #got imagines

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dwellordream · 4 years ago

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28 tywin/catelyn

In death, his lined, pallid face is waxen, his mouth swollen and blue, the veins of his mottled neck throbbing broken reddish purple. Stoneheart studies the corpse curiously, carefully, laid out on the slab of stone table. He seems just another frail old man, in death. Nothing special or striking about him.

The sleeting rains and winds have worn away whatever fine clothes he was wearing when the Brotherhood seized him, and any jewelry on him was pilfered and sold off for money for food or horses. She wishes they’d left any small part of it. She’d like to take a Lannister ring between her jagged, broken teeth, and bite down until it crumbled into dust. She’d like to throw his gold into the river, see how far the current carries it.

She traces his ugly blue mouth with a gnarled, blackened finger, the nail rotting away, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake. She wonders if he toasted her boy’s death, when he heard. Or did he simply hide his smile, and congratulate himself on a job well done? Catelyn Tully was raised to believe in seven circles of hell. Lady Stoneheart calls upon them now.

Reynes, Tarbecks, Castameres, Martells, Targaryens, Mormonts, Umbers, Flints, Manderlys, and Starks, do they dine upon him now, hack his heart up for dinner with their feasting knives? Do their drowned and butchered children kick his head around under the table, play dice for who gets to nibble on his fingers? What songs are they singing? And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a fish in a different coat, that’s all the truth I know. She raises his lax chin, and presses her cold mouth to his in a mocking kiss. Thinks she will make a necklace of his teeth, and cap each one in Lannister gold.

#lady stoneheart #tywin lannister #ask #anon #ask game

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moon-ruled-rising · 4 years ago

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as the rain hides the stars | xv

read it on ao3...

where to begin?

Babe, there’s something wretched about this,

something so precious about this,

where to begin?

Babe, there’s something broken about this,

but I might be hoping about this.

Oh, what a sin.

-Hozier, “From Eden”

“I’m sure Rhaenys will be fine, it’s Aegon I’m worried about. He’s a little chatterbox.”

The bits of dialogue between Dany and her conference call reached Jon’s ears as he stared out the window and watched the countryside slip past. They were on their way to another Northern landmark, just the two of them. Their Majesties thought it was a good way for the public to see them acting like a real couple, even though it was far from the truth.

Despite the impending publicity stunt, Dany was seemingly playful. After a week of wedding planning she was probably ecstatic to get away from it all. And understandably so. He attended a few of the planning sessions, specifically the cake tasting and menu planning. Dany surprised him by taking his opinions into consideration and even Catelyn appeared to tolerate his presence.

They also had their first dance lesson which only reinforced the fact that Jon had two left feet. Luckily, it wasn't a standard ballroom dance so they were both spared any crushed toes. Although there were a few instances of hands missing their mark and ending up in the other’s face. They could hardly look at each other the next day without cracked smiles and stifled laughter. Much to the dismay of the Great Wedding Committee who wanted to discuss stationary and rings.

Jon felt guilty after that particular meeting. Even though they were discussing wedding rings, he realized he’d never given Dany a proper engagement ring. She’d taken to wearing a ring of her mother’s on her finger so no one would get suspicious about the lack of a real proposal. Dany said people wouldn’t question the legitimacy of their engagement if a ring was involved. So Jon employed the help of Arya and Sansa, who were both detrimental in getting Dany’s ring size on the sly and helping him choose from the modest selection of jewels. They found a perfect choice after an hour of looking, it didn’t even need to be reset. He would’ve given it to her there in the car but it wouldn’t matter. The weather took a nasty dip and it was always cold on the wall so they would be wearing light gloves.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Dany cried, breaking Jon from his reverie.

“Finally done?”

“Deadzone.” she let her phone fall dramatically onto the seat between them and leaned her head on the window.

Jon chuckled. They had crossed into the Gift, a swath of land set aside for the Night’s Watch specifically and notorious for its spotty reception. In another hour they would be at Castle Black. He would by lying if he said he wasn’t anxious to be back. The reminder of the incident and his subsequent indefinite leave were still fresh in his mind.

Even though he trained and studied like the other recruits, he was never meant to be a ranger. The job was too dangerous for the Prince of the North so Lord Commander Mormont requested Jon be his personal steward. While he still craved the adventure of the rangings, he was willing to concede. However, there was one time he’d gotten a taste of what he could’ve had if he weren’t so damned important.

Shadow Unit was down a man and with no reports of wildling activity in the area, they let Jon ride out with them. The route they patrolled was clear with no sign of any wildling activity. That was how it usually went. In his four years at the Wall the only times there were actually run ins with the tribes that lived there got too close or Mormont sent the ranging parties further north.

The clear mile between the forest edge and the Wall was in their sights, bringing with it the promise of warmth and rest. The night was still and unnaturally dark and cold, the men in the unit were just as wary of the atmosphere as their mounts. The Haunted Forest was overgrown and wild, making it impossible for bulky vehicles to navigate. And going on foot was worse for obvious reasons so the Watch kept horses.

A rustling in the trees brought their procession to a halt. With no wind to shake the branches, Jon knew at once that they shouldn’t have stopped. One of the men went to radio in the activity when dark shapes descended on the front and rear and chaos ensued. Their formation broke into a mess of nervous horses and shouting men. On the narrow trail there was no way to break through, they were fish in a barrel.

Somehow, in the darkness and confusion, Jon was tossed from his saddle. He landed on the frozen ground and avoided being trampled by his own horse. With no cover and no clear way out, Jon ducked into the trees. He managed to conceal himself and was about to try to contact Castle Black when he was tackled, his radio skidding across the snow and out of his reach. He managed to get his forearms between the attacker and his face but not before his crude knife slashed at his eye.

The shout that left Jon filled the still forest as he forced his assailant off. Jon flipped himself over and tried to crawl to his radio. A searing, fire erupted in his leg and he knew he was a victim to the primitive tool his attacker had. As though it was second nature, Jon drew his gun and aimed.

Even in the dark, he could feel the eyes of his opponent. Jon realized there was a human staring down the barrel of his gun. It was a brief thought, fleeting. Neither of them moved. There was no time to overthink it and without any more consideration, Jon pulled the trigger.

He wasn’t shaking like he hoped he would. His breath was even and the pain from his eye and leg was dull but the sensation was growing. But as he laid there in the snow he contemplated what would come next.

The afternoon brought a meeting with Lord Commander Mormont. He wasn’t in command of Shadow Unit, nor was he leading the ranging so Jon had no idea why the Lord Commander would want to talk with him about the incident. At least that’s what he told himself to keep the dreading feeling away. Mormont was going to tell him his time with the Night’s Watch was over and he was going back to Winterfell.

“You wished to see me, Lord Commander?” Jon asked as he stepped through the door.

“Have a seat Jon.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to be ready to leave the moment the Old Bear said the words but the ache in his leg was still too bothersome to ignore.

“I’m sure you know that your father was alerted about the attack last night. Once he heard of your involvement and subsequent injury he commanded that you be placed on leave indefinitely and sent back to Winterfell.”

There it was. “What did you say to him?”

Mormont sighed, “I tried to convince him to let you stay but my explanation of the events did little to sway him.”

“I can’t go back there.” Jon shook his head.

He knew he would return eventually but he hadn’t planned on it being so soon.

“Neither of us have much choice in the matter,” the Old Bear reminded him, “We must all answer to the crown.”

At court, he felt like everything was handed to him. Even his claim to the throne was presented like a gift on his name day. While any other man would’ve taken advantage of it, Jon came to resent it. He found it to be one of the many reasons for the disdain surrounding him. It didn’t help that bastards were considered treacherous, even a legitimized one.

Serving with the Night’s Watch gave him the chance to earn something. Even if it was the least exciting of the positions, he put in the time and effort to achieve it. Hearing his name called and reciting the word beneath the grove of heart trees was the most gratifying experience.

Jon found himself in much the same position again, though this time it was a woman the Crown placed into his life. Like an invitation for a week-long hunting trip on Bear Island only significantly more permanent and harder to refuse. And they were both real people with their own wants and needs but some selfish pricks higher than them decided that none of that mattered; reducing him and Dany to mere pawns in the ever evolving game.

The view outside the window changed with the first signs of Mole’s Town, several roofs and chimney stacks sticking out of the ground. To help protect against the cold homes were built underground and the public buildings were connected by tunnels. In more recent years, people began constructing their houses into the sides of man made hills. It seemed the only structure to be seen from the road was Castle Black, standing stoic and dark against the gleaming ice of the Wall.

Once a simple fortification of towers and scattered rooms, the years saw it transform from ancient keep to proper military base. Not that there was a great war to be expected from the folk beyond the wall, Castle Black was really a form of discouragement from trying to sneak through the wall.

“Seven hells,” Dany muttered as they passed through the gates, “That is a lot of ice.”

“Wait until you see the view from the top,” Jon said.

“We’re actually going up there?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t be a trip to the Wall without it.”

There was a media frenzy in the courtyard. As part of the agreement between the press and the Royal Family, Jon and Dany would give them enough time for a photo op as they were greeted by the Lord Commander and then they expected peace and quiet for the day and a half they were there.

Jon was surprised they were willing to accept such a quick and easy deal since it was the first public sighting of the newly engaged royals. A pair who were supposedly so in love, they decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together in the span of a week. Luckily, decorum helped them avoid any public displays of affection and bed sharing as their accommodations provided two separate rooms.

Brother’s of the Night’s Watch paused along the walkways to view the flashing cameras and the two people all the fuss was over. Jon didn’t recognize any of the faces. He doubted he would, a lot could change in two years. He at least expected to see Edd Tollett walking alongside the Lord Commander, complaining Mormont’s ear off. But the Lord Commander arrived alone, dressed in the ceremonial blacks with the bear of Mormont set among the various pins and medals.

“Your Highnesses, it is an honor to have you at Castle Black.”

The camera flashes increased as Jon shook Mormont’s hand and they posed for a good minute afterward, smiling and acting gracious. The press was ushered out of the courtyard and Mormont dropped the pretense.

“So, this is the young lady you’ve decided to spend the rest of your life with?” Mormont sizing up Dany, “A spectacular choice.”

Jon saw her smug smile. When she noticed he was looking at her, she nudged him with her shoulder.

The loud, high-spirited sounds that accompanied a returning patrol unit drew his attention away. Ghost Unit, he could tell. The two friends he made in his time at the wall, Grenn and Pyp, were in that group.

“Well if it isn’t Lord Snow!” one of them called.

He shook his head. The nickname was meant as a mean tease and it stuck. Jon should’ve corrected them, reminded the men that he deserved the respect of his rank, but it brought back a wave of nostalgia he was grateful for.

“Aurochs and Pyp-squeak,” he greeted in the same mocking tone.

“We were about to head to Tormund’s if you wanted to join us,” offered Grenn, clapping Jon on the back.

“The lady can come too.”

Pyp nodded toward Dany, who stood by Jon’s side.

She laughed, “I would love to but one of us should stay for the tour from the Lord Commander.”

“You don’t mind if I go?”

“Of course not. You’ve probably seen enough of the place anyway.”

Jon thanked her, which she waved off in her casual way before leaving with Mormont.

Tormund’s little pub was one of the busiest attractions in the underground village of Mole’s Town. The atmosphere was humid and hot with all the bodies stuffed in the small space. When Jon inquired about the increase in people, his brothers laughed.

“It’s because of you and your sweetheart. As soon as news broke about your visit up here they all decided to make a weekend trip just to catch sight of you two.” Grenn informed.

Jon noticed there were quite a few people wandering around up top. They were probably hoping to get close enough to the base but would have to wait until the photos were released. For once the strict policy on royal/press policy.

The group found an empty table somewhere, Edd ended up joining them later. He wished he could enjoy their company like he used to but they kept asking him about the wedding and Dany and he found himself dodging questions, unable to relax.

“Can I come to the wedding?”

“You can come to the reception.”

“What if I’m your supporter?”

“Robb’s already got the job, Pyp.”

“Okay but what if-”

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to throttle you,” Edd threatened, as tired of the wedding talk as Jon was.

He managed to flip the conversation back to them by asking Grenn about his possible promotion. Grenn launched into a long winded rant, with added talking points by Pyp, about the placement of new recruits and new training requirements. All was going well until Tormund found out they were at his establishment.

Jon heard his warhorn of a voice call ‘Crow!’ from across the packed room. There was more grey in his orange hair than Jon remembered but that didn’t stop him from plucking the Prince out of his seat and nearly crushing him in a hug.

“I thought I’d seen the last of you when they shipped you back south. What the hells are you doing up here?”

“He and his fiancée are here to see the wall.”

“Fiancée? Well, what are you waiting for crow, show me a picture of this special woman,” Tormund demanded.

Jon pulled out his phone to find a picture of Dany and realized that he had none on his camera roll. He tried to search the internet for one but Tormund spotted him.

“You don’t have a picture of her in your phone?”

“They’ve only known each other a week,” Pyp chimed in.

“A week? Gods you work fast,” echoed Tormund in disbelief.

“It’s a long story that I’d rather not get into,” he tried to defend.

He wasn’t allowed to reveal the exact nature of his and Dany’s relationship, no matter how far-fetched it seemed to other people.

Edd broke in with, “I think we know why Lord Snow fell so fast.”

The tone in his voice reminded Jon of someone who was about to tell a bad joke. When he gave Edd a questioning look, he shrugged.

“When we found out who you were engaged to we did some digging.”

“The deep web is a wonderful, wonderful place,” came Pyp’s addition.

“The situation is much more complicated than that.”

Jon tried to sit down but Tormund pulled him back up and threw an arm around his shoulders.

“At least he’s found himself a girl to share his time with. Unlike the lot of you, sitting in my pub every weekend in the same spot and leaving together. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re more like to warm each other’s beds.”

Groans and protests went up from the group, mostly accusing Tormund of similar bachelor behavior. Jon patted Tormund’s shoulder, relieved that the conversation was off of him.

When he returned to Castle Black with Grenn and Pyp, the sun had dipped below the wall, the sky making it’s nightly shift from orange to pink to purple to black and casting the southern half of the wall in shadow. The breeze had a harsher bite to it and Jon shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. His gloved fingers brushed against something small and odd shaped. The ring. He’d almost forgotten about it.

In a streak of luck, Dany was crossing the courtyard with the Lord Commander. He called out to her and she stopped to look at him.

“We were about to go up top,” she said, “Everyone says now is the best time.”

Jon doubted it. The air would be colder and the wind rougher but there was something he needed to do.

“I can take you up.”

“Are you sure? Lord Commander Mormont said he would do it.”

“I’m sure.”

The Old Bear backed off and let Jon take Dany’s arm.

Despite the creaking and rattling from the winch, it was an unbearably silent ride. One that left Jon with nothing to do but fiddle with the piece of jewelry in his pocket and watch Dany readjust her scarf from the millionth time.

No matter how much he’d seen it during his four years at the Wall, the view from the top still impressed him, especially then. The horizon burned orange, lighting the soft clouds yellow and making the purple-blue of the sky look electric. The light reflected off the trees and light snow of the lands beyond the wall.

“The Lord Commander told me there are still people who live out there. What will they do when winter comes?”

“They’ve survived the cold and snow for thousands of years, they can handle one more.”

Silence settled between them again.

“You were right. It is beautiful.”

Dany tucked her chin into her scarf as the wind picked up, swirling her loose hair around. She gathered it in her hands and wrestled it under her scarf. A few pieces managed to escape and as she turned to look at him they brushed across her face. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold and her eyes were starting to water. Jon lost his nerve.

It was too romantic, he decided. There was nothing he wanted less than to seem like he was trying to woo her. Not to mention with their security officers present and the possibility of a watchman passing by, it was too public.

“We should head back down,” he offered.

She agreed and they descended, heading directly for their guest quarters. The pair of bedrooms with a common space between was fully furnished and a welcome retreat from the oncoming cold. There was even a fire burning in the fireplace. Castle Black had a modern furnace system but nothing truly beat the cold like a roaring fire.

They parted to peel off their outerwear and change. Jon waited a good few minutes, sitting on the edge of the bed, examining the ring and trying to get his nerve back. He finally stood, walked into the living space and said, “Hey Dany, can you come here for a second.”

She appeared in the doorway. An oversized brown flannel hung from her shoulders, dwarfing her small frame, and she wore a pair of hot pink fuzzy socks on her feet.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, heading straight for the sofa in front of the fire.

Dany pulled her legs up beside her and twisted so she could see him. Her hair had a frizz to it, he noted. The light from behind caught in it, surrounding her make-up free face in a halo of gold.

“Yes,” he answered without thinking, “I mean, no… Yes and no.”

Her eyebrows raised as she eyed him.

Jon moved to sit on the sofa with her, “When we talked about wedding rings this week, I realized that I forgot an important part of engagements.”

He realized the error he’d made in waiting until then. While the scene on the Wall was romantic in a trope riddled teen romance movie way, the low light and Jon and Dany in their sleepwear was much more intimate. And Jon cursed himself for it.

“Uh, it’s fine? I’m not really sure which part of the engagement you’re referring to.”

“That would be the proposal. I mean, you deserve a real one.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, that’s a shame because I have this…” Jon held the ring up.

“Oh, I’m fine with the one I’ve been wearing. You didn’t have to-”

“I know.” Without another moment’s hesitation he continued, “Daenerys Stormborn the First of House Targaryen, Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros and Lady of Dragonstone, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

A laugh escaped her, good natured and light, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Considering the wedding is in three weeks, I figured I’d better squeeze it in at some point.”

“Talisa was right, you are such a sap.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll be taking this back.” he started to put the ring back in his pocket but Dany reached for it.

“No, no, no, you proposed and I said yes, the ring is a fair exchange.”

She still had on her mother’s ring, so she took it off and put it on her other hand.

“Here,” Jon offered, taking her hand and sliding the real engagement ring onto her finger.

It wasn’t anything extravagant or glamorous, a simple kite shaped diamond with flecks through it (something Sansa called a ‘salt-and-pepper diamond’) set in silver. The shape reminded Jon of the tiara Dany wore to the charity gala, as well as the dragon sigil of her House.

“It’s a beautiful ring,” she said with a soft smile, still twisting and turning her hand to watch it catch the light.

“It was my Aunt Lyanna’s.”

“What happened to her?”

“She renounced her title. After Uncle Brandon died the succession skipped to my father. She was never meant for the princess life anyway, it was too stifling for her.”

“Where is she now?”

“We don’t know. Sansa thinks she fell in love with a Myrish merchant and took off to be with him in Essos.”

Dany’s face took on a thoughtful look, she dropped her hand to her lap and looked to the flames.

“I was engaged once.”

“Really?”

Jon was shocked. As far as he was concerned, Dany had never been in a serious relationship. She just flitted from one man to another.

“I was fresh off my first semester of university and it was my first time in Meereen. The Grand Masters invited me to a gala of theirs and the Dothraki Khal happened to be there. We hit it off right away, although he didn’t speak a word of the common tongue except ‘no’. Ser Jorah had to translate everything.

“When I returned to Meereen the next summer, he invited me to Vaes Dothrak and I spent more time with him than I should have. It wasn’t a proper proposal, there was nothing planned about it. No ring, no kneeling, no pretty words. It was spur of the moment and I said yes.”

“What happened?”

“Rhaegar found out. I haven’t seen or heard from Drogo since, unless you count that tell-all article.”

“I’m very sorry.”

She looked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why? It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anybody’s fault but my own.” There was bitterness to her voice.

“I guess I… have sympathy for you,” Jon admitted.

“Well thank you for that. And for the ring.”

She paused, like she was contemplating something more, then got up and disappeared into her room. Jon gazed at the closed door. He sighed and departed for his own bed.

#jonerys #jonerys fanfiction #jonerys fanfic #jon snow x daenerys targaryen #ao3 #ao3 link

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eurusholmmes · 5 years ago

Text

Be There When I Need You | J.M.

I have been attracted to older actors literally since I was 13 years old, and finding out that Iain Glenn existed did me absolutely no favors. Please enjoy this one shot, and love Jorah Mormont just as I do.

Prompt: Could u do a Jorah Mormont x reader where the reader sacrifices herself during a battle to save him ( she’s a total badass)? Loads of angst please and thank you!

Female Reader. This is the longest fic I’ve written in a while, and I’ve also never seen GoT s8!!! I worked really hard on this. Please let me know what you think!

Please go follow my main blog @morganas-pendragons where I will eventually be writing more GoT content!

Tagging @orderoftheflamingflamingos because I know you love Jorah

Living in the North as a girl who was born and bred in the South was no easy feat. Your father was an expert tradesman who often found himself at the Bear Islands where he very easily befriended Lord Mormont, who often made the trades for needed supplies much easier.

You weren’t supposed to meet his son Jorah quite yet, but you did. He was standing tall at his fathers side, no older then fifteen years old, and you admired just how regal he looked standing there. Absolutely divine. It was hard not to marvel at the strong, handsome features of the heir to the Bear Islands, but what you were unaware of is how he gazed at you. The daughter to another Lord of a much smaller house, soon to be wed to keep the trade routes and exchanges successful and plentiful for the following years.

“My Lord, allow me the pleasure of introducing my daughter, Y/N Y/L/N to your son.”

Jorah attempted to hide his fascination of you behind a smile and the gentlest press of lips against the back of your hand. “My Lady,” He greeted. “I believe we have quite a future ahead of us.”

Given that your land was not that far from that of the Islands, your father requested that you stay behind to learn the art of swordplay with Jorah. He was the most talented swordsman of his age until you came around and beat him at his own game. Women were not meant for battle, but marrying a man like Jorah Mormont would be a whole other war to face.

“Is that how you do it, Ser?” You mused as you lightly pressed the dull edge of your training blade against his throat, knee pinning his chest to the ground as he laid flat on his back. You had often taken advantage of the art of seduction to catch him off guard, and it never failed you.

“I’m not a knight yet, Y/N.”

His pupils dilated as you bent down and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was a daring move, sure, but over the time you’d been living inside the castle with the Mormonts you had never dared to venture further then holding his hand.

“When we wed, I will move all the Heavens above to ensure you receive your knighthood. There’s no one more deserving of it.”

Your relationship evolved over the next few years. Jorah preferred to remain intimate behind closed doors - taking to holding hands and soft, desperate gazes across the rooms when you both occupied them. He was well respected by people, worthy of their love, and you were greatly looking forward to when you ruled the Islands together.

What you weren’t anticipating was those three dreaded words. The ones you very rarely said with your lips and instead said with your actions. You didn’t want to love him, but you did, and the very thought of it absolutely terrified you. Sent dread down to your very core - because you knew what would happen next.

“I love you.” Warm hands, gentle caresses against the apples of your cheeks in the light of the fire blazing in his chambers. The two of you had retired sometime ago after the wedding preparations for the day had been finished, and Jorah wanted nothing more then to cradle you close and disappear from the world with you.

“Jorah-”

“I do. I have loved you and I will never stop loving you.” His hand travelled down the curve of your arm until it wrapped around your hip, urging you close enough that you could feel the crevices of his body against your own. You had always fit well together, like two missing pieces of a puzzle.

“Don’t fall any deeper in love with me.” You whispered. You spread your fingers out over his heart and lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze. Soft and warm, just like the rest of him, with his very clear adoration of you evident in the blues of his eyes.

“Why?”

“Because you won’t be there when I need you.”

And just as you suspected, news arrived on the day after your wedding that Jorah had been involved in a slavery ring and had been caught by Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

He had fled Westeros with only a note and a wedding ring left in the crevices of your bed with the intent of you finding it. You took his note in your hands and read his poor explanation as to why he’d been forced to hide such a treasonous act from his wife, of all people, and how he promised to be with you again when the time came for him to be pardoned.

Bitterness kills. Bitterness kills. Bitterness kills.

But forgiveness heals, and there was no possibility of holding a grudge against Jorah for as many years as your heart would’ve desired. You eventually forgave but you had no intentions of forgetting anything that had occurred.

You became Queen of the Bear Islands after Jorah was exiled. Years passed and you ruled better then you would’ve anticipated, but the ring around your neck was a constant reminder of the man you’d loved and the man you’d lost.

That was until Daenerys Targaryen arrived and the threat of the Night King loomed over your heads. Forced to fight with the North for the safety of Westeros, you left your council in charge and travelled to Winterfell for the battle against the Wights.

You weren’t expecting what you saw waiting at the front gates.

“Khaleesi, if I may-” Daenerys laid her hand on Jorahs arm as she watched a horse with a single rider come into view further down the road, eyes softening as she recognized your form that sat on top of it. She had been the one to keep in contact with you about Jorah since he’d mentioned leaving a wife to rule the Bear Islands, but he’d never spoken more than that. You were too precious a memory.

“I believe someone has come to see you, Ser.”

Jorahs eyes followed the stride of the horse until it skidded to a stop before him, and the breath dissipated in his lungs when he realized it was you sitting atop of it. He half expected you to berate him, to scold him for leaving you behind and to drive your fists into his body until his skin was streaked in black, blue and purple.

He had tried so hard to forget about you. Forget the way your eyes lit up when he entered a room, or the way your hands felt when they traveled his body. The curve of your smile and the way your body felt beneath his hands. The way you showed no fear in the face of death, or how well you held yourself in battle. But he could not forget how deeply you loved him. The way you always whispered sweet nothings in the dead of night about how good a man he was and how honorable he’d become. How when he woke up from nightmares you’d already be sitting at his side and would curl a single strand of hair behind his ear and sing Jenny of Oldstones to lull him to sleep.

How he’d left you with nothing but a ring to remember him by.

“Don’t fall in love with me, Jorah.”

“Why?”

“Because then you won’t be there when I need you.”

Silence pierced the air as you dismounted and allowed one of the Unsullied to take your horse to the stables before you turned to greet Daenerys and Jorah. He stood at her side, hands behind his back and head bowed so he would not have to meet the coldness of your stare.

Daenerys, however, saw no bitterness for the man beside her. The same man who had vowed his sword and his life to her cause, and had hidden the memory of the woman he loved deep within his heart so he would not be forced to revisit the pain of leaving her behind.

“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you face to face.” Daenerys smiled and held up a hand, motioning to Jorah with a flick of her head. She very clearly was ready to leave the two of you alone for much needed reconciliation after years apart.

“The pleasure is all mine, My Lady. If you’ll excuse me, I have some matters that must be attended to.” Once Daenerys disappeared from view, you moved forward and extended your hand just enough to unlace Jorahs from where they trembled behind his back. Your fingers trailed down the furs that lined his arms until they linked with his own, and he stared down in disbelief before you lifted his chin just high enough to meet his eyes.

“Oh.” Oh indeed. “Jorah Mormont, you insufferable man.. Never has a woman missed her husband as I have missed you.” Your chest constricted painfully when you heard the way his breathing hitched and saw the tears that formed in his eyes.

“I remain undeserving-”

“Never has there been a man more deserving of my love.” You cradled his face in your hands and pressed the ghost of a kiss against the curve of his mouth just as you had done all those years ago on the training grounds. “A man more honorable, or more loyal.” Your lips trailed until they hovered over his own just close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “No one I have loved more other then you.”

He claimed you with his kiss. It’s difficult to preserve your emotions in front of Winterfells gates and not let him take you right there, but there had never been a time in your life when you had been so touched at how gentle he was. Years have passed since you had done this - allowing the man you love to lay his claim to you with his mouth and the slow caress of your tongue against his own. Jorah hoped you couldn’t hear the way his heart thundered when you tangled your fingers through his hair and wound them tightly enough to pull his face away.

“Tell me again.” He breathed. Your eyes narrowed on his lips, the flesh swollen from the intensity of your kiss. His chest was having and his hair untamed by the way you gripped it, but never had there been a time where Jorah Mormont looked so sinful. “Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

No one talked about the way they saw the two of you emerge from the same chambers the following morning. How much more Jorah smiled in Daenerys presence when he knew that you were near, or how your laughter sang in the halls of Winterfell’s keep.

He took you again the night before the battle. Your head was dazed with the effects of the wine Jaime Lannister had so graciously offered you to drink, and then again, and then again until you’d lost count after five goblets worth. The eldest Lannister was rather intriguing to be around especially when he wove tales of his times in Kings Landing - the Capital of the South - and it made you miss home even more then you had as a young girl.

But the home you’d come to know since then was burning holes through the back of his skull from across the room, where Tormund Giantsbane made a raucous about how you were his and he should make that known to the suitors who were so clearly drawn to you.

“Home.”

You had just begun to unlace his shirt when he caught your hand in his own, and your brow furrowed in confusion as his eyes fluttered shut. Whatever he was trying to prevent you from seeing beneath the fabric very clearly embarrassed him. “Jorah?” You whispered, fingers dancing along the curve of his jaw. Just the very touch of you set every nerve on fire.

It had been so long since he'd done this. Had intimately been with a woman, let alone been with you, and you had yet to be made aware of the scars that came with his greyscale. He loathed the kind of man he’d become in his absence from you, so why should he believe you’d love him like this?

“I don’t want you to see this.”

“See what?”

“Daenerys did not speak of my greyscale. I was away from her in search of a cure, which I found, and now there are so many-” You wrenched open the laces of his shirt and pushed it over his shoulders, gaze softening at the array of ridged scars that lined his torso. There were so much more then the last time you’d seen him.

“Scars?” You lifted your head just enough to brush your lips against the one closest to you, and Jorah trembled beneath your touch as you continued your trek across the valleys and ridges of his chest. “A lot of women think scars are sexy.”

He was stunned when you flipped your position and were able to straddle him. Your knees locked at his hips and you were hunched over just enough that you were able to brush your lips against his chest, and the groan you emitted was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

Then he said it again, in the midst of desperately trying to control the tears brought upon by your acceptance.

“Don’t fall any deeper in love with me, my wife.”

“Why?”

“Because then you won’t be there when I need you.”

The sounds of battle raged on around him as he desperately sought out both you and Daenerys. His sight was shrouded in darkness from the ash that rained down from the heavens, corpses lined the Earth at his feet and the smell of blood remained pungent in the air. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if the blood belonged to you.

Daenerys had accepted you and Jorah as her sworn shields the same day you’d met her, and after much time spent together, you vowed your service and your life to The Dragon Queen in the halls of Winterfell. You and Jorah had been apart too long and you were adamant that you wouldn’t be separated anytime soon.

Only the Gods had other plans for you.

It was just when he found you in the midst of fending off a wight that had been ready to attack Daenerys that the first blade pierced through your armor. Daenerys froze as you stood your ground, gritting your teeth so hard that your ears began to ring.

Then the next blade came, and the pain followed with it. It began as an ache in your abdomen, and continued on until your entire body felt as if it had been doused in dragon fire. Every cell of your existence was screaming. Your eyes burned and your hands were stained scarlet, but yet here you stood.

Jorah was paralyzed in his place, and it was right before the last blade pierced you that you desperately screamed his name. Screamed so terrifyingly loud that he was positive you were lost to him.

You both had gone and done exactly what you feared the most: You had fallen in love with each other, and now after just getting you back, Jorah Mormont was about to lose the only thing in his life besides Daenerys that had given him a reason to breathe. A reason to wake up in the morning and keep moving.

“Hey, hey Y/N,” His voice bordered on the edge of a plea as your eyes fluttered and lifted to gaze at the sky. “We will take you to the Maester at once. Your wounds will heal and we will return to the Bear Islands once Daenerys holds the Iron Throne. I swear it,” Jorah swallowed the knot in his throat as a broken laugh fell from your lips. “Y/N-”

“I told you not to fall in love with me, you idiot.”

“And I told you I’d never stop loving you.” He curled his fingers through your hair and cradled your head in his hands, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. It was slowing down now. Your breaths were fewer and fewer with each minute that passed. “Please, Y/N-”

“Never has there been another, Ser Jorah Mormont.’’ Tears trekked through the blood that stained your cheeks as he rested his forehead against your own. And for a moment, it was just the two of you, and no one else. There was no war against the Night King, no threat of Death looming overhead, no war of The Queens for the seat on the Iron Throne. It was just the two of you. Only you. “My heart has been yours, and it remains yours-”

“I swear it.”

Daenerys was the one to pull him from his internal hysteria when she saw your eyes go blank and your chest stop moving. Her hand fell to your own that laid limp at your side, and the breath was knocked from her lungs as she recognized the shape of a wedding band even through the ash and blood that stained the metal.

When Jorah took the ring into his hand and wiped the blood from the metal, he caught sight of the engraving you’d had done only days after the wedding had taken place. He’d never seen it before now, but the sight of it only wounded him more deeply as he cradled your head against his chest.

I am his and he is mine

“From this day,” He held the ring to his lips and kissed it. “Until the end of my days.”

#Jorah Mormont #Jorah Mormont x Reader #Jorah Mormont x Y/N #Jorah Mormont x You #Daenerys Targaryen #Game of Thrones #GoT #Game of Thrones imagines #Game of Thrones oneshots #Game of Throne fanfiction #Game of Thrones x You #Game of Thrones x Reader

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kitten1618x · 6 years ago

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GoT Afterthoughts ep. 08x01 ‘Winterfell’ (Part 1)

Whew! I’m sorry this has taken so long. I’ve got two munchkins home from school with a stomach bug, and they’ve been cutting into my rewatch and write-up.

So, a few things before we kick this bad boy off... I have not read or interacted much with anyone (except writing up that post yesterday about the opening creds) and I have avoided the discord server (even though I’m DYING to gush) as to not skew my own perception of the episode. Those of you who follow my blog know that I am partial to political!jon, but here’s your heads up for anyone else that just stumbled onto this recap. And with that...

We begin the journey of our last season similarly to the way we began our very first: An excited Winter Town boy frantically scrambling to find a better view of the royal retinue marching on Winterfell—complete with the same musical score. Let’s call that strike one against Jon and Dany, as we all know what a farce that first royal couples’ relationship was.

This boy, as he shimmies up a nearby tree, very much reminds me of a combination of both Arya and Bran in the pilot — Arya even spies him and smiles, as she stands watching with the smallfolk (a nice book nod). Her face at initially seeing her big brother Jon makes my heart skip a few beats, and I kind of got the feeling she was going to call out for him, but changed her mind. She looks down then, and I’m honestly so worried for their reunion because they have both changed so much, and Arya isn’t the same little girl he remembers.

Her smile fades as Jon and Dany pass her by, and the Hound comes into view. Her feelings with Sandor have always been complicated, but we don’t have much time to dwell on that, because Gendry rounds the corner and there’s a different kind of smile lighting up Arya’s face now—and I’m so stoked for their reunion, because it’s what I deserve. WE ALL DESERVE THIS OKAY?!?!?!

And what do we have here? Ahhhh yes, the typical D&D ‘cock’ and/or (in this case) ‘balls’ banter via Varys and Tyrion as they once again travel together in another wooden box. You know, we damn well better get the payoff to the jackass/honeycomb/brothel joke this season, or I swear by the old gods and the new that I’m blowing up the Sept of Baelor... oh wait.

Missandei looks visibly uncomfortable at the impassive stares of the Northerners as they ride by. However, Jon did warn them about the North—which he reiterates to a rather annoyed looking Dany, who no doubt expected a much more warmer welcoming for coming to “save the North”—but it’s pretty clear there will be no Myhsa crowd-surfing here.

A screeching overhead sends the Northerners frantically running for cover as a smug-looking Daenerys smirks proudly at the fear her dragon children instill when they split the skies above. Let’s be real here — that was no coincidence. Remember this?

Dany is in complete control of Drogon, and let’s call a spade a spade: this was a cheap intimidation tactic driven by spite. And I honestly can’t even say I blame the girl, but it’s probably not the best way to make new friends, either—especially when they are all of the mindset that “a Targaryen cannot be trusted”. Just sayin’, Dany girl.

And we have Arya’s reaction to seeing Dragons for the first time as they soar high up over Winterfell and Sansa, who watches from the ramparts. Sansa’s reaction is quite similar to Cersei’s—as in, she really doesn’t have one. Someone please cue My Chick Bad by Ludacris!!

Jon and Dany enter the courtyard and Jon springs from his horse to bring Bran in for a signature Stark squeeze and a forehead kiss (another season one callback). He proudly admires how Bran has grown and is now a man, only for Bran to answer with some vague and emotionless three-eyed raven shit, before staring down Daenerys while Jon moves to Sansa’s open arms.

*Perhaps no one informed Jon about Bran going all sentient-being?

I’m sure most of you already noticed that while this is supposed to be the same hug scene we were shown in the HBO teaser, it’s not the same shot, nor the same angle. In the teaser, Jon makes this soft face and goes straight to Sansa’s arms...

But in the actual episode, Jon goes straight to Bran’s arms, and his expression is quite different...

And in the teaser the hug is much longer in duration, and Sansa doesn’t look up at Dany until the end—still not relinquishing her hold on Jon.

However, in the episode, we get a shorter version and a different angle, while Bran and Sansa simultaneously stink-eye Dany the entire time.

*please note Jon’s expression isn’t the same as it is in the hbo teaser—which begs to differ WHY they chose such a romantic shot of these siblings to hype the final season? I mean, I know why... do you? 😉

Annnnnnd moving right along. Jon asks where his darling baby sister Arya has gotten to, as to which Sansa replies “lurking somewhere” — which is an odd response, but I’m not gonna lie, it did make me chuckle a little. If I had to make a guess on this odd dialogue (other than the D’s just suck at dialogue sometimes), I imagine it serves the purpose of leading Jon to assume that the girls still have the same strained relationship of their youth.

Not one to stand by idle while getting eye-fucked from all directions (and not in a good way), Dany sashays over to be introduced to the stunning redhead Jon was hugging on, to learn she is (only) his sister (whew!), and the Lady of Winterfell. And with that said, I need to take a moment to address something to all the antis who will probably hop on this post (cuz I know y’all are there): Jon is NOT the Lord of Winterfell. Winterfell does NOT belong to him, not even as warden of the North, not even a little bit. He has no say, no ownership, no NOTHING on Winterfell. The only way he becomes the Lord of Winterfell is if he marries his cousin, Sansa Stark — which is just ONE of the many reasons WHY a marriage between them is advantageous. Tell your friends.

The tension kicks up a notch as the introductions proceed and Dany feeds Sansa platitudes of how beautiful she and the North are. Perhaps her words are meant to be kind, but after all she’s been through, Sansa is not here for the bullshit — remember how nice Miranda was in the beginning too? Besides, my girl’s jealousy is so thick, she’s almost GREEN. So, giving Dany a full-bodied once over, she haughtily replies “Winterfell is yours, Your Grace.”

Annnnnnd...

Before a full-blown catfight ensues, Bran throws some ice on the situation—and by ice, I mean ice dragon (harr harr harrrr). The wall has come down, and your dragon is one of them now, he informs Dany—whom of course is horrified by the news. (And probably by Bran too, as I assume she, like Jon, did not get the Bran is the 3ER memo).

We move into the Great Hall where we learn that Sansa has already made the intelligent decision to call all their banners to retreat to Winterfell as soon as they knew that the wall had fallen. Little Ned Umber isn’t really sure whom he’s supposed to address or how (bless his little heart), but in any event, he’s getting the horses and carts he needs to safely bring the rest of his people back to Winterfell. Jon tells the maester to summon the Nights Watch as well.

And of course you know little Lady Mormont has some shit to say. She’s not pleased with the turn of events and wastes no time voicing her opinion and stirring the ire of the Northerners. But hey,

(Sorry, I couldn’t help myself).

But more on that later, because Jon looks really nervous as little Lyanna throws shade — and his first instinct is to turn and share a look with his sister, errr wife, cousin!, Sansa.

I feel like he was looking to her for support, but she’s got none to offer at the moment. So, he pulls himself together and tries to calm the dissent by giving another rousing ‘we need allies and I brought them’ speech, and he actually says something VERY interesting here: “I had a choice: keep my crown or protect the north. I chose the north.” I mean, he ain’t lying, and the best place to hide something is right in plain sight, after all—and of course nothing about that statement sounds political or off at all, does it? I mean, because the Dany stans/jonerii insist that Dany agreed and was FULLY onboard to come north before Jon bent the knee, so why would he say that, then? Go on, tell me...

Tyrion decides to throw in his unwanted .02 — simultaneously backing up Jon and feeding Dany’s savior complex (the greatest army blah blah blah — gods, I cannot wait until everyone sees how useless the dragons will be against the NK, especially when using them to roast the wights puts their own soldiers at risk). His words aren’t met with any gratitude when he also drops the bomb that another enemy house of the North is also on its way to Winterfell.

Sansa is taken aback but recovers quickly. Armed with her signature snark, she asks how they’re expected to feed the ‘worlds greatest army�� — something she did not prepare for — chased by a sassy, “what do dragons eat, anyway?”

But wa-wa-wait, HOLD UP. Did Dany just— Did she just throw down the gauntlet?

Why, I believe she did, my friends! jskslkdlsksjsklslsljsllsl 😂😂😂😂

I can’t even with this episode, guys. It’s like I’m watching a medieval version of Melrose Place (google it, youngin’s) with Jane and Sydney throwing shots by the poolside!

Okay, okay, but all joking and snark aside, Sansa has got a valid point. She isn’t prepared to feed all these extra mouths PLUS two fucken huge dragons. I mean, winter is here, and where could they possibly find enough food to sustain everyone? It’s almost as if the show is making it a point to remind us about the lack of food and where did we last see wagons loaded with food? Oh right, I remember...

Put this one behind Northern Independence on the list of ‘Petty Things That Won’t Matter Because the AotD is Coming’ — you know, because who needs food to survive? And who the hell wants independence, anyway?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Moving right along, and holy mother, maiden and crone, this is getting long and I’ve barely scratched the first 15 minutes of the show!

You know what? Nevermind, I’m just gonna go ahead and publish this, and post the rest tomorow when I finish it — I know y’all are thirsty anyway. lol Forgive the sloppiness, as I did this ALL on mobile, and my paragraph breaks kept disappearing and arrrrrghh tumblr!

*Some gifs/images mine. The others were taken from google. Thanks if it’s yours!!

#got afterthoughts #got s8 #jonsa #political!jon #anti jonerys #anti targaryen restoration #anti daenerys #(not really but just being safe)#melissa rants #long post

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7deadlycinderellas · 5 years ago

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If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch 17

AO3 link

King’s Landing

Robert hasn’t even been dead two days before Joffrey dismisses Ned, and Sansa and him are turned out. The snow has barely had a chance to settle on the ground.

They are given a day to pack their things.

A tiny part of Sansa’s heart is sad. There are fond goodbyes of course, Tommen hugs her as tightly as though he were her own brother.

Tyrion is even more despondent. Joffrey’s selection for his replacement hand is, of course, Tywin Lannister.

“Couldn’t you convince him to send you back to Casterly Rock? I mean, if he dislikes having you around so much…”

“I’m afraid he distrusts me possibly taking control of Casterly Rock more than he dislikes my face.”

Sansa gets lost in thought at that. She’s unsure who even would have ended up warden of the west had the dead stayed dead. She knows there are Lannisters scattered about the whole region, one she’s never heard of likely.

She pauses a bit before her next line.

“Why don’t you ever leave? You’re a clever man, there’s a whole world outside Westeros where no one knows you as Tywin Lannister’s son.”

Tyrion exhales noisily, and sets down his glass.

“No one may now me as that, but the whole world will still take one look at me and see a fool or a toy.”

She thinks her next words over, thoroughly.

“We have a mutual friend,” she tells him, “A friend with a great many legs. One who considers his greatest loyalty to the whole realm. You should ask him about our friend overseas. She needed your help before.”

Tyrion actually looks confused for a moment.

“You got shipped there is a crate before, hiding in disgrace. That might not be necessary. You could sail away a free man.”

Her next words are grim.

“There’s enough horrors to come to Westeros that I would flee if I could.”

Throughout the rest of their goodbye, a sweet ache forms deep in Sansa’s chest.

“I…I’m going to miss you. Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he tells her, his voice nearly breathy. It’s an odd sound coming from him. He was always good at playing things off, but not this.

“If you hear tell of monsters coming from the north, run.”

She reaches into one of her pockets, pulling out the roll of paper she’d scribbled hastily that morning.

“Dragonglass can kill them. Valyrian steel too. There’s a blacksmith in Flea Bottom named Mott, there’s instructions in here, he can follow, but…”

There’s tears pricking at the back of her eyes, and her words are stumbling. It’s not just because if the others reach this far south, it means the north has fallen, fallen so far she can scarcely imagine.

Before Tyrion can react, she reaches out and grasps the fingers of his right hand, raising his knuckles and pressing her lips to each of them in turn, much as he had once before.

The act calms her enough, that when she rises to her feet, her words are more steady.

“You never caught my words for their meaning. My father did, but you didn’t. I said Tysha was your first wife, you never asked me who your second was.”

She turns and leaves, without stopping to look at his face. An errant tear creeps down her cheek. She wipes it off.

Whatever feelings the encounter stirred inside her are pushed down by what happens later that morning.

Sansa and Ned are waiting near where their horses are being packed, when they approached by a flustered looking Brienne and Shireen.

“Have either of you seen Lord Stannis?”

“He left yesterday after supper,” Sansa tells, “To retrieve his men and head for the Wall to aid the Night’s Watch.”

Brienne curses. Sansa’s never heard her do that before, and it shocks her.

“Renly’s rushed off. There’s reports of Ironborn ships attacking Shipbreaker’s Bay. Some of them men have swum ashore and are attempting to lay siege to Storm’s End.”

Sansa is astonished.

“What are they stupid? That could garrison a whole army in that hold, and withstand siege for at least a year. And if the storm’s don’t take it out, raiders certainly can’t!”

She’s heard tell that the Kingsmoot ritual involves drowning the participant for a time. Perhaps that ritual has done a number on their brains.

Brienne shakes her head.

“I know. But Lord Renly didn’t want Shireen anywhere near it, I was going to take her back to her father-”

Ned interrupts,

“They left by ship, there’s no way you’ll catch them in the winter weather, and the Wall is no place for a girl.”

Brienne looks lost for a moment, before Ned continues.

“Come with us. We can put the two of you up in Winterfell for a time. It’s a hard season, but we manage every winter, and we’ll be closer to her father than she is if she stays here. We’ll send a raven a head once we leave.”

He regards Brienne,

“You are the girl’s sworn shield correct?”

Brienne nods, solemn.

“Then you should know that this is likely the safest route we can take.”

And after a time, Brienne agrees.

When her and Ned begin to work out the logistics, Sansa moves and takes Shireen’s hand. The girl is quiet, but her hands are shaking.

This is going to be harder than she imagines.

Winterfell

Blizzards drive them inside.

Northerners can still work in snow, they know the snow, the landscape. But a true blizzard, with thick snow and fog and wind and deep,deep darkness will drive even the most hardy of them cowering for shelter.

It was in one of these deep blizzards that Robb drew up his letters to their bannermen.

Davos had returned some moons before, with a ship full of evacuees and a nightmare.

He has a flashback to something Osha had asked them when they were ferrying the first ship full south.

“Do you have a family, Davos?”

She never called him ser, but he never minded truly.

“A wife and seven sons.”

“And you’re fine with being here with all of this, instead of with them?”

Davos had shaken his head.

“Of course I’m not. I miss all of them every day. But my wife is one of those rare women who is content being by herself, and my eldest is old enough to have his own family. I’m filling a need here, helping these people stay with their own families, and trying to protect my own from afar.”

That had been the first of the four voyages he had made, expertly avoiding the Night Watch partrolled waters, hold full of refugees. He never let them off in the same spot twice. A few he expected, even tried to sail off on their own, into the open sea.

He told them the story of an entire Free Folk coastal settlement completely overrun by the others. How the wights had piled up upon each other until they could climb the walls of the city, with no care that they were getting crushed under each other and just kept coming.

They didn’t have to be told about it. Jojen had woken up screaming that morning, with a vision he couldn’t tell from a nightmare. They weren’t sure if it had been Hardhorne, but it had sounded just like it.

“And we still don’t know what’s become of Jon,” Arya tells him, hugging herself, “He hasn’t been at Castle Black in years.”

“He wasn’t there,” Davos tells her grimly, “If he had been I’d have sought him out. It was chaos, no one leading, no one guiding. I just shoved as many as I could on the ship, thanked every god I could think of that they can’t swim and fled.”

“We’ll start sending weapons to other keeps,” Robb tells him grimly, “Along with orders that every able man, woman and child to be trained in their use. Take some of the free folk with you to help begin the training.”

“Tell them,” Bran adds, “To make up lists. Add the names of anyone too old, young or sick to train.”

“We’ll start planning, see if we can identify safe places to evacuate them to if the wall is breached.”

Bear Island has become a possibility, since Davos has reminded them that the dead do not swim. After the death of Jeor Mormont in the mutiny at the wall, Dacey and Alysane Mormont had come to Winterfell to seek acknowledgement of their mother’s continued rule.

They had met no resistance at this, but when given the same instructions that the Stark’s other sworn house’s had been given about dealing with fleeing wildlings, they had been met with mirth.

“Wildlings used to try to raid our island, “ Dacey had said, “Now even the Iron born know better. We can do what you say, but I don’t any of them are still foolish enough to try fleeing to our little island.”

“You may be surprised,” Robb tells them grimly, “Most of them seem to be fleeing to whatever’s south of where they currently are.”

Arya watches the two of them from the side of the room, wondering if Lyanna would have resembled them when she grew up. She knew both Alysane and Dacey had been killed at the red wedding. Neither them or their mother had husbands, they all swore their children had been sired by bears.

And with a sudden spark, Arya wonders if she could ask one of them if one of these bears had had red hair and a long beard.

The blizzards also stopper news. Even Bran can’t guide his ravens through them. They have no idea what’s occurred in the capital since Robert’s death. This is one of the few times in his second life that Bran has missed the ability to see through the weirwoods.

And with the onset of winter, Arya is suddenly quite grateful for her mother’s insistence that she marry.

She occasionally will grumble will Gendry wraps her in her arms, his head over hers and his legs bracketing hers.

“Why do you always get to be the big spoon?”

“Cause if I let you be the big spoon I’ll end up missing a limb one of these mornings.”

Her childhood bed is slightly too small for the two of them, but in winter the crowding is welcome.

One morning, when they rise, Gendry spies a fairly dark mark she’d left on his shoulder the night before. It’s not the first- a few weeks prior Robb had leaned in close to examine a pink love bite on his neck, and then backed away, horrified, when he’d recognized it for what it was, but something about it niggles at him.

“I think you can see teeth here…Something bothering you?”

At her bewildered look he clarified,

“I know they call you a she-wolf, but your teeth don’t usually come out unless you’re upset or scared.”

In the old days, so long ago it seemed, she had put up a tough facade, but then melted atop of him. It had been fun to discover that Arya, who fought so hard to keep her outside cold, loved to be held and kissed gently. But when the dead had kept rising and people had kept dying, her kisses got harder, her hands gripping tighter, often leaving him increasingly black and blue. He hadn’t minded, not particularly, except for what it made him think of her mental state.

She sighs, and moves to kiss the mark, trying to soothe it away.

“I didn’t realize that having everyone I loved back would leave me even more scared of losing them again.”

Gendry throws an arm across her back, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck.

“What was that thing in High Valyrian? That thing that weird red and white haired fucker said when he got us out of Harrenhal?”

Arya laughs, “Valar Morghulis. All men must die.”

“Seems a bit morbid to me, but that’s the point I guess. We’re all going to have to die eventually. But you have us all here again.”

Arya’s face looks unconvinced, but she steps back to pull off her shift and begins dressing without another word.

When the blizzard finally passes, everyone in Winterfell has gone stir crazy. Enough for even Gendry to ask to join some of the others to go with Meera and Jojen to go forage for mushrooms.

It’s a bright clear day, and the sun is high in the sky when they’re turning over logs and digging out tree trunks to look for growths to examine and see if they looked edible.

Gendry had never known there were so many kinds of mushrooms, looking through his sack at all the different sizes and shapes. Though, he thinks as Jojen finds a small, spotted one, looks at it and shakes his head, he never really realized how deadly the wrong ones could be either. It wasn’t something that ever came up in King’s Landing, and when on the road, it had never occurred to him to even bother with mushrooms.

They’ve all been out maybe an hour, when Jojen stops suddenly.

When he falls over into the snow, it’s Arya who reaches him first. She rolls him over, runs a hand over his mouth and nose, and then under his chin.

“He’s breathing,” she assures Meera. The other girl’s face has gone ashen, and she’s standing stiff, pulled tight like a lute’s string.

“Rickon, run back to the keep, have them bring Maester Luwin down to meet us,” she says, in a single breath.

Before Gendry can move, and before Rickon’s even out of sight, she moves and grabs Jojen under his arms,

“Gendry, help me,”

He finally snaps out of his haze, and goes to help, and between the three of them, they manage to life Jojen, who remains motionless. He’s not too heavy, but he’s long, and his boots make his feet harder to handle.

It takes doing, but they weren’t too far out, so they get back to Winterfell quickly enough. When the guards Rickon has alerted come out and take Jojen from the three of them, Gendry feels his muscles burn as they go slack.

Arya grabs his hand quietly as they step aside. Meera stands at the end where they had dropped him and she looks frozen to her spot, and like she might fall over herself.

Bran hadn’t gone with them, for obvious reasons, but having been drawn out of the keep by the ruckus, he awkwardly makes his way to join them.

He approaches Meera quietly, and when he reaches out to gingerly touches her hands, she heaves and presses her face into his neck.

Gendry feels Arya pull his hand, and whisper, “leave them be.”

Her voice when she speaks again is incensed, but her face has that same faraway look it had the morning he’d questioned her biting him.

“Jojen better be pretty sick if he scared us that bad,”

“Are you going to yell at him when he wakes up,”

She shakes his head,

“I’m going to set Mother on him.”

The next time they see Jojen is the next day when Meera goes to bring him his supper. Maester Luwin tells them he has a fever and a bad chest infection, and shouldn’t have gone outside. He plies him with ointments to ease the cough he wakes with and makes him a tea to help the fever.

He also still looks suitably terrified by whatever it was Lady Catelyn said to him.

It’s a few weeks later, when Gendry’s by himself in the forge, when Jojen asks if he can come in and sit for a while.

Even this long after, his cough is lingering, so Gendry tells him,

“Sure, but you should stay by the door away from the smoke.”

He sits quietly for a while, reading a book he’s brought with him.

“You’re from the capital right?”

Gendry nods, “Grew up in Flea Bottom, Biggest slum in the whole place.”

“Someplace with that many people, is there anywhere you would go if you got sick?”

Gendry laughs wryly.

“Barely. If you were lucky you might know an old woman who knew about healing or someone at a tavern who was used to sewing up brawl wounds. Mostly if you got sick enough you just died.”

Jojen’s face at this point looks an awful lot like what Arya’s occasionally has.

“After Lady Catelyn scolded me…throughly, I asked her how the maesters learned all they did about helping the sick.”

He’s never met one before Luwin, but even Gendry knew about the citadel. He also knows that no maester would bother himself with the problems of the common folk.

“It’s a big undertaking,” Gendry says, “You basically have to give up your whole life to become one.”

“And that’s stupid,” Jojen replies, forcefully, “Why should they keep all the knowledge just for themselves? People get sick everywhere. Lords have to pay to receive one at their castles, that’s why we don’t have one at Greywater Watch.”

He’s quiet for a bit longer, then admits.

“It didn’t surprise me at all when Meera told me I died young. I always thought I would. In the swamp, it’s much the same. You get sick enough and you just die.”

Gendry thinks long on his next words, before saying.

“Valar Morghulis,”

Jojen nods, having learned enough High Valyrian to know the saying.

“Sounds like an excuse if you ask me.”

Over the Wall

The boy is walking steadily, pointing and babbling when Gilly finally decides on a name for him.

Jon had told her about his friends at Castle Black, and she had liked the sound of the name Aemon. It makes Jon’s heart twinge, wondering if one of his only remaining relatives was still living, but happy to know he would be remembered if not.

“It’s not so bad,” she tells him, “Lots of us don’t name our babes until they walk. They die too easily when they’re small.”

The cave really isn’t a good place for a young child, but it’s safer than above ground. And when Aemon begins to talk, he begins to whisper the same words Jon does.

These are the words Rowan has begun teaching him. Maester Luwin had taught all of the Stark children High Valyrian, but Jon doesn’t believe it ever sounded like this coming from him. He recalls his words sounded stiff, practiced. Luwin had waved them all on, saying that reading it was more important. The words the trees speak are different. It’s like they speak in all the senses.

Ygritte had listened to them one day, and said they didn’t even sound like words.

“Almost sounds like you’re singing.”

Sometimes Jon sits and listens to the wind outside the caves, blowing through the trees that dot the hillside. Singing seems an appropriate word, he hopes that what he sounds like.

Gilly and the other’s don’t always make it back for supper, their map-making taking time, though their paths through the caves are unobstructed. Sometimes Ygritte leaves and hunts something to roast. The moss Rowan seems to favor doesn’t seem to do much to bolster a human’s strength. She dries some, and sends them with Henneh and Petra, Gilly’s youngest sisters. When she gives it to them, sometimes they’re gone overnight.

Jon still feels overwhelmed, and one day, he finally asks Rowan,

“So, what’s the endgame for this? What is it all for?”

Rowan looks contemplative, and reaches out to touch his hands.

“What brought you over the wall Jon Snow?”

He is confused,

“Duty? Following my commander’s lead?”

Rowan smiles, almost amused.

“Why specifically?”

Jon pauses for a long time.

“We were hoping to find my uncle Benjen and the other rangers who’d gone missing. And to find out why the wildlings were fleeing their villages.”

Rowan nods. She reaches out and touches the root of the dead tree.

“All of the trees speak the same language, and they all speak to one another. Perhaps you could ask them if they had seen your uncle?”

The question should be bizarre, but it’s become almost normal.

“This one’s dead, will it be able to answer?”

Rowan shakes her head.

“But I can take you to one that will.”

The journey isn’t far, it’s down one of the close caverns Gilly has already mapped. The little weirwood is barely larger than the one Rowan had rooted, maybe a few years. Its trunk is skinny, and it’s only maybe ten or twelve feet tall.

When he realizes he must look apprehensive, Rowan touches him.

“Go ahead. It’s not a person, it can’t take offense.”

Jon’s words whisper his memories of his uncle. His height, build, his long hair. Who his parents were, his siblings. These words become his image, his voice giving shape to his very self.

Jon is so shocked when the tree responds he nearly falls over. Listening he finds, is easier than speaking. Maybe it always was.

He doesn’t see it, not really, not in the way he’d heard Bran speak of his visions. It’s like he was there, and he’s remembering it.

He remembers seeing Benjen being surrounded by the others. He recognizes their piercing blue eyes without a word. He remembers them pierce his heart. He remembers him fleeing, beginning to turn blue himself. He remembers Rowan, as clear as she is standing beside him right now. He remembers seeing her take him by the hand, to one of her caves.

When Jon pulls himself out, he asks her,

“He’s still alive.”

“For want of a better word. He is not whole, but he is still himself.”

Jon feels a weight lift off his chest as the two of them make their way back to the main cave.

They make more journeys out to the weirwood, sometimes day after day in a row, when Rowan feels Jon needs to work on his speech, or she remembers something she feels he needs to see more than others.

He spies Gilly and the others carrying rough crosses.

“Iron and dragonglass,” Rowan acknowledges, “I buried one far north. They are doing the same south towards the wall. If we get them in the ground before they manage to breach it, then they shouldn’t be able to keep rising. The long dead should stay down.”

Before? Jon thinks, more than a little alarmed.

One night, he returns from his lessons to only a fire and Ygritte.

“No one else back yet?”

Ygritte shakes her head. She’s holding a sword.

Jon feels the back of his neck prickling.

“Where’d you find that?”

“One of these caverns. Rowan said it belonged to the tree-man who lived here before. More fun than the axe.”

Brynden Rivers, Jon recalls, is what she had said was the original name of the man who became the Three-Eyed Raven. A bastard, just like him.

He goes to take a look at the handle, and something about the blade catches his eye.

“May I?”

She shrugs.

The weight gives it up.

“This is Valyrian steel,” he tells her, astonished, “Like Longclaw. There’s less than a dozen of these left in Westeros.”

“So a good find?”

He recalls his siblings telling him to hold tightly to Longclaw, because it could destroy Others.

“Hold onto this,” he tells her, passing the sword back. She raises an eyebrow.

“Sure I’m not going to lob any important bits off in your sleep now?”

He laughs.

“You would have done it by now if you were.”

Maybe it’s the peace of the moment, or the joy of finding the sword, or maybe it’s the firelight catching her hair.

“Can I kiss you?”

Ygritte’s face turns contemptuous. He can feel the mocking in her words before they even start. Whatever despair her memories had brought to her, there is no sign of.

“All these years throwing myself at you and all you’re going to do is kiss me?”

He snorts.

“I know nothing remember, I have to learn.”

And before she can get in a retort, he leans over and follows through.

He kisses quite a lot of her that night, and though she isn’t quiet the whole time, none of her words are complaints.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #sanrion #jongritte #breera #time travel fix it #fic

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tacitwhisky · 6 years ago

Text

Southern Wolves, pt 1

Jon x Sansa - Jon leaves the Wall to save Sansa from Joffrey. Together they wander the war ravaged Riverlands to try and return home / AO3 Link

The plan is born between the two of them in the dark of Robb’s tent late in the night once the lamps have begun to gutter and the wine in their cups has sloshed low, the spiced warmth and boldness within faded to a dull edge.

“I can't ask this of you,” Robb says for the fifth time in so many hours.

And for the fifth time in so many hours Jon answers, “it’s my plan, Robb.”

“I’ll send men with you.”

“Should I also wear the Stark colors?”

“You cannot do it alone, Jon.”

“More than one man will be noticed.”

“I should be the one going.”

“You’re the king.”

“And what king sends his brother to fight his battles?”

But I’m not your brother. For a moment it is on the tip of Jon’s tongue to share with Robb the secret the man he’d thought all his life was his father had sworn him to keep as he left to join the Night’s Watch. To let spill all the anger and bitterness that have filled him for months now. To spill the secret that had gnawed away at him until he could stay at the Wall no longer.

But when Jon opens his mouth he finds his throat aching and empty. There is a tear somewhere deep in him, a frayed edge that if he tells Robb they are not brothers will rip him in two like old rotted cloth. And so though it makes his heart ache to know it a lie, he says softly, “they're my sisters too, Robb.”

---

Jon leaves in the morning, food and dagger and a dozen gold crowns rolled into a tight bundle as around Jon men stumble out from their tents and cooking fires are lit. The bundle he lashes to the back of a courser unlike the stiff footed nag he’d ridden down from the wall only a fortnight before. Jeor Mormont had not had to give him any horse at all, but had found him the nag nevertheless. You’ve said no vows yet, the old bear had growled, so you’re no oathbreaker. Tell lord Stark when you see him of our need. Tell him the true war is here beyond the Wall.

Jon had sworn he would, but by the time he’d reached Moat Cailin the man Jon had thought his father all his life was gone, head taken from his shoulders by the mad boy king. He was never your father, a dull voice in him had hissed as tears pricked his eyes, what right do you have to mourn him? You’ve only ever been some mad Targaryen’s dragonspawn.

But mourn him Jon had as he followed the kingsroad south. It was why Robb’s eyes had lit up when Jon first ducked under the flap of his tent, why he’d strode forward and clasped him tight, why the Lannister letter the day before offering a trade of Arya and Sansa for the Kingslayer had lead to hours of heated words. It’s why Jon finds himself tightening the straps of the saddlebag on the grey courser in the cool Riverland air with the sun still only half risen.

Last, Jon kneels to scratch Ghost behind the ears. The direwolf accepts his touch silently, red eyes seeming to understand as Jon whispers for him to keep Robb safe. Only when Jon glances up does he see Catelyn standing with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her dress, hair braided into a red rope over one shoulder, cool blue eyes watching him.

Jon straightens warily. “Lady Catelyn.”

A breeze plays with the hem of her dress, but Catelyn might be made of stone for all she moves. Her eyes study him dispassionate as though she were judging a recently scrubbed wall. “Robb told me what you mean to do,” she says eventually. “That you mean to bring my daughters back.”

“I do.” Jon gathers the reins of his courser. He swallows down the dryness in his throat. All his life he’s spent hiding from Catelyn’s cool gazes, slinking away whenever they settled on him, and it is all he can do not to flinch now. “If I can.”

“They’ll be well guarded.”

“I know.”

“You have to free them as one. Losing one will only make the Lannisters tighten their grasp on the other.”

“I’ll remember it.”

Catelyn nods as if to herself. Her lips purse as though around a strange taste, as though she doesn’t know how to form the words she wants. For a long moment Jon is at a loss, unsure what more lady Catelyn could have to say to him, what could hold her tongue. And then he realizes, understands suddenly the words she cannot bring herself to say, not to him, not to the bastard that’s always stained her marriage. Thank you.

And just as suddenly Jon doesn’t want her thanks, the acceptance he’s craved all his life like some kind of kicked dog. They’re my sisters, he wishes he could shout at her. But they aren’t, aren’t and never have been no matter how it feels like driving a knife into his chest to know that. You never knew lord Stark’s great secret but you didn’t need to. I’ve never been a Stark to you. It is all Jon can do to choke down a bitter laugh. Ned never dishonored you. All these years you’ve hated me, and for what? For nothing. And now I’m the only hope your daughters have.

Robb emerges from his tent. Catelyn turns to meet him, and whatever she might have said to Jon dies unspoken on her lips. She lays a hand on Robb’s arm, murmurs something that Robb nods to, and takes her leave, dress swirling behind her. Robb stands watching as Jon pulls himself onto the courser and takes the reins in hand. “You don’t have to do this,” he says finally.

“I do,” Jon answers, and he wills his voice sure, surer than he feels, surer than the knot of fear in his stomach that he’ll fail, that it’ll be his head on a pike beside the man he’d thought was his father’s. They’re my sisters too, he nearly says. But he will not lie to Robb again. Instead he gives him a tight smile. “I’ll bring them back.”

Robb’s jaw clenches but he unbuckles his belt and the sword hanging from it. He holds them up to Jon, and Jon circles the belt around his waist, the weight of the sword comforting as it slaps his leg. They clasp hands, and then there is nothing more to be said. Jon turns the courser from Robb and towards the edge of camp and snaps the reins. I will never be a Stark, but I can still do the duty of one.

---

A fortnight Jon is on the kingsroad, following its twists and bends through a land ravaged by Gregor Clegane’s tender ministrations. He passes holdfasts gutted and left smoking ruins, ash fields put to the torch, abandoned towns whose inhabitants have long fled or been put to the sword. It fills Jon with a rage that makes him wish he could turn the courser back to Robb and an enemy that could be fought and cut and defeated on the field. But he doesn’t.

And too he doesn’t let himself think of Arya and Sansa as he rides, the sisters he can no longer call his. He can still picture the last time he’d seen Arya, the way her face had pinched as she watched him set out north along the kingsroad up to the Wall. Arya Underfoot the servants called her, never able to sit still, always running through Winterfell, and the thought of her prisoner in the Red Keep, trapped small and alone in a room that was no better than a cell, fills him with a sick ache. And Sansa… more ward than brother she’d always treated him, but the same sick fills him when he thinks of her defenseless against Joffrey.

---

He reaches King’s Landing late in the day, just as the sun has begun to fall. Even so he rides along the streets until he sits before the gate of the Red Keep itself, crimson washed walls rising in high towers above him. In the fading light he studies the shape of them, trying in vain to guess which Arya and Sansa are kept in. Huge the keep is, easily a match for Winterfell and able to engulf countless lesser castles within its walls. A slow kind of despair wells in Jon’s chest as he gazes up at it, but he forces it savagely back down. You knew this was what you’d face. Find a way inside. Find Arya. Find Sansa. And then find a way out.

---

The way comes only a few scarce days later.

Jon watches from beneath the eave of a house as the gold cloaks of the city watch form up before outside the gate of the Red Keep. In the handful of days since he’s arrived he’s quickly grasped the mood throughout Kingslanding, the churning ocean of hunger and bitter anger against the Imp and all the Lannisters. The guardsmen must grasp it to, for not one looks keen to be escorting the royal party.

Jon tugs down the hood of his cloak as the gate of the Red Keep swings open and in a cloak embroidered with the crowned Baratheon stag in gold thread Joffrey leads the way, face twisted in the same proud shit-eating expression Jon remembers from months before. Behind him rides the massive figure of the Hound with his snarling helm and a trio of the kingsguard in their flowing white cloaks. Tyrion follows with his swollen brow and mismatched eyes and behind him…

Jon’s heart jumps into his throat. Even without being able to see her face Sansa’s red hair, so like her lady mother’s, is unmistakable. She looks thinner than the last time he saw her, cheekbones gaunt, eyes sunken, but still just as achingly lovely as the day she’d left Winterfell.

Jon’s scans the riders behind Sansa, but of Arya there is no sign. She must have been left in the keep. It almost makes him grin. She always was untamable even for septa Mordane.

The gold cloaks close around the king’s party as it passes through the Red Keep’s iron gate, and Jon shadows them as they begin down the tight streets of Kingslanding, slinking through the crowd of unwashed and sullen faces watching the procession from windows and doorways. An old man spits at the ground, another mutters under his breath about bread, but Jon barely notes them. All his attention is on Sansa where she rides beside the Imp on a chestnut courser. Silently Jon curses Tyrion and every kind thought he’d ever had for the little man. Wait and watch, he tells himself, a bitter taste in his mouth. You can’t do anything now. Not without Arya.

A half hour brings them to the docks, and then it is an hour of standing in the midday sun as prince Tommen weeps, princess Myrcella kneels to accept the high septon’s blessing, and Joffrey wrinkles his nose at all. Sansa stands beside him, hands held demurely before her, ocean breeze playing with the strays of her red hair. An uneasy feeling settles in Jon’s stomach as the minutes tick by, an unwanted thought gnawing away at him under the sun until he has no choice but to face it: what if she loves Joffrey? Last Jon saw her she’d been in his company as they made to leave Winterfell, laughing at some jest he’d made, cheeks pink and pleased. For all that he’d once thought her his sister Sansa has always been a distant figure, one glimpsed sewing with Jeyne and septa Mordane and the other ladies of Winterfell, a slip of a girl in slim dresses who loved songs of knights gallant and maidens fair. Was it so strange to think she would prefer her golden prince to the cold north?

He took father’s head, Jon reminds himself harshly. She can’t love him after that. She can’t.

Still the thought nags as the lines of Myrcella’s ship are cast off, Joffrey and the others mount their horses, and the gold cloaks shove back the crowd. A few in the crowd call out to the king’s good health, but most are silent and sullen, and the back of Jon’s neck prickles at the sea of bitter and unwashed faces around him.

The king’s party make it halfway up Aegon’s High Hill when a shout comes the front of the procession and the whole thing churns to a halt. Off to the side Jon cannot see it, but the shout is follow a moment later by a scream, and then rage is ripping through the crowd, bodies surging against the line of gold cloaks like water sloshed in a bowl. Jon is near enough to the back of the crowd to avoid the crush of bodies, but even still he must shove a man back as he slips to the nearest house, heart hammering in his chest as he pulls himself up by one of the struts to scan the crowd below.

All before Jon is chaos, bodies churning and surging against the thin line of gold cloaks, shouts of bread and brotherfucker filling the air. A rock whizzes inches from Jon’s head as a woman lobs it at where the king’s column is scattering, ripping apart as half surge forward and the other half are caught in the grasp of the crowd. Jon glimpses the Hound standing head and shoulders above the surging mass of bodies, watches as he roars and strikes the man before him, teeth spraying the air.

And, finally, Jon finds what he’s looking for.

A few feet from the Hound Sansa huddles on her chestnut courser, the sleeve of her silk dress ripped, face glazed and stunned. Jon looks only long enough to mark her before plunging into the crowd, shoving and pushing his way until he’s almost beside her. A ring of men circle her, shouting and reaching out to try and grab the horse’s reins as it rears its head back.

Arya. Jon pauses, and for that pause he hates himself. Sansa’s horse rears, the crowd around her drawing back, and Jon clenches his jaw hard enough for his teeth to ache and darts into the opening. Sansa’s foot has slipped out of the stirrup and he shoves his foot into it and hauls himself into the saddle in front of her. He grabs her hand and wraps her arm around his waist before kicking his heels into the courser, spurring it forward through the sea of raging bodies around them.

Hands grasp at them, and Jon rips his sword from its scabbard. He slams the pommel into the cheek of a woman clawing at his leg and slashes at a man grabbing the reins of the courser. Blood sprays the air as the man falls back, the rest of the crowd before them scattering as the courser plunges forward, and then they are past the worst of it. A stone whistles past Jon’s head. Unwilling to let go of Sansa’s hand around his waist he grabs the courser’s reins with the hand still gripping his sword, and does the best he can to yank them in the direction of a narrow side alley.

The roar of the crowd follows them into the alley, but none of the crowd itself does. Jon doesn’t try and guide the courser, just lets it have its head down a flurry of roads and alleys, Sansa’s hand crushed in his. Dirty faced men and women spit curses and a few fling dung at them as they ride pass, but the naked steel in his hand keeps them from doing more.

They reach an abandoned stretch of cramped street and Jon shoves his sword back in its scabbard and reins the courser to a stop. He jumps down from the horse, but Sansa flinches away as he pulls her down after him. “Where are you taking me?” She shrinks back, shaking her head, blood trickling from a gash in her scalp, voice babbling. “Oh please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise I won’t.”

“Sansa, stop,” Jon shoves his hood back, half ripping it as he does. He pushes her to arm’s length, thrusts his face in hers. “It’s me.”

Her eyes widen and she stops struggling. “Jon,” she breathes, “ Jon .”

He nods, droplets of sweat flicking from his slicked hair. “Where are they keeping Arya?”

Sansa’s eyes focus and she fists the sleeves of his tunic with more strength than he thought possible in her slender fingers. “They don’t have Arya. She disappeared when they took father, and they haven’t found her.”

Jon curses under his breath. Where in the city would he have gone if he were her? He looks back and forth down the alley, cursing the futility of it, cursing the old gods and new, cursing Joffrey and Cersei and Tywin and every Lannister back to Lann the Clever himself. I won’t leave you. But they cannot stay. That much Jon knows. Sansa is too valuable for the Lannisters to do anything less than scour the city for her, turn over every brown bowl and pisspot in Flea Bottom.

“Fire!” Someone shouts in the distance, and Jon looks up to see a plume of grey smoke muddying the sky. He clenches his teeth hard enough for them to ache, but still stays rooted to the spot, unable to stay and unwilling to move.

It is Sansa who decides for him. She grabs his hand, tugs him back to the horse. “We have to go. You don’t know Joffrey. He’ll search everywhere for me, and if he finds you he’ll take your head like he did father’s.”

I’ll find you, Arya, Jon swears silently as he heaves himself into the saddle and helps Sansa up behind him, but he hates how weak the words echo even in his own mind as he kicks in his heels to start the courser down the street, smoke beginning to choke the sky above them.

I have plans for where this story is going to go, but until I finish Jon of the Kingsguard it’s on the backburner in terms of priority. Still, if you’re interested you can follow me here or on AO3.

#my fic #gotfic #jonsa #jonsafic #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa fic #actually jonsa #southern wolves

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