#with your top warrior an old man only acting on direct orders not confident enough to do the sentencing

[ladystoneboobs]

sorry to revive this long thread, but i did not get a note from tumblr that op had reblogged my reblog, but now i can see that you did.

i don't disagree with any of your response but i think we're talking about two different things

yeah, i was basically replying to all parties in this discussion so it may have been a bit all over the place.

so why would he recognize the legitimacy of sansa's forced marriage?

see, i maintain he only kinda does, or at least the legitimacy of tyrion's rights to wf through sansa. i do think practicality of sansa's circumstances still bears on robb later disinheriting her. it's not so much that he believes their marriage is to be respected once vows were sworn, status quo, easily allowable as any other arranged marriage, as that he knows it is legally binding nonetheless and would be accepted by most of southern westeros. but once he's frickin' dead, what he feels and believes doesn't even matter, so he just needs a back-up plan, a will so that his loyalists can know his true wishes on the matter.

idt those loyalists would ever accept tyrion as lord of wf (esp w/o even a half-stark child), no more than robb's enemies would accept jon's oathbreaking. robb is a king only recognized by his own subjects/once-possible allies while he and a bunch of other people with varying loyalties refuse to recognize the lannister regime in kl. it makes sense they would all have different ideas about the succession to wf too. but he can't just say "if i die childless, you can't let our enemies take wf!". there has to be an alternative for his loyalists to follow, preferably a male claimant old enough to fight their enemies to reclaim wf, if need be. jon's nw oath is an especially sticky point moreso than his bastardy but the only known non-lannister alternative is a distant cousin in the vale. the absence of a new heir on robb's death w/o children = instant succession crisis, which is kinda what's happening anyway since his will never made it to jon in time.

if you haven't reached this part in your re-read, here's the relevant bits in storm.

“He[Tyrion]’s the Kingslayer’s brother. Oathbreaking runs in their blood.” Robb’s fingers brushed the pommel of his sword. “If I could I’d take his ugly head off. Sansa would be a widow then, and free. There’s no other way that I can see. ... " -Catelyn IV, aSoS [Robb, to Cat:]"If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. [...] That dwarf must never have the north.” “No,” Catelyn agreed. “You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son.” [Robb, again:]"Arya’s gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they’ll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains to me." -Catelyn V, aSoS

this does not read at all to me like robb respects sansa's marriage vows more than jon's nw vows. that would require an equivalent willingness to like, bring war upon the nw or at least murder lc mormont to get jon back. power is a shadow etc., so sansa's marriage is as real as the number of people accepting and enforcing it, no matter what her treasonous family may think. hence why even sansa's mother, heretofore her greatest champion in robb's camp, gives her up for lost and says she and her lannister children can never inherit now. it's just one more bitter pill of the feudal patriarchy and civil war that catelyn swallows bc she's resigned to it and feels there's nothing else to be done. robb is certainly no feminist but he does think brides being forced into marriages is bad when it's bad for him too. (in that sense it's not sansa's lack of consent that matters, so much as robb's, who should be the one arranging her marriage) the mechanics of sansa's pow wedding ceremony aren't too different from some of those arranged by the bride's own family (eg, lysa's tears before her wedding), but robb, influenced by his lannister hatred (and prob more than a little ableism), sees it as unusually monstrous. he posits that tyrion will not only rape sansa but murder her as soon as he gets the heir he needs from her. (which i guess would still put him above ramsay torturing his wife to death without even trying for kids, but still feels implausible.)

i think we are agreed on the lady hornwood point and it does drive me crazy too (for various other reasons as well, which i will not go into bc this is already so long), but i contend that it is actually a bit of a hole in the worldbuilding. grrm does make mistakes, but he also had to contrive a lot of events just so to not only have theon take wf but have ramsay there the whole time too so that theon ends the book as ramsay's prisoner. i've always felt theon's conquest by trickery would not work with an older and/or more competent leader was still in charge there, and enough other people have said the castle should never have been so depleted of guards no matter which bannerman was threatened or how so i'm pretty confident in that assertion. bran fails the age/experience qualification and i'd say ser rodrik is maybe not so qualified to be acting ruler of the entire north either. gods love him, but maybe not the sharpest sword in the armory. the whole hornwood mess only got as far as it did bc nobody at wf felt confident about a naming a new heir w/o getting king robb's input first. then ramsay swooped in and was seemingly shot with arrows while fleeing arrest, but it seems ser rodrik did not feel confident enough to behead "reek" himself either and thought robb might need his testimony as a witness. and with that, the old man not only affected theon's fate, he sealed his own death warrant too.

Regarding the sham marriage thing, I very much do believe that it's a matter of illustrating both the difference between the rights of a lord and those of a woman - and moreover, that they're both pretty well setup. The fact that the sham marriage thing is first mentioned in A Game of Thrones and consistently upheld as a worldbuilding point is, in my opinion, pretty decent worldbuilding. Moreover, it seems to be repeated across several plotlines in the service of this framing of Westerosi marriage as both repressive and violent - and, of course, to me seems to serve the purpose of having us question even structures that appear familiar as tools of feudalism.

could you remind me where it's mentioned in agot? the two examples i have noticed are ramsay's kidnapping of lady hornwood in acok and sansa's forced marriage to tyrion in asos

looking at these examples as an illustration of the differences in rights of lords and ladies though is a compelling argument, because even robb (good sweet young just king robb) says in the same conversation with cat that sansa is lost to them and tyrion is the legal heir to winterfell BUT we can figure something out to free jon from his vows as a man of the night's watch and legitimize him as a stark by my royal decree

i think it's still shaky that robb would extend this established northern custom to southron lords who are his direct rivals in an ongoing war

but it is illustrative of the general gender dynamics of westeros that jon can be given his inheritance rights and freed from his freely-given lifelong vows via on-a-dime royal decree but lady sansa is in some sort of iron clad unbreakable bond sworn before southern gods that establishes tyrion as direct heir to winterfell

because at that point it doesn't matter that everything supporting the legitimacy of sansa's marriage is a load of bullshit and everything that could possibly free jon from his vows and legitimize him as heir is more or less made up on the spot. it matters that jon is a man and sansa is a woman.

[lightchildofthespring]

The fantastic adventures of Takeru Takaishi

Chapter 4: Old friend

Summary: with no news from his henchmen, who had gone up the hill after the revolutionaries, the lord of Turtle Island has a conversation with the monk. The mysterious cleric sounds like a young man, but doesn’t act like one. The Goddess, the Devil, the Angel of Death, the Light stealer... the mystery behind Koushiro’s curse begins to be unveiled by his oldest friend.

Shigeo Yamanaka was very surprised by the visit of a member of the Order of the Nameless Monks that morning. They were the highest order in the hierarchy of the Church, having only the High Priestess above them, and they were said to be the most skilled warriors in the world. The one who entered his house unceremoniously had the voice of a young man, but something in his way of talking denounced more age and experience than that person should have.

The monk told him that the Goddess herself had given him the mission of helping Yamanaka destroy the revolutionaries on that island. Yamanaka wasn't sure he could trust that man, but to oppose a nameless monk could bring grave repercussions, such as losing his title of Lord of Turtle Island. Besides, sending his armed henchmen up the hill to hunt down the rebels would probably not cause too many losses, considering that the revolutionaries usually ran from battles they couldn't win. What caused him apprehension, though, was to be left alone in the mansion with that cleric who, not satisfied in sending away his henchmen, also ordered Yamanaka's employees to leave the place for the rest of the day.

Hours passed and the night fell. The smoke that had been seen on the hill earlier had already dissipated. Yet, there was no sign of anyone returning from that place. His men largely outnumbered the rebels, there should be no possibility that they could have lost. The noble kept telling himself that, attempting to remain calm. His men couldn't have been defeated! It was impossible!

But what if it wasn't? It became too hard to divert his mind from that possibility. He sent everybody there! Everybody! If the revolutionaries, by some miracle, killed them all, Yamanaka would be left without enforcers! Who would collect the taxes? Who would punish the insolent and ungrateful peasants? What about the servants? Who would keep them under control?

Then, a different and more visceral fear emerged. In the off chance that he lost all his henchmen, who would keep the Lord of Turtle Island safe? Those ignorant peasants would invade his property and steal his valuable possessions! Those brutes would threaten his life in exchange for richness they didn't deserve! The Yamanaka house had served the Empire for almost one thousand years, which was the same as serving the Goddess! How could he accept that the blessings received by his family, a true reward for their hard work and loyalty, could be tainted by simple-minded commoners who didn't know their place?

Yamanaka took a deep breath. There was nothing good at letting his imagination get wild. That cleric, a true messenger of the Goddess, had assured him that things would work out fine. Weren't the nameless monks known for being undefeatable? The noble had nothing to fear when a carrier of divine grace had vowed to protect him. Nevertheless, he was still standing in front of the large window of his living room, trying to spot anything suspicious in the dark. Without Yamanaka noticing it, the monk took the liberty to take two glasses of wine from a cabinet. He approached Yamanaka and offered him one of the glasses while taking a sip from the other.

“I thought monks weren't allowed to drink alcohol,” Yamanaka commented, astonished at the audacity of that man, who was treating himself to such expensive wine.

Shouldn't monks be frugal? Shouldn't they avoid earthly pleasures? That man was certainly a disgrace to the Church! Yamanaka wished  he could see the other's face, which remained mostly covered by the cloak's hood, so that he could give the description to one of his friends in the court, who would certainly alert the High Priestess about the inadequacy of having such a disrespectful man as part of the Church's highest order!

The monk smirked, confusing Yamanaka. He couldn't imagine how anything he had said could have been perceived as funny.

“You seem like someone very knowledgeable on the matters of religion” the cleric told him. “How about I put that to a test? It'd help to pass the time, don't you agree?”

Yamanaka's annoyance dissolved as terror took over his being. He had heard stories about the ways the nameless monks tested people's faith through the centuries. In all those stories, he didn't remember about someone who had passed the test. The punishment for failing, as everybody knew, was excommunication. Was that monk really such a petty person, did that man have such a low soul, that he would get revenge over an innocent remark about wine? Especially when that cleric was the one in fault while Shigeo Yamanaka had never done anything wrong in his entire existence?

���Let's see...” the monk said. The amusement in his voice was undeniable, “what can you tell me about Justine the Great?”

Yamanaka relaxed. That should be the easiest question in the world. Maybe that cleric really just wanted to pass the time. Why did his imagination have to be that much of a burden?

“The first Empress was the mightiest warrior to ever live. She never lost a battle and conquered the entire Old Continent by the time she was 34 years old,” Yamanaka spoke with absolute confidence. “When she died, right after giving birth to her son Marius, it is said that pure white light rose from her body, marking her ascension to the Heavens. That consolidated the already popular belief that Justine was never an ordinary human, but a goddess incarnated. The only Goddess to ever bless our world!”

The monk laughed. Yamanaka was perplexed at the reaction. In the good old days, that lack of respect for the Goddess would demand death by fire!

“Such passion! Such faith! You remind me of myself when I was younger,” the monk told him.

“I am older than you!” Yamanaka stated. “In my very long life, I had never met anyone nearly as blasphemous as you, monk!”

“Is that so? How lucky must you be...” the cleric's voice suddenly became cold and low. Nervous, Yamanaka drank some of the wine that he had been offered.

“I had a blasphemous friend, once...” the monk said, gazing out of the window. “My sister and I rescued him from the sea, I remember he was too terrified to speak. We arranged a place for him at the Izumi farm, which was close to ours. Mr. and Mrs. Izumi were old and needed help... he said that he wanted to help people... back then, I believed in everything he said...”

“Why are you telling me about a random friend of yours?” Yamanaka inquired.

“Oh, my apologies...” the monk had irony in his voice, “is there something else you wish to discuss?”

“As a matter of fact, there is!” Yamanaka stated. “For instance, why hasn't any of my henchmen returned yet? How long could it take for them to hunt those damn rebels? You told me it would be an easy victory!”

“Your henchmen saw the Devil and ran away,” the monk informed. “They won't come to this place, but the revolutionaries will.”

“What did you just say?” Yamanaka believed that the other man had a strange sense of humor.

“You remind me of the Lord of Turtle Island we had when I was growing up, Shigeo...”

“Don't call me by my first name, young man!” Yamanaka scolded the other. “Does your insolence know no limits! This is definitely not the behavior I expect from a holy man!”

“When the plague came, that man didn't care about the people who were dying,” the monk continued his story, ignoring the other. “He hid behind the walls of his castle, praying that he could be spared...” his tone became increasingly darker, which sent chills down Yamanaka's spine, “I've always wondered what would have happened if at least he had tried to help... my parents... my sister... maybe they could've been saved. But that lord was a selfish pig who only had contempt for the people who served him. Just like you...”

“Now, that's enough!” Yamanaka roared. “I don't care about your rank! I'll denounce you to the Emperor himself! And the Emperor shall have the High Priestess excommunicate you! I'm from an important noble family and won't tolerate anyone disrespect-”

The monk took out a sword that had been concealed under his cloak and pointed it to the noble's direction. Yamanaka fell on his back. He hadn't let go of the glass of wine he had been holding, which had broken and was now cutting the palm of his hand.

Was he going to die? He had never seriously considered that anyone would have the nerve to spill the blood of a noble man like him. That was inconceivable! To kill a noble was to insult the Emperor! It was an insult to the Goddess herself! As a cleric, that man should know that better than anyone! Or did he think that, for being a nameless monk, he was entitled to disrupt the natural order of the world?

The monk approached him and put the tip of the sword on the old man's neck, who was shaking from the top of his head to his toes. He wanted to protest against the ignominy of it all. But, disgracefully, his self-preservation instinct seemed to have proven itself as stronger than his honor. Therefore, he begged:

“P-Please, don't k-kill me... I-I didn't mean to offend you in a-any way... I'll give you a-anything you w-want... I'll do a-anything...”

“Do you know what would be fun? What about we continue with our little test?” the assailant proposed in low voice. “Tell me about the Devil, Shigeo.”

Yamanaka knew that his life depended on him answering that right. Unfortunately, that knowledge only made him more anxious. All the things that he had learned about the subject were escaping his mind in great speed. Desperate, he tried to answer before he forgot what the question even was.

“T-The stealer of L-Light...” Yamanaka stuttered, “h-he t-tried to s-steal a s-soul from H-Heaven and g-got p-p-punished... c-cursed w-with i-infinite d-deaths...”

“That's the basic version of the story,” the monk commented. “The soul he tried to steal belonged to the kindest and sweetest person who had ever lived. When she was taken by the plague, I thought my life was over... but my friend...” he trembled, “he promised that he would help her... the next thing I knew, Justine herself was in front of me, and she told me...” a single tear was visible rolling down his cheek, “... she told me that my friend's sins had been so grave that it wasn't enough to just curse him. My sister, the one he had tried to rescue, was sent to the deepest dungeon in Hell. And the Goddess gave me the mission of purging Koushiro's soul until it's completely purified... I was to kill my best friend again and again, until his soul was saved... only then, she would release her... to save my sister, I have become the Angel of Death.”

At that point, Yamanaka was completely convinced that the cleric was out of his mind and lost hope that he could be able to reason with him.

“I believe the revolutionaries have arrived,” the monk announced, turning to the door of the living room. A muscular blond man and a woman with orange hair kicked the door open and entered the room, accompanied by five other people. They all were pointing their guns at Yamanaka, who was still on the floor, lying on his back. The blond man shot the monk twice. The bullets, however, stopped in midair. They turned incandescent and melted, never reaching their target.

“He really is invulnerable... just like Koushiro said...” the redhead woman murmured.

“I-Impossible!” another woman, with purple hair, exclaimed. She had a disturbed look on her face.

“What a lovely group you are,” the monk commented, bemused. “I don't feel like killing you tonight. It would be better to get out of my way.”

“You promised you would protect me!” Yamanaka shouted, desperate. “I did everything you told me to do, monk! You can't just leave me with those bandits!”

“Are you really that dense, Shigeo?” the monk asked, annoyed. “Were you paying attention to anything I said? I never intended to protect you! I simply used you to lure my friend to this place!”

The glass window behind the cleric and the noble was broken as six bullets, in sequence, were shot from the outside. The bullets were stopped by an invisible field surrounding the monk and, in a matter of seconds, they melted.

Astonished, Yamanaka watched as that strange man turned to the broken window, beaming. The monk took his hood off, allowing the wind to mess his large brown hair.

At the garden, outside the window, a man drenched in blood stood, still holding the shotgun.

“How many times did you die on your way here, Koushiro?” the monk inquired, jumping to the garden. “Honestly, you embarrass me at times. What was the big idea, anyway? You know you can't hurt me. Not physically, at least.”

“I was simply trying to get your attention,” Koushiro informed. “Sometimes, you can be so easily distracted...”

“You should know by now that nothing can distract me from you,” the other said, pointing his blade at Koushiro's direction. “Shall we dance, old friend?”

Koushiro looked at him with sadness and replied:

“What other choice do I have, Taichi?”

[meapistrash]

Beautiful Nightmare - SS Fanfiction