#young Tywin and making the Lannister name one to be feared

[lagosbratzdoll]

Just thought of the discourse that I’m going to have to suffer through when HBO adapts the conquest. I wish the other houses were more interesting so they’d adapt them instead but here we are.

[starsofjewels]

GREETINGS!! was wondering if you feel up for it if you could do a tyrion x autistic reader? idk how you could make autism fit into the GoT world but I always feel like an outsider even in the real world and i feel tyrion would be one of the few who'd actually be accepting and not judgemental

A Kitty Cat in the Lion’s Den

Tyrion Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

(Feat.) Tywin Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

CONTENT: Autistic meltdown, small! Mention of blood/ injury, self-deprecation, the Lannisters are their own warning

Word count: 1.5k (lil pookie bear)

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Hi, beautiful. I absolutely loved this request !! This was only semi triggering to write, and I hope you like it. <3

I’ve just started back at college, so the drip might be dry (not that it wasn’t to begin with). I may or may not have published this during a Free Study period…

This is proof I don’t just write Gregor Clegane fics. But I do love big squishy man and his cock.

I think I probably need to make a masterlist..

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(A teeny PSA before we begin- I, unsurprisingly given the shit I upload on here, am autistic. I’ve struggled with it my whole life, and this is an interpretation of my own experience with autism. ASD is, as the name suggests, a spectrum, so this can’t really be a generalised fic. I put my own personal experiences with my condition into this, so if you’re also autistic/ otherwise neurodivergent and this doesn’t fit your vibes, that’s why. I can’t really explain it any other way, so yeah, here you go.)

Your entire life has served as a reminder that, whether by your own fault or some cruel will of the Gods, you are not wanted. You are the outsider, the youngest Lannister, not beautiful enough to marry off young and, decidedly, not male. Lord Tywin is consistently busy with his duties as the Hand, Tyrion hides with his wines and his whores, and Jaime has his own place in the Red Keep. You are forced to sit with your sister and her ladies, who talk too loudly and prattle on about nonsense.

Cersei, you have long established, does not like you. You aren’t really sure anyone likes you, in the traditional sense, but you know that your sister only keeps you around for fear of Tywin’s wrath. There is something in the back of your mind that remembers a younger, softer Cersei putting you in her lap, of brushing your hair and putting it in gold bows. But, that was before. Before you could walk or talk properly, before you spouted random facts on unasked for topics, before she realised you were different.

Everyone knows you are different, and no one can explain why. Not even you. All they know is to stay away from you, all they know is they’ll never understand how your little mind works.

So, you sit as nicely as you can on the outside of Cersei’s circle of ladies, and you try to focus on your sewing. You don’t like sewing, but it’s what all of the noblewomen do to pass the time, and all you want is to fit in.

“Your sewing is coming on well, my lady.”

The septa tilts your sewing slightly to look at it just a little more. It’s supposed to be a gift for your father, and it is not good. You see every uneven stitch, all of the oddities and bumps in your work that make it so you can hardly look at it. You hate it, and you hate that you can’t even sew properly.

“The stitching is all wrong…”

She takes your hands as you try, again, to pick out your newest stitch, a learned behaviour with you. Despite being with you near your whole life, since you weaned off of your nurse, you aren’t sure the septa completely understands your fascination of perfection,

“It is fine,” Her voice is soft, but you can feel her disappointment, “you are still learning, my lady, some mistakes are natural. You do not need to pull it apart- again.”

You jump when Cersei’s ladies giggle at some joke you haven’t heard, the woman beside you takes your hand, and you are reminded why you keep her so close. At least, in some way, she understands what you like and what upsets you.

Tea is served for the ladies. They give you what Cersei likes, what her ladies eat, green and red things that squish and squelch in your mouth and taste like you’ve eaten rags. And the queen sees you push them around your plate, and scoffs.

“At least try it, sister,” She sips from her wine. You feel each of her noblewomen shift, in turn, to look at you, “a Lannister lady can’t just survive off of the children’s food you eat, we can’t all eat nothing but cakes and plain bread all day.”

But you don’t, and you starve. Tywin will get you something later, you’re sure of it, as he sighs, and gently suggests you’ll need a more varied diet if you’re to marry a good husband.

The women’s giggles practically turn to cackles, which do not stop for what feels like hours. You wish they’d stop, or that you could understand what they find so utterly hilarious, so at least you may join their hysteria. You’ve put your sewing down in your lap, and you fiddle with your hair. The sept doesn’t like that, she guides your work back into your hands.

“Your father doesn’t like it if you mess your hair, sweet girl, you know that,” Her hands find your hair, carefully untangling the knots you’ve made, “try a few more stitches.”

And then, inevitably, it happens. You prick your finger on your needle, and a soft ruby comes from your noble, incomprehensible skin.

Throwing your project to the ground, you rush off as fast as your legs can manage. No one comes to find you.

You are long practised with the subtle art of trying not to cry. You pace back and forth, away from anything and everything, your hands in your hair as you do. The tears in your eyes hurt, they make you tired, and only add to your humiliation. You can do nothing right, why can you do nothing right?

You think of your sister, of perfect, beautiful, poised Cersei- She has a gaggle of women to do her bidding she is loved, and desires and you doubt she paces the halls trying not to cry. She is the lion queen, and you are her kitty-cat of a sister.

And then, you hear your name called. Followed by hurried footsteps toward you. Tyrion takes your hands in his, but you cannot even look at him.

“Has someone upset you? Cersei?”

All you can do is give him whines in response. You feel a sob bubbling in your throat, and you cannot give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Tell me.”

So you look down, you watch his eyes change from confusion, to the pity you are so used to seeing. But he is your older brother, and you know he won’t run back to Cersei, like Jaime would.

It comes in one, huge splurge, as tears fall against your skin and ruin the pretty powders your maids spent so long putting on you this morning,

“I- Was making a gift for Father-” You gasp, “And they didn’t give me anything to eat, and- and the sewing was terrible, but Septa is lying and saying it’s good and-” Another. “And I cut myself!”

His arms wrap around you, and he puts his head against you. Though much smaller than you, it offers greater comfort than he knows it does. All you can do is sob. You feel like a child.

No words are spoken as he takes you down to the kitchens, and puts you at the staff table. You are given something you eat with relish, and get a plate of pudding for your effort. There is no need for you to have any medical attention for your injury, but he has it wrapped anyway. A psychological comfort, if nothing else.

Tyrion helps you into bed, letting you reach out for the rag dolls your sister claims you’re too old for. You want your father, you want him to go and tell off Cersei, but you have your brother instead, and he at least semi-understands what it’s like to be different.

“I’m sorry,” you turn and look up at him,

“Sorry?”

He stands, walking to your window to look out at the courtyard below.

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

Tyrion is going somewhere with this, you know that much, but what, you are left wondering,

“I see… my brother.”

“Yes, you do. But the world? What does the world see? They see a drunk, lustful little man with a lion on his chest he doesn’t deserve.”

Something in you knows that it’s true. Tyrion is nothing more than his condition to the eyes of most in the Keep, most of the kingdom.

“You, you look like a Lannister. Your brokenness is inside. And I wish I could understand it.”

“It’s alright-” You sit up, clutching your doll, “It’s just… what it is. I have you, I have Father.”

Tyrion almost scoffs, he comes back from the window, passing you your water,

“Yes, you get Father, but that’s because you are utterly adorable.”

“I am adorable, aren’t I?”

“And humble, it appears.”

When Tyrion leaves, he kisses your forehead, and you know he is going to tell Father. You are the one thing they share something of a common interest in, and you suspect Tywin will make an appearance at some point. You’re right, of course.

It is Tywin’s heartbeat you listen to to calm yourself down for sleep. Your father strokes your hair, half-dozing himself. A soft, sweet moment that you are reminded Tyrion doesn’t have the privilege of.

Cersei is no longer allowed to be your main caretaker, you spend your afternoons out in the gardens, or sit entertaining yourself in Tywin’s solar. Tyrion takes you on walks, and there is something of a peaceful normality brought about.

You are still terribly disappointed in how Tywin’s gift turns out, it looks like a child made it, and when you become obviously quite upset over the manner, you have the Old Lion and his younger son to calm you. He loves it, he assures you, and Tyrion is so enamoured by it he requests his own. You know they are simply making you feel better, but you let it happen anyway.

And, perhaps, life is not so bad after all.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

A Vision of Never

Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 5.2k

Warnings: recent childbirth, talk of pregnancy and labour, past character deaths, fluff, child rearing

Notes: A little "what if" about Robb having lived, in this version of the story the world isn't ending and Luwin is still alive, just pretend it makes sense. Previous Main Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Things had only accidentally worked out well this way. The timing of his sons outburst correlated perfectly with Robb pressing his lips to your forehead, and muttering for you to sleep. It hadn’t been as long this time, and while going just as smoothly, it was far easier on Robb’s mind not to have you labouring for so many hours, only so much Maester Luwin being able to do to ease the pain in your state. Still some time, but not as many hours luckily. The first labour near two years ago now, Robb had as much time as he needed to stay by your side.

The war had moved fast after his Uncle Edmure had married Rosalin Frey. Robb had been as relieved as his mother to find Arya alive, but none too happy that The Hound was the one with her, and subsequently had assumed Robb would pay for his own sisters return seconds after learning she was even still alive but it was you who simply tossed a bag of gold at him, knowing that men of House Clegane were none too pleasant nor peaceful to argue with.

One by one both his sisters were found alive and safe and once word reached shortly to them that not only was King Joffery dead, but Tywin Lannister too, they all knew there was nothing left for them here. No true war to be fought and with the Frey’s loyalty through marriage, what scattered remains of the Lannisters were never making it anywhere near close enough to reclaim the Riverlands nor even consider branching North. They, for now, could go home. And the timing couldn’t have been better.

You were able to spend your final two moons pregnant in Winterfell where you belonged, and while Robb and his siblings prepared the North for a rule that had not been seen for some three hundred years, his mother helped you prepare for your labour. And yet somehow, near two years passed after that and the situation was much the same.

Only now more snow properly fell on the ground and stuck, and the healing of everything passed was getting a little easier, making celebrating this just a bit better.

Much like you two discussed, your child was born a boy, and named promptly after the father you both went to war to rescue in the first place. Normally Ned was well behaved, but Robb suspected he could faintly hear you in labour and that made him upset. Staying with his uncles and aunts, eventually Arya had to be the one to gently knock on the door, poking her head in interrupting the moment trying not to run in and fawn all over the newborn this time, saying that Ned was beyond fussy at this point and none of them could get him to calm down.

That worked out, you were barley awake any longer, your much exerted strength leaving you as Robb had a chance to go find his son, asking his mother to watch over you all while you slept. Something she was more then happy to do, being a grandmother suited her well. Robb suspected too, it somewhat helped fill that hole in her heart that Eddard Stark’s death had left behind. It made him glad, she was never happier then reuniting with her children, and it made her happier so to have a grandson, one named after the husband she lost. He was too young to understand yet, but little Ned helped heal this family more then he knew.

Now though, while giving you a chance to sleep, Robb had worried his sons fears about hearing you in pain that it was over and when you woke up he could come see. For now, he kept him distracted and Robb did that well.

None in Winterfell could say that being King took away his duties as a father. By the time his son was able to start walking, it was easier for you to share raising him. Robb could now do his work with his men, and his son there and not need every ounce of attention on him as a small infant needed. Nearing his second name day was even better. He could walk, and was speaking so much more. You insisted otherwise, but Robb knew his son was so smart just because of you. The moment he uttered something resembling a true word, you had started to encourage it everyday, and here he was. A small boy of two, and when he wanted to be, a talkative little thing.

Currently stood behind him, the main hall was empty, as he held his son upright to stand on the table with his support, mimicking better the sight he’d see. Talking to him quietly about what it was Robb would do as King, and explain more then he could grasp, but Ned enjoyed when his father taught him these things. Turning partially, the sun shined through the windows just at the perfect angle that the reddish auburn of their Tully side matched in their curls. “Do you get bored?”

A grin shined on Robbs face with a laugh, “Do I get bored? What? In meetings?” His son nodding his head, Robb moved to stand a little more to the side where he kissed the side of his head. “Aye, I do. But listening to people I’d rather not, is one of my duties as King. If I can’t fix the small problems my people are having, how do they expect me to fix the big problems?” His face scrunching for a moment, Ned shook his head, Robb being able to understand he was agreeing with him.

More quiet now, Robb looked over his sons shoulder, seeing a more heavy blink in his eye. Asking, “You tired, pup?” Nodding, Robb smiled softly. “Yeah, you want to see if your mother’s awake before you have a nap?” He nodded again, and Robb prompted him to turn around. Scooping his son up into his arms, as his little ones held on meekly, his head falling more into his shoulder.

The path there Robb couldn’t hear it as well through the thick stone walls, but still faintly as the bells still rung. Not many places you had grown up where the bells rung for anything but horror and Robb had been determined to change that. He hadn’t considered just how much like his own father he was, the birth of his second child, a daughter, as the bells rung all day. The sound at least faded the further near his bedchambers he got, his son barley perking up much at the sound of your voice chatting with his mother. You sounded much more energetic then you had before.

“I’m surprised we didn’t know, Maester Luwin had said he was certain of everything.”

Catelyn sounded bemused herself as Robb turned the corner, approaching the door as you all came into sight. It had been quite the shock for everyone, and another reason it was such a suprise, the fact that this labour had gone so smoothly. Maester Luwin predicted it would be a girl, and he was right. But, he later had said that was sometimes uncommon but not impossible, that a mother could carry two children in her womb and none could tell. Your belly grew to be the same size as the last, being able to eat much better the entire pregnancy then catching you up in the last two moons, but none knew until his daughter had been born and you still laboured another child.

It was no wonder you had been so exhausted.

You looked bright eyed over at him as he walked in. The midwives had stayed to help to clean your appearance up despite Robb insisting he didn’t at all care that you looked a mess. Your loose dress had been pulled down as one babe was feeding from your breast. The other likely had been done already, swaddled, bundled and asleep in Catelyns hold. Your voice was still a bit raspy from the energy you had been shot of, but enthusiastic as your sons head perked up right away. “There’s my sweet boy.”

Instantly Ned had moved in Robbs hold, having predicted it as his arms stretched out “Mama,” Robb hushed in his ear to go easy on you before putting him down onto the bed. Making his way over carefully, he could stand only for as long as it took to match what he saw Robb do all the time, press a kiss to your cheek gently before his little legs gave out and sat down. Looking down at the baby, his bright green eyes just like yours looked back to you. “Daddy says I have a new sister and brother.”

Nodding, your gaze trailed down to the babe in your arms. “You do, this is your little brother, and your grandmother has your little sister, Lyanna.” Looking between you both, you nodded your head over to where Catelyn had begun walked to the bed, “Go on, she’s asleep but she really wants to meet you.”

Letting a free hand go long enough to push his curls off his forehead and press a kiss there before he begun moving to meet his sister. Robb had circled around to the other side of the bed where you were, sitting gently to face you as his eyes trailed down to the baby. “Going to be a lot harder to feed them yourself now that there’s two.”

Your grin was gentle and still a bit weak, but just as playful in your eyes. “Maester Luwin assures me as long as I have the patience for it, that won’t be a problem.” Robb only rolled his eyes in a jest before leaning closer. Cupping your cheek gently as he moved to press a kiss to your lips. Chaste and lingering but uncaring with only his mother in the room. Leaning back only enough to meet your eyes, his thumb ran over your soft cheek as you muttered, “I have a feeling this one will be the needy one.”

Nodding down to the baby, Robb smiled. Leaving your cheek to brush his hand over the baby’s back just soft enough that it didn’t interrupt him. “Are you insinuating our little Ned wasn’t needy with you as it was?” Protesting back that it was never as bad as he liked to joke it was, but Robb only laughed. “Maybe, I suppose we’ll see whose the needy one in the next few weeks won’t we? Who knows, with three wolves crying for your attention now, the needy one might be me.”

Halfheartedly hid Robb hear his own mother snap out with bemused ease, “That has always been the case.” Turning with his face twisting in mock offence asking what exactly she meant by that, his mother was sharing a highly entertained look with you behind him, knowing you gave a look that matched how amused she was with herself. “Out of all my children, you had always been the neediest as a baby.”

His gaze dripped downward to a look mocking of disapproval but she could read right through Robb. Especially when he could glance down and watch his son gently holding onto the edges of the blanket little Lyanna was wrapped in, as if knowing he didn’t want to interrupt her own sleep but watching with wide eyes. You caught him right away as he turned back, your own gaze unbearably sweet as Robb looked back.

Just in time as the baby finished, Robb helped you carefully lift him up to burp taking no time at all before his head dropped down a bit into your neck and shoulders much like Ned did with both of you. The baby though hid a bit in your hair, you could read the question in his eyes if you wished for him to take the baby but you shook your head. Happy to keep the little one close as Robb only fixed your dress for you, before leaning to kiss the back of his newborn sons head.

Sensing a figure coming up beside him, Robb turned partway to see Ned crawling over before grabbing him and picking him up onto his lap. Holding him gently, he muttered down, “You want to stay and nap in here?” The little Nod warmed both your hearts as you shifted, your arm raising enough so that he had the space to crawl into your side, curling into you right away and still small enough that he wasn’t in the way of the baby.

Turning to glance at his mother, Robb nodded to the other side of the bed. Moving to sit next to you, but not before reaching over, to gently take his daughter from his mother, holding her close as he smiled fondly at the sight. “I’ll let your men know not to intrude for the time being.”

Muttering a genuine thank you, Catelyn smiled with shining affection in her eyes. Her husband may not be here to see it, but she was so grateful that she was here to see it for him. Their first boy together, now with a growing family of his own. Twins, if she could tell Eddard now. That Robb didn’t just have his second child, but it was twins. Mother protect her, was this castle going to be full of chaos in no time with three Stark toddlers running around.

She could recall standing outside of the Twins right before Edmure’s wedding, and seeing how happy Robb was at your side and wishing for nothing but to be able to go home and try to rebuild. It felt almost out of reach then, but it was here, and she closed the door gently, watching as Robb carefully held his baby girl while sitting beside you. The family she always wanted Robb to have.

Your eyes trained down on your two young boys, you felt Robb warm at your side as you gently shifted just enough to lean somewhat against him. His warm voice so soothing in your ear, “Have I mentioned that I’m proud of you yet.” Muttering that yes he had, many times, Robb grinned. “Aye, but I will say it again. I’m so proud of you.”

Turning to meet his bright blue eyes, you both felt a comfort wave over you before looking back to your newest son. A whisper on your lips, “What are we going to name him?” A hum of question came from Robbs lips, so you clarified. “Your son, we’ve had Lyanna’s name picked out for years now. We never talked about another boy name.”

You could feel Robb grinning, but didn’t know why. “Yes we did.” Turning to look at him, while gently shifting the baby now that he was fast asleep to lay out in your arms, his head covered by the top of the blanket next to Lyanna’s, Robb continued. “We agreed on a name the same night we picked out the name for these two.” His head nodding down to first Lyanna and then Ned, who too had fallen asleep so quickly.

Your brows narrowed in thought, and Robb knew with a playful, bemused grin exactly the moment you recalled it. Your face dropping amusingly flat as you rolled your head to the side with a raised brow. “Robb, he is not going to like that and you know it.”

He only grinned more, kissing what of your head he could reach. “If he were bothered to come visit again before they were born, like he promised, he might have gotten a choice in the matter.” You muttered that he had a lot on his place, but Robb only settled that. “I know, love. I’m teasing, he has his reasons. But, we also have ours.”

Both of you looking to the baby, you could see it. How much the name would suit him, just as Ned suited your first boy, and Lyanna suited the little girl now asleep in her fathers arms. A laugh huffed through your breath as he asked what was it. “If you asked me what? Five? Six years ago, what my life would’ve looked like today, I’d never have said this.”

“Neither would I.” His thumb gently ran over his daughters cheek, both your sons has your green eyes, but Lyanna had his blue eyes. Ned was growing up to look like a perfect blend of both of you, but he was nothing but eager to see what these two grew up to look like, who’d look like who and everything else. “But I’d never want anything else.”

Meeting your gaze again, Robb leaned over once more as you tried to gently meet his lips. Nothing greedy or needing, but deep and lingering as your three small children slept all around you. Resting your heads against the other as you muttered more low, for his ears only. “Cersei tried warning me. About not to fall in love with you.” He tried looking at you closer, a scowl forming in his brows but you didn’t look away from where your thumb ran over youngest sons cheek. “Before we arrived in Winterfell, she tried to warn me. That you’d disappoint me one day, that you’d move on, not want me. To give you your children, and only ever love them because I’d never get it from you. She tried telling me something similar, if perhaps a bit less morose when I was a girl too. I’d think about who I’d marry one day, and never came up with an answer of a man I would genuinely love.”

Something distant but amused twisted in Robbs features as he spoke up, “Didn’t you sabotage Cersei once? When she tried publicly announcing a betrothal?” You laughed right away, the memory so clear as Robb joined. “Little did you know then, you were merely saving yourself for me.”

Sighing happily, you leaned back against him, his head resting more atop yours. “I should’ve known how easy I’d fall for you on our wedding night.” Elaborating at his further hum of question. “I was terrified of it all. If you’d want a bedding ceremony, the bedding itself. I was terrified. But you had convinced me to be comfortable in what? Minutes? It was strange how easy it felt to be willing to do it with you.”

His lips again pressed against your hair. “I know I seemed eager, but I really would’ve been alright if you didn’t want too. Would’ve helped you change into something more comfortable, and at least helped you get used to sleeping beside me.” You only muttered that you didn’t need help with that, and Robb laughed, trying to hold back not to wake Lyanna in his arms. “Aye, that was after I had taken you twice though. Hard to not fall asleep beside me when I had you clawing down my back.”

Hissing with an instant fluster, “I did not-”

Robb only cut you off, his face so bright and amused at your instant reaction as if you didn’t presently have three children together. “I had the marks for days to prove it, my love. You’re lucky I dress myself, otherwise you’d have come back to a reputation of yourself already being a little she wolf.” Flustered, you only muttered that he had given you that reputation in the army camp, Robb laughed again. “Wanted my men to know that nothing they could buy would beat what I had every night for free.”

Shaking your head, Robb could read the still flustered look in you but also something playful. He spoke again before you had the chance too, but with something he knew you didn’t expect. “I’m sorry it took so long. To give you a baby. You never said it, but I knew you were frustrated with yourself the longer it never happened.” He was right, you had never said it because you didn’t even wish to think it. You were scared to tell him when you finally were, thinking you’d burden him at the worst possible time.

But then you received the news. That Bran and Rickon were thought dead, and his own grandfather had passed. With Catelyn still imprisoned having released Jaime Lannister, and Edmure’s foolish search for glory leading to losing the chance both to kill The Mountain and aid in your fathers capture of Kings Landing, all felt lost. Robb felt he had nothing but you left, and only the small barley grown baby in your belly seemed like there was a shred of hope. Without that, he might have felt he didn’t have much left to fight for, and you dared not think what would’ve happened then. If Robb truly felt alone and betrayed by everyone around him.

Even now, sometimes you both pondered if this peace would stay. Word from the Riverlands of the happenings in Kings Landing would reach you both, and it seemed at least, that peace would not go away for some time. Your father still on a fight for the Iron Throne looked more promising now then ever before. With Tommen as King, young and sweet and inexperienced he held no chance. Cersei it seemed was busy making a mess of things worse for him, and part of you felt sympathy. She in a few weeks had lost her eldest son and her father, both of which were said to be done at the hands of her own brother. You knew Sansa was not involved. Petyr Baelish had helped her flee Kings Landing, but was intercepted by Dacey Mormont and a squadron of men.

Robb and Catelyn knew that he would try and hide her in the Vale with her aunt Lysa, and sent Dacey to retrieve her. Luckily, even without having met Dacey herself, going with a woman of the North, a woman whose own title was trusting, a sworn shield of Robb Stark, managed to get her back.

Once you were able to ride home, the Ironborn all but fled. They stood no chance against the full strength of the Northern army with Robb leading and yet you still heard no word of Theon. Bran and Rickon weren’t dead as feared, they had fled and returned once Robb had, but none knew where Theon was. You didn’t want to know, in truth. He had betrayed Robb, betrayed you, betrayed the Starks and the place that was more home to him then the Iron Islands ever would be and he ran like a coward.

He knew he didn’t have the Stark boys, and he must have feared Robb turning around to take his head. Torched the castle and fled, where he was now, Pyke, dead, or something far worse, you did not wish to hear of it. He chose his path, and he chose wrong. And he decided to live with the consequences. According to Roose Bolton, his bastard Ramsay had gotten to the castle after the Ironborn torched it and left.

But now? You all sat in Robb and your bedchambers. Winterfell rebuild, family all reunited again, and peace was found in the new again Kingdom. Your sweet son, little Ned with auburn curls just like his father and green eyes just like you, cuddled asleep in your side. The shining bright light he didn’t know he was, just your baby boy truly. In Robbs arms, his newborn daughter, small and sweet. Named after Ned Stark’s long passed sister, Robbs tribute to reunite them with new life as they reunited in death.

You had expected her. Maester Luwin said by the way you were carrying, and the sudden and frustrating new craving you had for sweets were all indications of a girl. Robb had been elated, not a single thought in his head but getting to have a little girl of his own. He had helped raise his little sisters, he would be perfectly prepared for a girl of his own.

Saying to you in these very chambers that night, you only a few moons in but showing earlier then you did even last time, Robbs hands were on your stomach all the time. He’d kiss your stomach saying goodnight to his daughter, then carefully bring little Ned to do the same, telling him to say goodnight to his sister. Only babbles at first, but once he started to speak it got better.

Even now, Robb had told him his sister’s name and he couldn’t quite say it perfectly. He knew the name, and how it sounded, but as he did with many words he could say them just not eloquently. “Lya” he called her. A feeling in you that would be her nickname for some time. Robb though, he had put his son to bed, and held you looking out the window as the snow fell that night many months ago, the same window you both stood together at, minutes before he pulled you into his bed.

One hand firmly on your stomach as he spoke. “I don’t want her growing up the way you did.” Silent as you let him elaborate, pulling you just a tad closer. “A distant father, not letting you feel loved the way a father should love his daughter. I don’t ever want our little girl to grow up feeling anything close to that.” You only muttered that you didn’t think that would be the case, but he insisted you listen. “Just because you know something, my love, doesn’t mean you don’t still worry about. Remember how you knew I thought you were beautiful all through your pregnancy and after, but you still worried I wouldn’t want you anymore?”

A laugh left you, Catelyn had to help you then. Telling Robb a sort of sickness of the mind infected new mothers and filled their heads with worries and doubts beyond reason and being a mother herself worked very hard to help you realize that you had nothing to fear. Even then, you still worried some days. Robb had you long passed that now, but that night he knew and understood why you’d think of your future daughter and fear her repeating your life.

But as Robb held little Lyanna now, an adorable baby girl who was at complete peace sleeping in his arms, Robb knew there was nothing to worry about. He adored Ned, and was very vocal about that fact and he’d be the same to his newborn child, both of them.

Seven hells, he thought. Twins. He wanted a large family with you, but the gods had just made that want so much easier for him to obtain. The confusion when you still seemed to labour after Lyanna only for Luwin to confirm you carried another babe in your womb, Robb almost laughed then. He was sat behind you to lean back against, a support as he refused to ever let the midwives tell him to leave. If you weren’t in such a state, he would’ve told you already how happy he was. It would be chaos, it would be quite something.

His son already about to reach two years of age, and now two newborn twins to the mix there was no easing either of you into this. It was here and you both would deal with it. His eyes glanced over to you, your newest son asleep in your arms, almost curling into you as if wanting to be close as possible to his mother, and little Ned asleep against your side. Your boys were all over you, and you would spoil them both he knew. Just as he would spoil Lyanna. His little princess would never go without feeling like one if Robb was to have his way.

Now with the birth of a second son, he had what some Lords referred to it as, an heir and a spare. He never cared to look at Ned like his heir, he was young, and new to the world and all that mattered to Robb was that they were loved. His two Princelings and his little Princess in his own arms, they were just titles. Things to present them to the court as.

In the everyday, his children would run amok in the corridors carefree and spoiled and happy. Thats all he cared about. After needing to lose his own father, and fight years in a war to have his children, he’d do everything he could to ensure they didn’t suffer anything close to the ways he did before having them.

Looking back over, you hadn’t yet taken your eyes off any of them. Swapping your glance between all three, even going so far as to shift how you held the baby, so little Ned could more comfortably rest his head in your lap. His little arms trying to wrap around you as if wanting to protect you in your sleep as your newest son snuggled close into your chest as if wanting to be as near you as possible. He grinned, you both were right, that one was going to be a needy child for your attention. And he knew you’d spoil him.

Many times already, he would gently or even playfully suggest that you let Ned breath a little, not coddle him so much. He was a northerner, a Stark. He was fierce and tough and you were bundling him to go out into the snow as if he were one a layer away from freezing to death. You wanted to protect him and show him love, and if he could only just barley persuade you to ease up with Ned, with this one, there was little chance of that.

Raising a daughter would be perfect for you. You half helped raise Robbs little sisters, you half raised your little sister in Shireen. You would do perfectly raising a girl, showing her the motherly nature that you never got in full that you should’ve. But, he had a feeling his newborn son was going to be attached to you at all times, a true wolf pup sticking to his mothers side. In a strange way, it was suiting.

What his little son would be like, and to whom he’d be like that with? He wouldn’t burden you with that thought. Already you refused to speak how disappointed you were. He had promised he would come back, come visit as he put it, “before you have the next one.” But, here you were, twins and not a sign that he was coming to visit. If Lyanna filled the memory of an aunt the Stark siblings never knew, and Ned shined over the castle to reinstate faith they hadn’t had since the boys namesake was killed, then naming the baby boy in your arms was suiting, if not for everyone elses sake, but for yours.

Something in Robb’s brother struggled to accept his offer to return to Winterfell where be belonged, and struggled further now to even convince himself to visit no matter how much they all, but more importantly, you, wished for him to. But you wouldn’t say it, and he couldn’t convince himself to come anymore.

Thus it felt right. Naming the needy baby boy in your arms, Jon.

[syndrossi]

Will the dynamics between Jon and Rhaegar change much in the Restoration AU when Rhaegar analyzes everything? He has to look at many events from a new angle (The way Jon reacts to the Trident/Baratheons, how Jon asked what Rhaegar would name him, how fiercely he protected him, etc.). Will he become more protective of Jon? Or will he feel Jon needs tenderness and comfort from him, especially after realizing the atmosphere Jon grew up in? And how will that change his relationship to W!Jon? Will W!Jon realize that one of his little brothers/uncles is trying to adopt him?

His determination grows to protect Jon as more of an equal (vs Jon's attempts to make it a one-sided thing), but at this point, they've known one another as brothers for two-plus years, so they're pretty settled in that dynamic. I expect Rhaegar is busily cataloging every trauma and little hurt, recontextualizing them and sort of triaging--which can he help with, how can he atone for what he suffered?

If you think about it, the situation is not entirely unlike Daemon's agony over not being there when the twins were little-little, except that it was nineteen years for Jon, rather than eight.

I could see Rhaegar struggling with wanting to blame his original counterpart a great deal for Jon's pain. How could he be so foolish in dealing with Aerys? How did he not know that their father would respond so poorly to anything unexpected? Did he not foresee the Vale fostering relationship forming the basis of a powerful alliance? What exactly were his plans for his existing family?

(The shock of what Tywin Lannister's forces did would really shake him, too. He remembers Joanna and his mother being close, and Tywin generally being supportive of him. That the man would orchestrate the violent murder of his future wife and their young child would be a harsh realization.)

And it's hard, because he doesn't have all the pieces to know why his future self acted as he did. (And canon!Rhaegar, or at least Jon's Rhaegar, wasn't Resonant!Rhaegar. Their experiences differed, with Resonant!Rhaegar explicitly a PTWP, which makes canon!Rhaegar similarly difficult to fully understand.)

In terms of what to do, at least with his Jon, Daemon's fathering is a pretty high-intensity beam of parental love, so that's not the issue, aka Jon doesn't need another father. His issue with mother figures is gonna be in much sharper relief, as well as the self-worth/self-sacrificial tendencies and what they're rooted in (believing himself to be a bastard, of lesser value than his trueborn siblings).

So again, he probably just tries to step up as a peer for his Jon, and offer to tell him anything he'd like to know about his childhood, to give him whatever glimpse he wants of og!Rhaegar to give him the closure he needs.

For Winterfell!Jon, he'll do more caretaker-ing, which W!Jon will find by turns adorable and bewildering, since they are both still very much in little-siblings territory for him, even if they're technically his uncles. I could see Rhaegar trying to figure out what he most needs and giving it to him.

(And Jon's fear of things happening to him will be even more clear. Before, there was the obvious "he lost siblings before, especially Robb, who was the same age." But the fact that he "lost" Rhaegar in some form before, and that that is a huge source of his fear, at least gives him something else to address.)

[countrymusiclover]

6 - Here's to Aerys Targaryen

Part 7

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Hearing the chamber door open behind me where I turned my head around seeing a young girl who looked to be the right age of 15 or 16 with auburn hair tied up in a bun and gray Stark eyes staring directly at me with confusion written on her face. “Who are you? This is my chamber, not yours.” 

“I'm your new lady in waiting, my lady.  My name is Clarrise Arther.” I curtsied before her with a weak smile hoping she would find me alright. 

She clasped her hands together in front of her stomach. “How long have you been a lady in waiting?” 

“I actually just started today. But I am a quick learner.” I said with confidence in my voice. 

The Stark girl paused walking towards me. “Who hired you?’ 

“Tyrion Lannister, Lady Stark.” 

Sansa clicked her tongue sitting down in the chair by her vanity. “Alright. Could you brush my hair?” 

“Of course.” I replied doing as she asked and I found myself thinking about Amber when doing so.  I wish my father hadn't sent her off to another area of the castle to work rather than be able to hang out with me. 

Hours later it was daytime when I began to stroll the hallways on my own. I could make note of how much everything had changed inside my former home.  The family portraits and Targaryen flags had been torn down and burned leaving no existence of my family's rule.  Somehow with the swaying of my dress I could see the bits of fire ash on the stone floor on the now clean floor before me.  This wasn’t anything like my home growing up was. 

“You monster. Myrcella is my only daughter. Do you really think I'll let you sell her like a common whore?” I heard the Queen's voice coming from the shut chamber door that I had passed. 

I backed up pressing my ear against the wooden door to listen. “Myrcella's a princess. Some would say she was born for this.” 

“I will not let you ship her off to Dorne like I was shipped off to Robert Baratheon.” Cersei growled in his face. 

Tyrion responded back. “Dorne is the safest place for her.” 

“Are you mad the Marvel's loathe us.” 

He said back. “That’s why we need to seduce them.  We're going to need their support in the war your son started.” 

“She'll be a hostage.” 

He corrected her. “A guest.” 

“You think the piece of paper father gave you keeps you safe.  Ned Stark had a piece of paper too.” She bared her teeth. 

Tyrion replied softly. “It's done, Cersei.” 

“No.” 

His voice moved away from the door. “You cannot stop it.” 

“No!” Cersei must have knocked over things on the table because I heard glass shattering. 

“Just how safe do you think she will be if the city is sacked. Do you want to see raped, butchard like the Targaryen children. Make no mistake they'll mount her pretty little head on a spike right beside yours.” Tyrion warned her and I shook in fear when he mentioned the death of my siblings. 

Cersei shouted at him. “Get out!. Get out!” 

“Vaella.  I didn't expect to see you out here.  What's wrong?” Tyrion bumped into me when he rushed out of the room. 

I responded by rubbing the back of my neck not meaning to spy on the young lion and his sister. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spy.” 

“Don’t apologize for spying. That is one of the key things you must learn when you play the game.” 

Knitting my brows at him I asked. “The game. What do you mean?” 

“The game that is surviving this world of politics and fending for yourself.” Tyrion responded looking up at me. “Always know as many people as you can.  You have to be one step ahead of everyone you encounter.” 

My father had taught me that lesson the night he died. 

“You wanted to see me, father.” I slowly walked forward with Jaime standing near the bottom stairs, hand resting on his sword handle.  

My father sat on his throne scratching at his bleeding hand that he had cut on the metal chair when he say down. “You will be Wed off to Tywin Lannister.” 

“What! No, I won't.” I sharply snapped back at him. 

My father raised his voice. “You dare defy my orders, child.  I have already claimed your brother Rhaegar a traitor but I never expected you. Guards, seize her!” 

“Your Grace, surely you can spare her. She's your daughter.” Jaime softly spoke to him. 

My father sent him a glare. “Be quiet, Lannister!” 

“Father, please don't do this.” I winced when two guards grabbed my arms and held me tightly in their grips. 

Aerys Targaryen rose from his chair shouting down to me with such furry in his voice. “You have betrayed me, daughter. You are no longer loyal to me and for that I sentence you to die.” 

“My king, she's your daughter.” Jaime attempted a second time doing his best to not let too much emotion cross his facial expression. 

He didn't care not change his mind. “Shut up! Vaella Targaryen I sentence you to die. Burn her like the others.” 

“Your Grace, Robert Baratheon has reached the gates.” Another guard entered the throne room. 

My father sat back down on his throne waving his hand. “Let her go.  We have other traitors to attend to.” 

“How do you plan on doing that?” 

Horrifying words that would haunt me for the rest of my life came from his mouth. “Burn them all - burn them all!” 

“Vaella! You need to get out of here right now.”  Jaime helped me up from the ground and I gripped his forearm for balance. “There’s an escape hole under the tunnels. Go to the tunnel and my brother Tyrion will be there. Look for blonde hair and he's short.” 

“What about you?” I asked feeling my heart trying to beat out of my chest. 

He holds my shoulders in his hands. “I'll make sure he doesn’t send the guards after you. But I just want you to be safe.  You are one of the only people I care about.” Nodding my head I ran up the stairs and around the corner yet I halted in my tracks hearing my father utter those words over and over. 

“Burn them all!” 

Hiding behind the nearest pillar I peaked my head around watching Jaime slowly stalk behind my father who had risen from the throne shouting those three words over and over repeatedly. “Oh my god!” I shrieked, clutching my eyes closed after Jaime’s sword was stabbed into the back of his back and his body collapsed to the steps after he drew his sword out. 

A few other guards and Ned Stark entered the room quickly with Robert Baratheon all stunned at the sight before them. “Crown who you damn well like.” Jaime grumbled sitting on the throne with his half stained in blood sword.  Holding my hands over my mouth I couldn't form words knowing the realm would never be the same. 

[samieree]

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon Masterlist

[General Masterlist with list of boys I can write one-shots with here]

[my works are also avaiable on Ao3: Samiere and on wattpad: _Saelin Also on fanfiction net: Samiere (just "Born in Flames")]

MASTERLIST Silver Princess || House of the Dragon (fanfiction)(Daemon Targaryen | Aemond Targaryen | Gwayne Hightower)

King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn are expecting another child - possibly a new heir to the Iron Throne. After all, after the birth of two princesses, it must finally be time for a prince, right? On this occasion, a tournament is organized in King's Landing, which also attracts the king's brother - Daemon Targaryen to the capital. Unfortunately, the day of the tournament will set in motion a series of events that over the years will eventually lead to Dance of Dragons and something even worse, besides splitting House of the Dragon into three camps…

2. MASTERLIST Dawn of the North || Robb Stark (fanfiction)(Robb Stark x OC)

King Robert Baratheon wanted to get rid of every Targaryen. Apart from Daenerys and Viserys, he hadn’t dealt with the two remaining hidden in the shadows of the Crown. Amalthea has been living from day to day for three years, traveling with her companion throughout the lands of Westeros. Shortly after Joffrey Baratheon takes power, war breaks out, declared because of locking Ned Stark in the dungeons of the Red Keep and accusing him of treason. Amalthea finds herself in the middle of this conflict only because her heart beat faster for a handsome young man two years ago.

3. MASTERLIST Born in Flames || Game of Thrones (fanfiction)(OC x ?😏)

The young former Princess Visenya, and now Maegelle Targaryen, after the death of King Robert I Baratheon can finally come to King's Landing without fear of death at the hands of Robert, who has vowed to kill any Targaryen he can. Exactly, "any Targaryen he can"… He hasn't been able to touch Maegelle since Tywin Lannister took her to Casterly Rock and she was under his care for the next seventeen years, raised to be against her real family. Even her changed name is to make her realize who she should be. But will she listen to it? After all, she had spent her entire life with the murderers of her family…

[the-desilittle-bird]

Author's Note- I have been planning a Tywin Lannister Fic. If anyone has some ideas, you are free to share. For the meantime, enjoy this one and do tell me if you want a second part. Also requests can be made.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

The Crimson Lady

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary- The Greens and the Blacks gather to settle the war peacefully. And the Era of the One-Eyed King and Crimson Queen begins...

Tag List- @eliseline , @little-moonbeam-666 , @blackhoodlea, @omgsuperstarg, @shopping, @lizlovecraft, @dayane, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26 , @all-things-fandomstuck, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @morganastrucker, @shrexy , @helloitsshitzulover, @daringboba, @minaxcarter, @b-tchymoon, @stargaryenx, @hukio, @saraelizabeth26, @targaryenmoony, @moon-light1415, @eudximoniakr

King Viserys 'The Peaceful' gone. King Aegon 'The Usurper' gone. Queen Rhaenyra 'The Black Queen' gone. All in the duration of no more than 2 years.

Prince Daemon 'The King Consort' killed. Prince Jacaerys 'The Heir of the Black' killed. Prince Lucerys killed. Prince Daeron Targaryen killed. Prince Jaehaerys killed. Countless casualties on both sides due to the war which was known to the common people as 'The Dance of the Dragon'.

The greens had seemingly won the war until their king was poisoned by his own kin, only a few moons into the rule again. Meanwhile, the Starks and the Velaryons convinced Rhaenyra's only living heir to assert her claim on the Iron Throne.

The council of states of the realm was divided. The whole realm was. The Blacks hailed princess (Y/N) Velaryon, naming her the rightful heir to the throne. The Greens wished to name Prince Aemond the King of The Realm.

Both the sides of the war had suffered the consequences of war. And the namely leaders of them had seen the most of the horrors; and both of them could mutually agree on only one thing. That the war must stop, on any basis.

(Y/N) sat blankly at the head of the table in Dragonstone, staring into a distance, distant from the ongoing argument as Corlys Velaryon and Cregan Stark fought on their next step in war.

She could feel the tiredness in her body, seeping through her brain and clouding it. She had lost her mother a mere moons ago, and her stepfather- or as the rumors suggest, father- some moons before her mother.

She was alone in this world, except for her youngest brother Aegon, who was too young to understand these things.

"Can I expect a few moments of silence?" She asked, growing agitated from all the noises around her. She could only wish for some peace in this chaotic world.

The council chamber fell into silence as both the lords watched their princess sigh in exhaustion, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Please take your seats," she commanded softly, gesturing with her hands.

The lords nodded in understanding, sitting down as they shared a worried look. They had seen (Y/N) grow up from a bright, cheerful girl to a dull and commanding lady.

"What do you wish for, my queen?" Cregan asked, as stiffly as he could as he observed the younger lady in the war. (Y/N) glanced at him, her gaze softening as she looked down at her hands.

"I wish for this to end. With me on the throne or without, a give no care," she stated, letting go of the truth she knew for a while. "But that throne belongs to you," said her grandfather.

Before (Y/N) could react, the door to the council chambers opened and a servant walked in, trembling harshly as he feared the rage of the war lords.

"What is it?" (Y/N) asked softly, making the boy look up at her. She could calculate that the boy was no older than her, possibly the same age, but she could see the differences between him and herself. While he was fearful of these lords, she commanded them, much to her inner dismay.

"A... a messenger from the... the Greens have came upon the doors," he said.

The throne room was in the state of alert. The Queen's Guard stood on the steps to the throne, each hand on the pommel of their swords, ready in case of any danger.

Cregan stood two steps down the throne, hand folded behind his back with his eyes glaring at the door, waiting patiently for the messenger to stride in.

(Y/N) sat on the throne, fiddling with her fingers nervously. Her eyes glancing to the door every second in caution.

The door opened at last, and a tall, hooded figure walked in, head hung low to hide his face. Though the man never looked up, (Y/N) was sure he could feel their curious eyes on him.

"You stand in the presence of Queen (Y/N) of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon, First of her Name. Rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Rightful Lady of the Seven Kingdoms. Rightful Protector of the Realm. The Crimson Lady and The Eagle of Dragonstone."

"What is it that the Greens want?" Cregan asked, picking his words carefully. The man extended his hand, a scroll in his grip. Cregan and (Y/N) met each other's eye before (Y/N) nodded, making one of the knights present in the room, snatch the scroll from his hand, handing it to Cregan.

Cregan opened the scroll with care, an analytical eye reading it. He walked up to the queen who sat in her place with fear bubbling in her stomach.

"What now?" She whispered, looking at the scroll with fear. "They wish to negotiate for the throne, in peace," Cregan whispered back, his eyes casted down in respect. He heard (Y/N) gasp silently, eyes meeting her Valyrian ones.

"Should we accept?" She asked, looking around to shake off the nervousness. "It is your decision, (Y/N). Not mine or Lord Velaryon's," he stated, nodding back and walking down to his place.

"The Greens wish to negotiate with the Rightful Queen in peace," Cregan announced, making Corlys scowl. "This is just another one of their schemes to butcher us like sheep," the Lord of Driftmark said.

"I can assure it isn't, Lord Corlys," the voice of the messenger startled everyone, making the knights of the Queen's Guard draw their swords and point to the man.

The man looked up, letting his hood fall back to reveal the face of the second son of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. A smirk appearing on his visage as he saw the look of fear on everyone's face.

"Prince Aemond," (Y/N) greeted with a nod, standing up from her seat. With swift and soft steps, she strided to him, ignoring the fearful looks of the lords.

"You are aware we could imprison you here," (Y/N) said matter-of-factly, making her uncle hum as he looked at her with interest. "And give my family the message that you wish to continue this war, resulting in more deaths," Aemond replied.

(Y/N) observed her uncle, once who used to be her favorite companion. He had matured during the war. His hair shorter than before, braided to keep the hair away from his face. His face had become more sharper with time, if it was possible. He had grown taller during the period of this war.

Aemond had seen (Y/N) the last time before his father's death and now, with her in front of him, he couldn't help but notice the changes. She had grown an inch or two taller, still rather short compared to him. Her face more defined than the last time he saw her. Her hair shorter due to the war and pulled back in a bun.

Eyes traveling down, he noticed the prominent curves she have developed in last two years. Her usual bright gowns had now changed into a black and deep red gown, fit for a queen.

"We will come, uncle," (Y/N) announced after a while of thinking. "But if this is some scheme of yours and your snake mother's, then know, that neither your family nor my council can stop me from marching onto King's Landing."

Aemond could see the threat clearly, and he nodded sincerely. "Thank you for your kindness, princess," Aemond bowed, his eyes sincere. (Y/N) only nodded, her eyes followed Aemond's movements as he turned around and walked out of the throne room, not even glancing back.

"My Queen, are you sure?" Corlys asked, as everyone visibly relaxed after the Prince was gone. "He killed your father," Cregan added. "I am sure, Lord Corlys. Thank you for your concern," (Y/N) said, leaving the throne room as well.

Gods above seemed to play a game with the young Targaryen as she and her small troop of advisors arrived at the keep with a furious rainstorm outside.

(Y/N) was greeted at the entrance by Otto Hightower, who despite his scowl was able to give the princess a hard and distasteful smile.

He had led the group to the small council chamber, where (Y/N) could recognize the Green's Council Members.

Prince Aemond and the Dowager Queen Alicent and the representatives of Houses Baratheon, Lannister and Strong sat on one side of the table with an empty seat reserved for Otto by his daughter's side.

"Please, have a seat," Alicent said stiffly, as she glared at (Y/N). The young She-Dragon nodded, stepping forward to sit in front of Aemond as her loyal advisors followed and soon, the other side of the table was filled with the Blacks.

"We all are aware of the reason for which we gather here," Otto started, glaring quite openly at Rhaenyra's daughter. Alicent glanced at her son, whose gaze was focused on (Y/N).

"So, on behalf of my king, I would like to propose that you and your army kneels to the rightful heir of the realm, Prince Aemond. You all will experience the King's kindness and will not be charged for treason or such."

Cregan scoffed loudly, making Otto glare daggers at the young Lord of Winterfell. (Y/N) sighed tiredly, looking at Cregan as if to ask silently 'what are you doing'.

"My Queen, may I?" Cregan asked formally, making (Y/N) nod. Cregan nodded in gratitude, standing up to meet the eyes of the Greens.

"We all are aware of the person who is the rightful heir, and it is our Princess (Y/N). As a benevolent Queen, she ask you all to kneel before her in peace, and stop the war right here. There is no need for anymore bloodshed to take place, no need for more innocent people to die and face the consequences of our action."

And thus, the verbal fight began between the Greens and the Blacks. Corlys and Cregan defended their queen while the Lannisters and Otto listed Alicent and Aemond's kind actions.

"Can we not discuss this in peace?" (Y/N) asked after a while, fed up of the elders fighting like children for the throne. She looked at her army's commanders scoldingly, glancing at their seats before looking at them.

It seemed Cregan and Corlys were smart enough to get the silent gesture, settling in their seats as they grumbled to themselves. Childish adults, (Y/N) thought to herself while sighing, sinking into her seat as well.

"Grand Maester Orwyle, you have heard the arguments yourself. What do you suggest?" Aemond asked, leaning towards the table, raising a perfect eyebrow at the man.

"My prince, my princess, lords and ladies," Orwyle stood up, nodding at each other as he greeted everyone. "I see potential in both Prince Aemond and Princess (Y/N), and thus, I suggest an alternative. I suggest that the Prince marries his niece and the crown's authority shall be shared between them."

"Princess (Y/N) is already betrothed, maester," Cregan said smugly, his eyes traveling to catch Aemond's. "Betrothals are important, my Queen," Corlys started, looking at (Y/N). "Especially when we are going through a war. Alliances are important," he continued.

"Betrothals and holding alliances are important, but so is putting the war to an end," (Y/N) murmured. "Grand Maester Orwyle, we thank you for the suggestion," (Y/N) said with a smile, making the older man smile widely and sit.

"I agree with maester's idea," Aemond said, looking intensely at (Y/N), who seemed to hesitate a bit. He watched as she turned to look at Cregan and Corlys, her eyes asking for a silent affirmation.

"The suggestion is a valid one, Princess (Y/N). We are aware of your wishes to stop the war and this is the best way to do it," Alicent spoke for the first time. The princess in question could only nod, a sigh releasing from her throat.

Her eyes looked up to find Cregan's. 'What should I do?' She mouthed, noticing Cregan lean in. "Remember all he has done to you. Slayed your brother and fa... step-father," Cregan whispered, his eyes fixed at Aemond.

(Y/N) sighed again and nodded, her eyes finding Aemond's. All the memories she had of her uncle resurfaced one by one, a longing feeling settling in.

"I... I agree with the idea."

The fate was sealed, and the destiny was set. The Greens' faces broke into small smiles as they looked at each other, while the Blacks could only sulk in silence.

"Then it be known, the prince and the princess shall be married within a fortnight and be crowned King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Alicent said, standing up. "You are welcome to stay here, in the keep for the duration, Lady (Y/N)."

And so did the journey began of the One-Eyed King and the Crimson Queen.

[sikudastoner]

017. in the trenches of snow forts, amidst a war of a snow fight! who will win? For the Lannister kids <3

I really thought to myself that I would do drabbles but I had too much fun with this one.

For reference, this is years before the war. Darren is 15, Lymond is 14, Eltyn is 10 and Maeby is 9. Also, I thought it was canon that Tyrion is a December Sagittarius but my brain mistook popular opinion for fact. That being said, Tyrion is a December Sagittarius in the sikudastoner universe, argue with the wall.

Divider by strangergraphics

Lymond couldn’t stand the air of the Rock. Every year, without fail, his lord father would dampen the mood on this particular day. It not only dated the birth of his least favorite son, the Imp, but the death of his preferred lady wife. Nobody dared uttered her name, who was worthy of mentioning the better Lady of Casterly Rock? No one dared to smile, laugh, chew too loudly or wish the poor man a blessed name day. All that would be heard were tiptoes and Tywin stalking about the halls, grumbling about the imperfections he noted amongst the halls and chambers.

This would not do.

“Darren.” Lymond spoke as they both stared out a window, taking in the sight of snowflakes landing on the frozen waters of Sunset Sea.

“Yes, Lymond?”

Lymond gave him a look, a look only his older brother would understand in an instant.

Darren knew immediately what his look suggested. “No.”

“There is no harm in it.” Lymond jumped to his defense.

“No, I don’t see the harm in it other than rubbing our joy in father’s face.”

“I cannot stand it here.” Lymond groaned, stepping away from the frostbitten window. “Why must we subject ourselves to misery? What would Lann the Clever think of this? His descendents cooped up and trembling in fear because of father’s temper?”

“Do not bring Lann the Clever into this.” Darren grumbled, his back turned against his brother’s fit.

“What are you two bickering about?” The two boys jumped at the sound of the tiny voice that made its presence known, turning to the door to see their dear sister staring up at them in curiosity.

“A snowball fight.” Lymond replied before Darren could claim it’s ‘nothing.’

“Oh yes!” Maeby clapped her hands together, her eyes alive with excitement.

“No, it must be postponed. Two days, at the very least.” The eldest brother asserted.

“Come on-” Lymond slowly stepped over to Maeby’s side, standing his ground and creating an unspoken alliance. “How could you dare say no to the face of an angel?” He nudged his sister’s side, hinting for her to flash an angelic look. Never failing to let him down, the youngest Lannister’s big brown eyes doed into adorableness, her lips pouting with practiced ease.

Darren was weak to his sister’s adorable manipulation. He shut his eyes briefly as a groan rumbled through him, feeling every bit of his resolve crumbling of the thought of his brother and sister sitting in their chambers, bored and depressed.

“Fine.” He paused, a sudden question popping in his mind as he remembered Maeby’s unannounced entrance. “How did you sneak into my chambers, young lady?”

“Door was unlocked.” Maeby said with a shrug.

“That’s on me, I forgot to lock the door.” Darren admitted, his annoyance redirected at himself.

All the perils of snowball fight were thoughtfully planned out. Their mother warned them to not laugh too loudly, to make sure Eltyn was bundled up in furs because his lankiness made him twice likely to catch a cold, have Tywin occupied with an urgent matter in the west quarters of the keep as they enjoyed their activities in the east courtyard, and buy the discretion of a few impressionable guards.

Darren bent his knees to reach for a fistfull of snow to mold into a ball. “Shall we?” He pressed urgency, concerned of what would become of them if father’s distraction didn’t hold his attention for very long.

“I propose we pair up, teams of two.” That warranted an eye roll from him, Lymond knew how to get under his skin.

“I want to be on Lymond’s team!” Maeby was already at his side, her tiny hands laying claim on her brother.

Lymond smiled down at his eager little sister, admiring her enthusiasm. “My thoughts exactly.”

“You can have her.” Darren gave a dismissive wave, though he preferred if Lymond was his partner than Eltyn, who was the least ecstatic about snowball fights. The boy detested the cold, or any physical activity, and the family was well aware of his indifference. “What’s the prize for the winning team, since you’re calling the shots?”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about having fun.”

Darren scoffed. “Coming from you? That’s rich. You’re the most competitive lad I know.”

Lymond hummed, tossing a ball of snow back and forth between his gloved hands. “Losing team calls Joanna Lannister a glorified wench in the presence of our lord father, the winning team basks in his pride and favor for a few hours.”

His insensitive jest made three jaws drop, even some guards. “Absolutely not.”

“No fun, this lot.” He muttered to himself. “Fine, losing team does a song and dance for the name day boy, winning team saves themselves from humiliation. Sounds good?” They all nodded their heads in unison, any bet was better than betting on dishonoring the memory of Tywin Lannister’s first wife. “Very well, let’s take a moment to prepare.”

Eltyn was pulled to the side by Darren, the two of them conspiring against their opposing team. Before Lymond could get a single word out, he looked down at his sister hastily balling up snow and stacking them on top of each other. “What are you doing, little lion?”

“Prepping our armaments, so we can spend our time hitting instead of making.” Maeby explained her method.

Her quick mindedness never failed to impress him, but he wasn’t a strategist. “Those balls won’t last, it will merge into a mountain of snow. Besides, there’s no strategy in snowball fights. It’s all about aim and speed.”

“Lymond is quick, but you’re quicker. He has long legs, but yours is longer than his was when he was your age. No doubt he’ll be winging his approach.” Darren shared his strategy with his partner. Eltyn, for someone who was reluctant to leave his chambers, was surprisingly mentally noting everything he told him. “Maeby gets aggressive with her throws, you surrender easily, avoid her. You let me deal with the little bugger.”

“What if she tails me?” Eltyn asked.

“Use your chicken legs and run away from her.” Darren answered irritatedly, as though the answer were clear as day.

“My method is to just run?”

“Your method is to run and hide from Maeby’s prowess and sneak attack on Lymond when he gets cocky.”

Eltyn considered the approach. His fingers fidgeted by instinct, the woven gloves covering up his nailbeds he would pick at. “Do you think it will work?”

“It will have to, you hate singing and dancing.” Darren paused, sensing the tension in his brother’s uncertainty of the wager. The possibility of losing a simple game he was determined to win for the first time. Worst of all, the feeling of snow hitting any of his bare skin. His hand hovered over his brother’s shoulder, immediately making the little boy flinch from the threat of contact. He withdrew his hand, falling to his side. “Look, you need to have confidence in yourself and have fun. That is how we will win, okay?”

Confidence. Fun. These words were nonexistent in Eltyn’s vocabulary. His brother’s pep talk wasn’t the most inspiring, but the punishment of singing and dancing loomed over him. After a moment of reflection, he nodded in agreement. Seeing a smile grace his older brother’s face gave him more encouragement than a simple, “have fun, be confident” ever could.

“Are you two ready?” Lymond called from the other side of the courtyard.

Eltyn squinted his eyes to see Maeby creating a pile of snowballs, he cursed himself for not thinking of her preparation method himself.

“Ready to kick your arses.” Darren taunted them as he prepped his snowball.

“You kiss our mother with that mouth?” Lymond returned his humor.

“You would kiss mother on the mouth, you heathen.”

“Pardon my ignorance, I meant to ask if you kiss our father’s arse with that mouth?”

Lymond’s jest shocked Darren into an o-shaped mouth as Maeby snickered and Eltyn held in a snort.

“That does it!” A snowball was sent flying towards Lymond’s direction as precise and fast as a bow releasing from a crossbow.

The first blow triggered his competitive nature and in a swift motion, he picked a ball from Maeby’s pile and retaliated the attack. The children sprung to action and made their first attacks, balls flying from each direction of the courtyard. The advice given earlier of keeping quiet was not heeded; laughter, taunts and screams filled the air.

Eltyn sprinted towards Lymond, picking up a handful of snow in his tracks and chasing him down. Lymond made a run for it, his freezing bones enduring his force of speed. He launched a snowball at him as he tailed him, but his footwork saved him from a hit in the face. One thing Eltyn hadn’t anticipated was the skill of his brother’s darting, or being tag teamed.

Maeby directed her throws at Eltyn, defending Lymond from his pursuit. She aimed at his legs, believing they were skinny enough to send him flying onto the ground. Two hits to the legs and Eltyn was still on his feet, running away from her attacks. She was soon tackled by Darren, a triple snowball attack to her back. She looked over her shoulder to see the boy grinning at her with the signature Lannister arrogance.

“You think you’re a gift of the seven, don’t you?” She mocked him as she sent a snowball flying to his face.

The cold snow hit his face, not cooling his quick temper. “You spoiled brat!” He aimed a ball at her face, she ducked it and it landed on Eltyn’s back.

“Come on!” Eltyn groaned and threw his hands up in the air as he saw Darren the culprit of his hit.

“Apologies!” Darren called out, not letting himself become distracted with explaining what happened. He continued to hunt down the little lion, ensuring she would not strike Eltyn or overpower him. She chased after her, her squeaks and giggles reminding himself of his own advice.

Have fun.

He let the little girl throw a few amateur hits, seeing her face beam with victory gave him some satisfaction. This was the most time he’d ever spent with her, he was willing to cherish the moment. Still, he would not let her win. He noted how lazy her throws had gotten and seized the opportunity to conquer the little beast. He hooked her small frame with one arm, his hand clenched over her head with the threat of his final strike.

“Surrender.” He told her, knowing she had no way out.

Her groan was a surrender in itself. He could’ve released his sister, but instead he dropped the snowball on her head, the snow collapsing through her curly hair.

Eltyn, by some miracle, had Lymond cornered and accepting defeat from his ceaseless hits. How this boy who spent more time flipping pages of a book could create so many snowballs in a matter of seconds was intangible. He took joy from attacking his brother as he did in his studies, not that it was as harsh as a blow to the head.

“Alright, alright! You win!” Lymond gave in with a chuckle, his hands surrendering above his head.

Eltyn paused his throwing, his eyes widening slightly. “I win?”

“Yes-” Darren made his way over to Eltyn and wrapped his arm around him. He didn’t care how he loathed being touched, he was proud of his brother. “We won!”

For the first time, and possibly the last, Eltyn gave Darren a high five.

“Here come my lads, my comely boys and split your sacks ashore. For you all will be sailing, sailing for many days, before you get some more. So grease the…” Lymond and Maeby mumbled nonsense from the forgotten verse. “… and send a tap, betwixt the wind and wat-er. Hoist me lads and hoist again, salute the captain’s daughter!”

Tyrion’s chamber erupted in applause from the little performance the losing team gave. Tyrion was far too drunk to care that it was a wager that gave him a name day show, and perhaps a little grateful he got anything decent. Even Darren’s side eye didn’t spoil the special moment for him.

“Well sung!” Tyrion cheered as Lymond and Maeby took a bow.

“Thank you, thank you.” Lymond soaked in the attention from his fellow siblings, flipping his golden hair over his shoulders. “Blessed name day to you, my brother.”

Tyrion lifted his goblet, chuckling at his flamboyance. “No, thank you, I couldn’t ask for a finer gift.” He pointed over to the little Lannister. “This one has a talent for song.”

“I also have a talent for craft!” Maeby turned around and gathered something from a small satchel she brought along with her. She carefully took out three paper crowns with ink inscriptions on them.

“What’s this?” Eltyn asked, his brows furrowing as she bestowed the first crown to Tyrion’s head.

“It’s your prize, for winning the snowball fight.” Maeby explained, walking over to Eltyn and placing another crown atop of his black hair. “You told me it was your first time winning something, and you had nothing to show for it. Now you have a crown to show for it.”

A warm smile swept across Eltyn’s face at his little sister’s thoughtfulness, still he couldn’t help but wonder. “That’s sweet, but where did you get the paper from?”

“Maester Creylen wouldn’t let me borrow the books from the library, so I took some parchment paper from father’s study.”

“Father’s study?!” Darren sprinted up from his seat, the paper crown falling from his head as he stormed out the door in haste. The door slammed shut behind him and both Lymond and Tyrion cackled at his frantic response.

Eltyn slowly rose from his seat, his hands reaching up to keep the paper crown on his head. “Time to hide the evidence.”

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #37: Robert's Rebellion, but everyone loses

I was desperately combing through AO3 looking for good fic I hadn't read yet when it occurred to me: I have never seen a Game of Thrones fic where The Mad King succeeds in blowing up King's Landing at the end of the rebellion.

So I thought: what if Jon Snow was King of the Seven Kingdoms from birth?

Aka: The Aerion, King of the Ashes Fic

Just imagine it:

Jaime is just a bit slower during the Sack of King's Landing or choses to go after King Aerys first. Either way, Rossart succeeds in setting off at least one wildfire cache before Jaime can stop him.

King's Landing burns. Everything and everyone inside the walls of the city is caught in the conflagration - as is everyone and everything in the highly flammable shanty town built outside of them. Amongst them: Ned Stark and nearly all the Northern lords of note; Tywin Lannister and nearly all the Westerlands lords of Note; nearly all of the Stormlander lords not caught up in the Siege of Storm's End; a fair number of Riverlander and Vale lords; and everyone who sought refuge in the Red Keep or the Sept of Baelor, was trying to flee the city through one of the gates, &c.

Because wildfire cannot be put out with water and the situation in the city was already dire, 75% of the population dies in The Great Fire. Of the remainder, poor healthcare, poor sanitary conditions, and the massive loss of life take another 90%. The rest are scarred and disfigured for life, most without any family or savings to fall back on.

Robert, having been too injured to partake in the Sack, rages. What remains of his army falls apart around him as most lords rush back to their castles to secure their seats in the midst of chaos, having lost all faith in Robert after he is overheard saying, "Any loss is acceptable if it rids us of the dragons." He uses the few soldiers he has left to lift the Siege of Storm's End - which was mostly perfunctory at this point, as the Tyrells, lacking any obvious king to back, had rushed back to their own seat after hearing of The Great Fire.

Queen Rhaella, hearing the news, goes into labor early. She and her child die. The remaining royalists, fearing reprisals, whisk young Viserys away to Essos.

Tyrion Lannister, a 10-year-old child, is now Lord of Casterly Rock. Robb Stark, an infant, is now Lord of Winterfell. Only Dorne and the Reach have any fighting real fighting strength left. It honesty looks like the Westeros will break into seven separate kingdoms once more.

Into this, Lyanna Stark gives birth to a posthumous son rather than the daughter her husband had expected. She names the boy Aerion Targaryen and King of the Seven Kingdoms in the same breath.

Lyanna lives. She has lost a father, two brothers, a husband, a sister-wife, and two stepchildren to the Rebellion. She has never desired a crown or a seat of power for herself - Lyanna has only ever wanted to live a good, happy life and raise good, happy children - but she looks upon all the destruction and thinks: I could do better. I must do better, so nothing like this ever happens again.

And so Lyanna, with nothing more than three Kingsguard and the Stark stubbornness, sets out to reconquer Westeros in her infant son's name.

It's slow going at first. They head to Starfall, where Arthur Dayne's brother shelters them as they begin making their first tentative moves - primarily reaching out to Gerold Hightower's nephew, whose house had come through the Rebellion and The Great Fire in a stronger position than most.

Lord Leyton is easily swayed as the weakening of the North and the Westerlands has emboldened the Ironborn, leading to unchecked raiding from the Shadow Tower to the Sun House, and his own daughter Alerie has just given birth to a daughter of age with the young king.

Aerion Targaryen and Margery Tyrell are bethrothed as infants. The Reach, eager as ever to throw their weight behind a king that puts their blood on the throne, sets out to make Lyanna's vision a reality...

Exactly how this happens is dealers choice, but should involve 1) Lyanna shaming Dorne into aiding her cause after an impassioned speech where she states that she loved Elia just as much as Rhaegar, thought of her children as her own, and wanted nothing more than to be their consort for the rest of her days, but foolish men and their wars had stolen that from all of them; 2) peace talks with the Stormlands which quickly dissolve after Lyanna is no longer able to bite her tongue in the face of Robert's oafishness and tears through his assumptions that she was raped, stolen, or ever desired to so much as set eyes on a Baratheon again; 3) peace talks with the North that heavily mimics the submission of Torrhen Stark, with Lady Regent Caitlyn urging continued fighting against the whore and bastard that cost the North so much and ten-year-old Robb Stark refusing to fight against his aunt and cousin.

Bonuses include: 1) Lyanna hammering it over the heads of the lords of Westeros that if they just treated their daughters like human beings none of them would be in this position right now, with Aerion internalizing so much of it that his first act once he's past his regency is to make royal inheritance follow absolute primogeniture; 2) 10-year-old Viserys initially very sour that some Blackfyre pretender is claiming his throne, but completely converting to Aerion's cause within one hour of meeting Lyanna and being subjected to her mother hen instinct; and 3) King's Landing being rebuilt along much more sensible and sanitary lines. The inhabitants quickly rename it Ashtown. Aerion is called Aerion Ashborn and, though born King of the Ashes, comes to embody the phoenix metaphor to the extent that his rule is known as a golden age for House Targaryen.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to borrow, just link back if you ever do anything with it.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[jedimaesteryoda]

Ser Tywin was but twenty, the youngest man ever to serve as Hand, but the manner in which he had dealt with the rising of the Reynes and Tarbecks had made him well respected, even feared, throughout the Seven Kingdoms. 

-WOIAF, The Westerlands

Tywin built his reputation on the destruction of Houses Reyne and Tarbeck. The Reynes were the most powerful bannermen to the Lannisters, and by Ellyn’s times, the Reyne-Tarbeck alliance sought to supplant their overlords. Tywin crushed them on behalf of House Lannister as well as for personal reasons. Tywin would then go on to enact similar ambitions in trying to marry is daughter into his liege’s house, and then overthrow them when that fell through, making his daughter a queen, doing successfully what the Reynes tried and failed to do. 

Tywald Lannister had long been betrothed to the Red Lion's spirited young sister, Lady Ellyn. This strong-willed and hot-tempered maiden, who had for years anticipated becoming the Lady of Casterly Rock, was unwilling to forsake that dream.

. . .

Ellyn Reyne was accused of bedding Tytos Lannister, urging him to set aside his wife and marry her instead.

. . .

Old, rich, and powerful, the Reynes had prospered greatly from Lord Tytos's misrule. Roger Reyne, the Red Lion, was widely feared for his skill at arms; many considered him the deadliest sword in the westerlands. His brother, Ser Reynard, was as charming and cunning as Ser Roger was swift and strong.

-WOIAF, The Westerlands

Tywin for all his hatred of House Reyne, managed to find himself siring another generation of Reynes with his own children: the eldest son who is a prodigious warrior with a hot temper, the second son who isn’t noted for his martial prowess, but his cunning as a political operator, and the “strong-willed and hot-tempered,” ambitious daughter leading the trio who uses seduction to achieve her political ambitions and seeks to become the head of state.

Robert Baratheon, like Tytos Lannister, proved to be a poor ruler who had gone to seed, avoiding dealing with problems and affairs of state with the Lannisters taking advantage of his negligence and expanding their power and influence at court.

Ellyn of House Reyne became the Lady of Casterly Rock in all but name. As her good-father retreated to his books and his bedchamber, Lady Ellyn held a splendid court, staging a series of magnificent tourneys and balls and filling the Rock with artists, mummers, musicians...and Reynes. Her brothers Roger and Reynard were ever at her side, and offices, honors, and lands were showered upon them, and upon her uncles, cousins, and nephews and nieces as well.

-WOIAF, The Westerlands

Cersei upon becoming Queen Regent and Tywin became Hand again, proceeded to shower their family with offices, honors and lands. Cersei promoted Jaime to Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, kicking Barristan out. Tywin gave Riverrun to his good-brother Emmon Frey, Darry to his nephew Lancel and intended to give Winterfell to his son Tyrion. 

Within the fortnight, Ellyn Reyne was wed to Walderan Tarbeck, Lord of Tarbeck Hall, the florid fifty-five-year-old widowed lord of an ancient, honorable, but impoverished house.

Lord Walderan Tarbeck, Ellyn’s husband, is described as on old man with the same house colors (blue and silver) as House Frey who allies with the rebellious house with a lion sigil. The Freys are a foil to Tarbecks where in place of “ancient, honorable but impoverished” are relatively new, treacherous, and one of the richest and most powerful houses in the riverlands. Walder Frey chose to ally with the Lannisters to rebel against his overlords King Robb Stark and Lord Edmure Tully, and is now effectively the de facto Lord Paramount of the Trident and when Littlefinger dies, Cersei may make it de jure. 

However, the Reynes for all their faults were still united in their cause while Tywin’s authoritarian and abusive style of ruling over his family resulted in factionalism and ultimately, an intrahouse civil war. Cersei being abusive in her relationships, isolates both her most able brother, Tyrion, resulting him going over to their house’s former liege lords, the Targaryens, and Jaime, with him wanting to remove her. That is without saying that she is driving her house into the ground, wrecking Lannister’s support. Walder violated guest right, making his house universally hated, especially among his neighbors and in a bad spot when things inevitably go south for the Lannisters. His style not being that different from Tywin’s, combined with his numerous brood, created a situation where factionalism and an intrahouse civil war are inevitable. 

The Reyne-Tarbeck coalition was undone by the son of their overlord, Tywin, as he crushed both houses. The daughter of their late Targaryen monarch, Daenerys, comes to put an end to House Lannister’s schemes, and Lady Stoneheart, the daughter of Walder’s late overlord Hoster Tully, enacts vengeance on his house. Assisting the former is as Genna put it “Tywin’s son” in every sense, Tyrion who like his father before is itching for payback for a lifetime of slights and abuse against him. 

The ambitions of the Reynes and Tarbecks resulted in their destruction and their lines extinguished. House Lannister and Frey at first seem to have succeeded where the Reynes and Tarbecks seemed to fail, but their summer shall be short-lived as winter has come. Their sins of greed, pride and wrath shall be answered with their works going up in flames.  

[sigilsongs-a]

"the old lion said that vargo must follow the westeros laws to get gold, but may keep his qohorik property. i am property... like horse, or dog." vargo has plenty of animals in his company; from warhorses to hunting dogs... and most beaten into submission or savagery — his preferred state of being for those in the bloody mummers ranks. sometimes the animals were treated better, sometimes she was... and as vargo had often whispered cruelly to her, crushing her windpipe under his grip with a sickening grin; i'll keep your face pretty. it cost me a great deal. the armored man's words confuse her, for a moment, and the processing of it is clear on her features... it's beyond her scope of common tongue acquisition, and also a concept that doesn't make full sense. she's not seen how wives of any sort are treated here; not really. rhaenys had been part of a war camp.

on her left ankle, wrapped in layers of fabric against the harsh edges that tear at her skin, is the shackle she hadn't been able to pry off. it's rusted now. vargo may have removed the collar at the staunch order of the old lion tywin lannister, but quickly exchanged it for ankle irons — she'd slipped the pin on the right one to escape... however long ago that had been. rhaenys chews at the corner of her lip, chapped and dry, lost in thought ... until the man — jaime — says vargo's name again. her eyes focus, intently, trying to ensure she understands what he's saying; it could mean the difference between her attempting to flee, or lingering. her head cocks to the side ever so, and then stares at the false hand he displays — promptly her grey eyes widen in awe; that amount of gold could see her in safety and security for the rest of her days. after a moment of pause, she looks back up at the young lion's face. "he says: 'a man only needs one'," rhaenys quotes her slaver-husband, prompted by legions of memories of witnessing, and of being forced to bear witness to, dismembering and torture. "sometimes he takes leg, arm, or hand, sometimes ear or eye. i see it many times, he makes me watch, and laughs like a cursed man. it makes me... sad to see," and she's sad for jaime too... for all the people vargo has maimed or killed because she could never bring herself to take a blade to him in his sleep. "you should not kill him like that. you should take from him," rhaenys says, in words she believes she could speak in any language, coldly but filled with a terrible hatred; "vargo says a man only needs one limb; he is a beast. he needs none." vargo left limbless, helpless, and alone in the world; where he can taste the anticipation of death and fear... that image is better than his head rolling.

the thunder rumbles distantly, it causes another visible flinch. the small hollow she's been sleeping in will not keep her dry, there's not enough protection... and his hand remains outstretched. though she's a wild, wounded thing; filled with paranoia and suspicion, rhaenys can't deny that this is the kindest interaction she has had in countless weeks, or months?. she likely looks like a skittish deer, but eventually she nods at his words — understanding most — and takes his hand to balance herself as she steps from the dampened ground and out of the small rode-side ravine. his skin is warm, hers is cold... and she hasn't touched another human in far too long. it almost feels foreign.

ㅤㅤㅤTHERE ARE NO SLAVES IN WESTEROS. No matter what Vargo Hoat required in return for his services, his father should have never allowed these perverse customs to have continued under his discretion. Lord Tywin most likely thought such matters were simply none of his business; that the stain would wash away the moment he sent his dog back to Essos. Why should he care as long as Hoat did what he was paid to do? But his tolerances of that rotten man and his ways went much too far. The leash was too loose, the beast lashed out, and Jaime lost a hand for it. Almost lost his life, too, to protect the Maid of Tarth from the Qohorik's damnable bear. If this is what Vargo was willing to do to the son of the man who paid him, how much worse was he to the women he thought he owned? What a monster he must truly be, if this is how this woman reacts to the mere mention of his name. ❝ We have no slaves here. The moment you stepped upon this soil, you should have been freed. ❞ But his father would have rather obliged his Bloody Mummers than honor the laws of the land. Releasing her would have been the right thing to do, but of course, Tywin Lannister would do whatever was best for Tywin Lannister, not a slave woman from Qohor. It's not like Jaime did anything about it, either. He'd paid little mind to Hoat outside of memorizing the faces of his company. It's not his fault that this woman suffered, yet there is an odd feeling of responsibility for all that has occurred under his father's watch. The moment she was brought under the crimson banners of House Lannister, she should have been under their protection.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ This lion will do no such thing. I've developed a distaste for men who act a certain way towards their . . . wives. ❞ Jaime hesitates to use the word. To call her Vargo's wife implies something mutual; something nonexistent. He cannot help but think of Rhaella Targaryen as he looks upon her, and of all the cruelties the Mad King inflicted upon his queen. Things that Jaime had to witness and hear for himself, yet he could do nothing about it. He wanted to save her, but how could he when his own brothers in white told him to stand aside? He should have killed Aerys then. He would have died for it, but how much devastation would have been prevented if he'd found the mettle to end the Mad King sooner? Would the people still judge him for it then? Call him Kingslayer? Or would he be a hero in their eyes? Not that it would have mattered if he was dead. ❝ I am Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister. I was there when my father enlisted Vargo's company. I saw you, once. I'm rather good with faces when I try to be. ❞ It's only right for her to distrust him. She deserved justice, and instead she was met only with more violation. But that was under his father's governance. This is Jaime's army now. ❝ I don't know where Vargo is, but if I catch him alive, I have a sword ready to take his head. It's only fair that I return the favor, considering he had his mummers cut off my good hand. ❞ False appendage lifts between them, light still shining dully against the metal despite the overcast sky. Nothing glimmers like Lannister gold. ❝ You don't trust any lions? Fine. Don't trust any of them, ❞ he gestures to the procession behind him. ❝ But I need you to trust me, if no one else. I want Vargo dead as much as you do. ❞ And it would be a shame to return this way and find her as a pretty corpse. His real hand extends again, offered once more for her to take if she wishes. ❝ Please. Let's at least get you somewhere dry before the rain begins again. A fever would kill you quicker than any brigand. ❞

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Drabble No. 2

Summary: “Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice as quiet as the hiss of a Viper as his eyes focused on yours. You swallowed.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: implied physical violence, anger, implied death, a little fluff

Drabble Masterlist

Your only purpose in life was to get married to a Lord someone would choose for you and bear an heir. 

All your life you had been taught that this was the only thing you were good for. To not say anything and just keep a smile on your face. To just be pretty and well behaved. 

You got so good at it that even people who had known you all your life couldn’t read you. Or they just didn’t care enough. You couldn’t even really remember your mother or your father. Just glimpses of your mothers white hair and your fathers laugh. 

You were the last remaining child of Ballon Greyjoy. Taken hostage after his rebellion by Eddard Stark together with your brother Theon who you hadn’t heard from for years.

Almost everyone you grew up with was dead, leaving you without protection in the red keep after Eddard was executed for crimes he wasn’t guilty of. Your life had changed after his death. 

Tywin Lannister became a little too interested in you, and at first you thought it was because he wanted to marry you off to one of his sons. 

You would have hoped it would be Tyrion, having formed a… companionship over your shared hatred for the king and his remaining family. But when his engagement to Sansa was announced he had withdrawn, leaving you alone with your thoughts and fear for your future. 

It was when Tywin voiced his need for a young new wife and for another heir that your greatest fears came to life. 

You had tea with Cersei almost everyday, leaving you in a constant state of fear about your future. 

You did not want to marry Tywin Lannister. 

You wanted to experience love and passion in your life and it was guaranteed you wouldn’t get it from the oldest Lannister. 

It was on one of your daily walks to clear your head that you ran into him.

Prince Oberyn Martell. 

He was like the sun in your cloudy world, giving you a warm teasing smile as he asked you what reason a gentle flower like you had to look like she was on her way to her execution. 

He was the only one who could see right through your fake smile, or who cared enough to ask. 

In just a week Oberyn had sneaked his way into your heart and bed, making you crave for something more. A life that had more purpose than to live in a constant state of fear. 

It was then that you grew careless and let your guard down. 

Something you knew you were never allowed to do, especially with Cersei around. 

You were holding your wrist against your chest, silent tears running down your cheeks as you made your way through the gardens after your meeting with the queen, followed by one of Cersei’s guards and a new handmaiden who’s name you hadn’t bothered to learn.

She was only there to spy on you for the Queen, instructed to report everything you did back to her.

You were so in your thoughts you did not notice you were alone until a arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you in a corner hidden from the outside view, the guard and handmaiden gone. 

“Sweet, sweet sunflower,” Oberyn hummed and you closed your eyes. There was no way of hiding from him as you tilted your head up to look at him, eyes opened, puffy and red from crying. 

His smile vanished from his lips, his face masked in concern as his eyes checked over you for the source of your state. Gently he cradled your throbbing wrist in his hands, the skin already bruising.

You released a shuddering breath as you looked down. Slowly he brought your wrist up to his lips, kissing it softly. He brought one of his hands up, two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up so you had to look at him. 

His expression was still soft, yet his dark eyes had hardened and you knew that in this moment you saw the viper lingering at the edges. He carefully let go of your wrist, bringing his other hand up to gently rub away your tears and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, searching for his comfort. 

He took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. 

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice as quiet as the hiss of a Viper as his eyes focused on yours. You swallowed.

“Cersei… She… She knows… About us…” you whispered. 

“She did this to you?” he asked. And you shook your head.

His face changed only for a split second as he realised who laid a hand on you, knowing who guarded the Queen, giving in to the anger he was feeling as he worked his jaw before he whispered.

“It was him,” he rubbed his thumbs over your cheek and you nodded. 

“Ser Gregor Clegane,” you whispered.

“The Mountain,” he spit and you shuddered, new tears forming in your eyes. 

Oberyn closed his eyes and took a deep breath before his lips crashed down on yours, taking you by surprise. You gasped and his tongue slipped into your mouth, his hands keeping your face close to his, before he parted from your lips, resting his forehead against yours. 

“You are not safe here,” he whispered.

“I never was,” you said quietly, suddenly wondering where your guard and handmaiden went, your eyes searching around. 

“You are safe now, they are gone and you will be safe until I take you away from here. With me.”

“You… You what?” you asked in surprise and he kissed your nose. 

“If you allow me, I would take you to Dorne. You will be safe there.”

“Oberyn… How….”

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” you said right away and he smiled before he kissed you again. 

“Then go back to your chambers and pack what you need. I will send all my guards with you.”

You frowned. 

“Just like that?” you asked in disbelief. 

“Just like that. We will set sail by sunset.”

You looked up at him to search for some answers in his eyes, but did not get any. Slowly you nodded and kissed him softly before Oberyn called for his guards, telling them to guard you with their life before you made your way back towards your chambers, but not without risking a glance over your shoulder, finding Oberyn watching you. 

There were whispers throughout town as the guards sneaked you to the harbour.

Of the Mountain suddenly falling ill and dying within a couple of hours. Of Tywin Lannister’s death by his son Tyrion’s hands. 

You kept your head down as you followed the guards, only allowing yourself to look up when you were walking the path onto the ship, finding Oberyn waiting for you with a satisfied smirk playing on the corner of his lips. 

“Ready to begin your life?” he asked, his hand helping you up on the ship and you nodded as he brought your hand to his lips. 

“What happens now?” you asked later, Kings Landing far behind you as you stood in Oberyn’s arms watching the moon reflect on the silent sea. 

You felt his nose rub over the shell of your ear as his arm pulled you closer against his chest. 

“Whatever you want,” he whispered softly, kissing you behind your ear. 

[hamliet]

Rereading A Storm of Swords

In light of my recent Fire & Blood reread, I decided to reread the whole ASOIAF series because, well, why not. Below are some general observations/musings on the themes, character arcs, alchemy, and foreshadowing. I’ll do this for the others as well. It’s not really a meta proper, so much as observations and thoughts.

Thoughts on A Game of Thrones here and A Clash of Kings here.

Themes

Duty vs Love

Again, Martin contrasts duty and love. Robb forgives Catelyn for freeing Jaime because "what you did, I know you did for love... Love's not always wise."

Meanwhile, Tywin treats his children as pawns, literally trying to marry them again and telling them they'll do what he tells them because of duty:

"Go," their father said. "We shall talk again after you have composed yourself. Remember your duty."

And Brienne defends Robert by telling Jaime that his rebellion is justified because of love:

"Why is it that no one names Robert oathbreaker? He tore the realm apart, yet I am the one with shit for honor." "Robert did all he did for love."

I don't really have a ton new to say that I didn't already say in my ACOK's post, but again, Martin doesn't seem to see duty/honor and love as actual opposites, but instead suggests there's a balance to be struck. The idea that duty at its most extreme transforms people into things, however, is something I'll talk about more later.

Individuality vs Ideas

Part of the reason ASOAIF is so complex is that it's deconstructing the idea that enemies and villains and "red shirts" are just empty ideas rather than living, breathing people. We have this idea throughout all books, but it's emphasized starting in ASOS:

"Enough." The Hound's face was tight with anger. "You're making noise. These names mean nothing. Who were they?" "People," said Lord Beric. "People great and small, young and old. Good people and bad people, who died on the points of Lannister spears or saw their bellies opened by Lannister swords.

Then we have Jon starting to empathize with the wildlings:

He did not want their friendship, any more than he wanted Ygritte's love. And yet . . . the Thenns spoke the Old Tongue and seldom talked to Jon at all, but it was different with Jarl's raiders, the men who'd climbed the Wall. Jon was coming to know them despite himself: gaunt, quiet Errok and gregarious Grigg the Goat, the boys Quort and Bodger, Hempen Dan the ropemaker. The worst of the lot was Del, a horsefaced youth near Jon's own age, who would talk dreamily of this wildling girl he meant to steal. "She's lucky, like your Ygritte. She's kissed by fire."

Martin also uses this "red shirts" idea to open and close the book in the prologue and epilogue. Chett and Merritt aren't particularly sympathetic characters on the outset, but from being in their mind, even if we see Chett as an incel-esque character and Merritt as a coward, we feel their fear and hopes and self-loathing too. It's impossible not to see them as human, and when they realize they're going to die... well. It leaves us with a strange feeling.

We Are All Just Songs

"We're all just songs in the end. If we are lucky." Oh look, we've got a title drop here! A title drop!

ASOIAF is playing with the ideas of stories. For example, characters like Sansa adore simplistic stories of courtly romances. Arya enjoys badass historical stories. Bran enjoys ghost stories. Daenerys enjoys stories about her family's history.

Well, any wonder each of their stories are deconstructing these ideas?

But Martin isn't saying stories are stupid or bad. If anything, he's saying we need stories. Stories are the ideals that help light our way through messy reality.

True Kings, True Knights

Throughout the first few books, we have Sansa telling us "he was no true knight" about the vile people serving Joffrey. The point isn't to mock Sansa, but instead to deconstruct her ideals. Through Sansa's pure-hearted belief and compassion, even for people like the Hound, they start to change and become more and more knightly.

Please note I'm not saying this is okay or whatever, just saying there is some romantic coding between them even when they're apart in the books. Should Sandor return and meet Sansa again, I would expect it to be a textbook chivalric romance:

a highly conventionalized medieval tradition of love between a knight and a married noblewoman, first developed by the troubadours of southern France and extensively employed in European literature of the time. The love of the knight for his lady was regarded as an ennobling passion and the relationship was typically unconsummated.

The "no true knight" mantra is also picked up this book by Brienne, who inspires similar change in Jaime. It's also repeated by Daenerys, with a twist:

"Some kings make themselves. Robert did." "He was no true king," Dany said scornfully. "He did no justice. Justice . . . that's what kings are for."

Again, I highly doubt we're going for a scorched earth burned ashes deconstruction here, but instead digging to the heart of what this means. What does it mean to be a just ruler for Daenerys? As much as she needs to mature and accept worser parts of herself, much like Sansa and Brienne, her general ideals are not themselves wrong, even if their application in the real world is messier than in songs.

Protecting the Innocent:

We have this theme throughout the story: those who protect the innocent are heroes. We even have this in the lore of the story itself, such as the Knight of the Laughing Tree (who is clearly Lyanna, and the incident clearly jumpstarted her relationship with Rhaegar).

Also, can't believe I have to say this, but in ASOIAF, hurting kids iz bad. It's particularly Bad. It's Bad Bad. (Nota Bene: I do not get how the House of the Dragon fans and even its actors do not get this very basic principle in ASOIAF). In earlier books, we had Ned full of regret for the deaths of Rhaegar's children and fear that Robert would hurt Cersei's. Now in ASOS, Martin hits us with this idea in almost every storyline.

Robb loses a lot of his army to punish someone who murdered two children in revenge for his own children. Oh look, it's almost like ASOIAF doesn't condone "an eye for an eye, a son for a son":

"They died," said Rickard Karstark, yielding no inch of ground. "The Kingslayer cut them down. These two were of his ilk. Only blood can pay for blood." "The blood of children?" Robb pointed at the corpses. "How old were they? Twelve, thirteen? Squires."

Then we have Daenerys and the Unsullied and the children crucified on the way to Meereen. The truly evil idea is seeing kids as a weakness, an idea that makes Dany "feel faint":

"To win his spiked cap, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find some wailing newborn, and kill it before its mother's eyes. In this way, we make certain that there is no weakness left in them."

Plus, it's stated directly:

Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children."

Then we have Melisandre arguing that hurting children even for the best of intentions is the right thing to do, but the framing of this--through Davos' eyes--tells us this is completely wrong. Even if you lose your army and your life like Robb. Even if you lose everything. It's. Not. Worth. It.

The Lord of Light cherishes the innocent. There is no sacrifice more precious. From his king's blood and his untainted fire, a dragon shall be born.

(Clearly, this also foreshadows the demise of Shireen.)

Again, Davos, one of the most moral characters in this story, tells us directly what we should think:

"...what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" "Everything," said Davos, softly.

This storyline also seems to be combined with Nissa Nissa, even though Nissa Nissa is an adult and not a child, because Azor Ahai has to sacrifice what he loves most. Stannis will sacrifice Shireen, his child, because she's what he loves most, but it won't work. I'd suggest that the idea is less "Stannis just wasn't chosen" and more "don't kill the innocent."

If there is a sacrifice to defeat the Others, I 100% do not see a Nissa Nissa situation happening, but instead a willing self-sacrifice.

Look Back! Look Back!

All of the characters have to look back if they are to go forward, as Daenerys is reminded by Quaithe. The problem is no one's doing that in their quest to look ahead.

Tyrion: "Some part of him had hoped for less indifference. Had hoped, he jeered bitterly, but now you know better, dwarf. Shae is all the love you're ever like to have". He has to face what happened with Tysha, to face the fact that he participated in that and became her monster, to ever be a better man.

Arya needs to face herself as a Stark and as someone who wants a family even more than she thinks she wants to be powerful: "Jaqen was gone, though. He'd left her. Hot Pie left me too, and now Gendry is leaving. Lommy had died, Yoren had died, Syrio Forel had died, even her father had died, and Jaqen had given her a stupid iron penny and vanished."

And Daenerys has to face her father's legacy, and likely will when she accidentally sets off Dear Old Dad's wildfyre in King's Landing: "If she was not her father's daughter, who was she?" This is the central question of Daenerys' arc. Her identity is in her status as the last living Targaryen. The question is whether she wants to continue the Targaryen legacy of madness and slavery, or destroy it (which she's doing).

Foreshadowing

Arya

When thinking of the original outline Martin somewhat scrapped and that Arya/Jon idea, I do wonder if this is a leftover idea meant to tell us something about Arya's future (namely, that Gendry is likely her love interest instead of Jon):

Arya gave Gendry a sideways look. He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell. She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers.

Tyrion

Well, Tywin says this at the start to Tyrion: 

You are done with whores. The next one I find in your bed, I'll hang.

The irony is Tywin won't find a whore in Tyrion's bed. Instead, Tyrion will find that precise whore, Shae, in his father's bed. And he "hangs" her by strangling her with that necklace.

Jon

Jon "had slain the wildling Orell, but some part of the man remained within the eagle." This is pretty likely foreshadowing for Jon remaining in Ghost for a bit before he's resurrected.

Jon and Daenerys

The story has a middle section somewhat littered with romantic longings and first loves. Daenerys is torn about Jorah, whom she doesn't love like that, and has a crush on Daario. She also sleeps with Irri. Arya and Gendry begin to show attraction. Jaime and Brienne. Jon and Ygritte. But here are some lines between Jon and Ygritte that hint at his romantic future:

She punched him. "That's vile. Would you bed your sister?" "Longspear's not your brother." "He's of my village. You know nothing, Jon Snow..."

"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o' water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers." "What's wrong with flowers?"

Lol well at least she's his aunt?

Jon's already been strongly associated with blue roses, so this hints that Ygritte isn't a perfect match for him. She's kissed by fire, but not actually fire and air herself, like Dany is. Daenerys also liked the fact that the blue rose growing in a chink of ice at the wall "smell[ed] sweetly."

Lastly:

 A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall.

Again, I feel like this might be foreshadowing for Dany and Jon having a child someday. The one thing that makes me skeptical and wondering if the child may be more metaphorical is the timeline--whether or not there's enough time for them to bear a child and save the world from the Others. That said, there's plenty of foreshadowing for it, so...

Sansa

The White Ghost clearly predicts Sansa's hairnet's role in Joffrey's assassination, as well as offers a prophecy of Sansa slaying a giant at, a giant who tries to destroy Winterfell. This may indicate Sansa literally kills a giant at some point, or it might be metaphorical. The one who needs to be slain by Sansa is Littlefinger, but he hasn't really been associated with giant imagery yet just kidding @isammy7936 pointed out the obvious: that the Baelish family crest is the Titan of Braavos.

There's a followup scene of Sansa tearing Robert Arryn's doll that destroyed Winterfell later in the book, in the presence of Littlefinger who was helping her build it. I don't doubt that Littlefinger will help Sansa claim the North at some point, but I also see him trying to destroy the Starks.

Jaime

Oh, Jaime.

I cannot die while Cersei lives, he told himself. We will die together as we were born together.

When I reach King's Landing I'll have a new hand forged, a golden hand, and one day I'll use it to rip out Vargo Hoat's throat.

Smells like foreshadowing to me, although I don't think it will be Vargo Hoat's throat he rips out, but Cersei's he strangles.

Alchemy

Daenerys and Red

Continuing with Dany's theme of becoming red, sulfur, fire and air, the first city she takes is Astapor, a red city:

In the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a red brick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze... Even through the thickness of her sandals, she could feel the warmth of the red bricks underfoot. 

The other red association I've seen is her dream that she is Rhaegar fighting the Others at the Trident. Most seem to think the battle against the others will end at Winterfell, which I tend to agree with. However, the fact that the final climax should involve red at some point makes me wonder, because this takes place specifically at the Red Fork of 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.

Then again, fire is certain to be involved in defeating the Others, so it might well be red enough with that.

Bran and White

To continue the Starks are water and earth and white idea, Bran has this quote:

Moonlight painted the wet woods in shades of silver and turned the grey peaks white. Owls hooted through the dark and flew silently between the pines, while pale goats moved along the mountainsides.

Sansa and White

When I reread AGOT, I did take note that Sansa was given a red rose by Ser Loras, rather than the white he gave other girls. But in ASOS, Sansa talks to Loras about that very moment, and the point of this conversation is to reveal how little it meant to Loras. He gave her a red rose because he grabbed a red rose first, not because it meant anything. Seems like a meta commentary.

Arya and White/Water

When Arya dresses like a girl for the first time again, she wears something "lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls."

Furthermore, Arya routinely stops to give water to the dying, even the executed. Even when people, like the Hound, ask for wine (red), she gives them water.

Brienne and Jaime

For Jaime and Brienne, there's very little I can say about their alchemical weddings that the fabulous @argentvive hasn't covered. The first is the dual in the creek, which is with swords and violent, while the second is in the bath. The first one is also littered with romantic and sexual imagery, and is frankly what I'd call metaphorical sex:

No sooner did she turn one cut than the next was upon her. The swords kissed and sprang apart and kissed again. Jaime's blood was singing. This was what he was meant for; he never felt so alive as when he was fighting, with death balanced on every stroke... He laughed a ragged, breathless laugh. "Come on, come on, my sweetling, the music's still playing. Might I have this dance, my lady?" ... She looks as if they caught us fucking instead of fighting.

Brienne is also marked as water/earth, and white, while Jaime is red and fire. Jaime tells Brienne:

Think of Tarth, mountains and seas, pools, waterfalls, whatever you have on your Sapphire Isle, think . . . 

Jaime slid into the offered seat quickly, so Bolton could not see how weak he was. "White is for Starks. I'll drink red like a good Lannister." " "I would prefer water," said Brienne. "Elmar, the red for Ser Jaime, water for the Lady Brienne..."

But after their second chemical wedding in the baths, they take on each other's qualities much more. Jaime dons his white cloak, lives in the white tower, and gives Brienne his Valyrian steel sword, which is colored with Lannister red (and is also a phallic symbol).

Arya and Gendry

Arya and Gendry's scenes become slightly romantically charged in this book. After she dresses like a girl, this conversation takes place.

Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her. "You look different now. Like a proper little girl." "I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns." "Nice, though. A nice oak tree." He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. "You even smell nice for a change."

They then fight in a scene that parallels the Brienne and Jaime wrestling scene above.

Reconciling Opposites:

Another idea in this book spoken of by multiple characters is that of reconciling opposites. That's what alchemy is fundamentally concerned with. Meera states that hate and love are essentially two sides of the same coin. Barristan says greatness and madness are the same. Melisande says:

"The night is dark and full of terrors, the day bright and beautiful and full of hope. One is black, the other white. There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Male and female. Pain and pleasure. Winter and summer. Evil and good." She took a step toward him. "Death and life. Everywhere, opposites. Everywhere, the war."

Again, George has pretty much confirmed Dany and Jon are the Song of Ice and Fire, so they need to unite.

Tyrion

One thing I wonder about is the use of homonculus (sometimes represented as a dwarf) and a rebis in alchemy, and whether or not Tyrion is intended to be a portrayal of either or both or neither. Homonculi are sometimes called "monsters", a name Tyrion bitterly embraces by the end of the book. Oberyn says that after Tyrion's birth, there were rumors he had the genitalia of male and female, but Tyrion didn't. At the same time, he does have odd features like two different colored eyes, etc that might hint at him being seen as an alchemical rebis. I don't know.

Other Thoughts

Tyrion as a Targaryen

Not only do I think it doesn't thematically work to have Tyrion as a Targaryen, but I think the line used at the end of this book as evidence ("You . . . you are no . . . no son of mine") strongly indicates the opposite--that Tyrion is indeed his father's son. You see, Tywin literally says the exact same sentiment only a few chapters earlier to Jaime:

The strained silence went on until it was more than Jaime could endure. "Father . . . " he began.

"You are not my son." Lord Tywin turned his face away. "You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and only that. Very well, ser. Go do your duty."

If people want to argue the Tyrion Targaryen angle, this is not really evidence itself.

Tyrion the Monster

Tyrion's the first of the Main Six to dive off the cliff, starting at the end of this book where he lies to Jaime to tell him he killed Joffrey, desperate to hurt Jaime the same way he's hurting. He's enraged he literally saved the city and no one cares; they all just want him dead for his disability, for things he cannot help. He can't even find love because of it, and he craves love. So he finally decides to be the monster they think he is.

Insofar as the other two likely heads of the dragon go... I think they'll take similar approaches to their dark spirals. We see hints of it this book. Daenerys won't look back until confronted with it, so she'll probably be like "let me prove myself with fire and blood" (actually, this is exactly what her ADWD arc leads to her deciding to do). Jon notes the fact that people assume bastards are craven and scheming, and I do not doubt that is exactly what Jon will become after he's resurrected: he's probably going to ditch the Wall, the fight, and everything for a time.

Jeyne Westerling

Poor Jeyne. Despite her mother's machinations to get Jeyne to seduce Robb, I do believe she and Robb genuinely loved each other--as much as anyone could. Their story seems to be a deconstruction of the "love at first sight" trope, wherein they love each other but don't entirely know each other, and have to get used to each other as people rather than as just objects of love. Hence, Jeyne turning to Catelyn for advice. Which frankly was a wise thing to do :'')

The True Fight

Davos reminds Stannis what the true fight is: up north, fighting the Others. I'm sorry but I can't see the books ending with the show's ending, where the true fight is against humans. No, this isn't thematically contradictory with the idea that the story is about humanity or the human heart against itself; the opposite in fact.

The true fight all humans face is against death, and what we do to live in the face of the reality that we're all going to die.

[docpiplup]

DAENERYS TARGARYEN APPRECIATION MONTH 2022

Day 9: Anti-Parallels with Westerosi Monarchs (Cersei, Stannis and Robert)

-Dany taking care of child hostages on Meereen

Dany pushed her food about her plate. She dare not glance over to where Grazhar and Qezza stood, for fear that she might cry. The Shavepate has a harder heart than mine. They had fought about the hostages half a dozen times. "The Sons of the Harpy are laughing in their pyramids," Skahaz said, just this morning. "What good are hostages if you will not take their heads?" In his eyes, she was only a weak woman. Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? "These murders are not their doing," Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. "I am no butcher queen."

A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys IV

-Cersei ordering to kill Robert's bastard children on King's Landing

"No," Tyrion snapped. "Damn you. Damn her." He could not touch Cersei, he knew. Not yet, not even if he'd wanted to, and he was far from certain that he did. Yet it rankled, to sit here and make a mummer's show of justice by punishing the sorry likes of Janos Slynt and Allar Deem, while his sister continued on her savage course. "In future, you will tell me what you know, Lord Varys. All of what you know."

The eunuch's smile was sly. "That might take rather a long time, my good lord. I know quite a lot."

"Not enough to save this child, it would seem."

"Alas, no. There was another bastard, a boy, older. I took steps to see him removed from harm's way . . . but I confess, I never dreamed the babe would be at risk. A baseborn girl, less than a year old, with a whore for a mother. What threat could she pose?"

"She was Robert's," Tyrion said bitterly. "That was enough for Cersei, it would seem."

A Clash of Kings, Tyrion II

-Stannis willingly accepting to sacrifice Edric Storm, his nephew, for R'hollr to try to get dragons (and probably will do the same with Shireen in the future)

"I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning . . . burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. "If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?"

"Everything," said Davos, softly. - A Storm of Swords - Davos V

-Robert approved the deaths of Rhaenys and Aegon, Rhaegar's children, just for getting the crown

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert's hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar's wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, "I see no babes. Only dragonspawn."

A Game of Thrones, Eddard II

[letsasoiaftogether]

Imagine...

..being the niece to Tywin Lannister and growing closer to your prisoner, King in the North, Robb Stark

Word Count: 1,458

Warning: None that I know of!

A/N: Pt. 1 I hope you all like this second part! I personally absolutely LOVE this and plan on doing a third part (I’m just trying to decide a few things! Like if they should end up together, if Robb should still die or if he should be forced to marry reader and then kept as a prisoner at The Rock! Any ideas????

(GIF ISNT MINE)

It had been two months since you had captured the King of the North and his forces as they attempted to make their way to Lannisport and to Casterly Rock. True to your word, you kept them fed and healthy despite being locked away in the dungeons of your family’s castle. However, you also unexpectedly spent quite a bit of time with your celebrity prisoner, Robb Stark himself.

Your aunt Genna expressed concerns about your loyalties every time, and you knew she had even written to your father – Ser Kevan – requesting he return from the capital to overlook the traitorous Stark before your feelings turned you traitor against your own House.

Her words went without a response from your father or from your uncle, unsurprisingly.

Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan knew where your loyalties lied. They knew that out of your siblings and your cousins, you were the one who had truly always done what was best for the family. More than once you had even heard your uncle use your name against Tyrion when the two would get into arguments over the heir of Casterly Rock title (not that you ever could even as the eldest child to Ser Kevan, you had younger brothers).

Still, as time went on you couldn’t help but worry that your aunt’s fears weren’t completely without merit.

The Young Wolf was honorable and he wasn’t entirely wrong in his march south, even if it had been foolish to do it.

Westerosi law states trueborn children come before bastards and bastards must be legitimized before they can inherit. Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen…they are bastards as they are not King Robert’s children. Therefore, Lord Stark had only been following the law.

He had just been foolish enough to think that your cousin and her awful son would uphold the words on a piece of paper.

And if that’s the case then the entirety of House Lannister is committing treason by not handing it down to Lord Stannis.

These weren’t new thoughts to you. Ever since the rumors had begun about Cersei and Jaime, you had thought them over and over again trying to figure out what was the best course of action for – not your family – but for yourself.

If it came down to it, would you do the right thing and kneel to Lord Stannis Baratheon as he was the rightful heir to his elder brother? Or would you stand with your House and fight until the bitter end for the lives of a few family members who…who were entirely selfish and entitled?

“Lady Y/n,” a deep voice and a slight throat clearing pulled you from your thoughts and your gaze to the side where a guard stood, his hand wrapped around the arm of the King of the North

“Ah, good, thank you.” You motioned for him to let Robb go and then motioned for the Northerner to move closer, your gaze returning to the cage in front of you and the beast within.

The young man didn’t try to hide his annoyance for the guard as he ripped his arm free and moved forward, coming to stand next to you – his Tully blue eyes immediately on the wolf as it got to its feet, watching Robb.

You didn’t try to hide your amusement as you dismissed the guard. Robb had grown more and more agitated by each passing day, and it was a comment he had made the day before that had you going to the kennels and summoning him there that afternoon.

“There are tales of Northerners who could…put their mind into animals. Wargs? That’s the proper term, yes?” you hummed as you reached into the pocket of your dress to grab the golden key from within. “And these wargs…they have familiars, particular animals that they are especially close to.”

You had heard the stories. Who hadn’t?

Robb Stark, the King in the North, the Young Wolf. Rides into battle on the back of a large direwolf (which you knew to be false since he had been on a horse when he had been apprehended) and can turn into a direwolf himself when he wants to.

The young man beside you was watching you closely, his eyes ever so slightly narrow as he watched you unlock the cage his wolf had been kept in.

“And that man and familiar can feel the other’s emotions no matter the distance.” You slipped the key into your pocket while keeping a hand to the cage door, holding it shut as you turned your attention from Robb to Grey Wind “If you are to die, Robb Stark, I don’t wish to rip this last bit of home from you. I won’t…be the cause of your soul not being at peace when you go.”

And you stepped back to lean against the cage on the other side of the aisle, watching the excitement and love spread over the Young Wolf’s face as he quickly opened the door and dropped to his knees, his wolf plowing into him with loud barks and licks to the man’s face.

Slowly, you dropped to your own knees in wonder.

Any other person would have been terrified of the wolf’s size, but not Robb Stark. It was as if his wolf was a pup to him by the way he hugged him and spoke to him. He didn’t even tense when the wolf nipped at his shoulder, playfully. Robb simply laughed and called him a “crazy mutt” while rubbing the fur between his ears.

Just a boy and his dog.

He’s still just a boy…

…a boy trying to save his House and do what’s right…

“How old are you, Stark?” you asked, softly, a little bit scared that if you spoke too loudly his wolf would bite your face off.

He turned his head the same time the wolf calmed (scarily quick) and laid down next to his…owner. Robb shrugged and responded with, “Sixteen.” And continued to watch you, probably waiting for your reaction.

Sixteen.

He’s only sixteen?!

“You…your people crowned a boy to be their King?” Reaching out, slowly, you grabbed Robb’s chin and squeezed ever so slightly. Turning his face to look at all the angles, you couldn’t help the anger that had sparked in your chest at his admission.

How could the North do this to him? Why would Lady Stark allow her son to be crowned? He was a boy who had been raised to be a Lord. That was one thing. But to be a King and to not just be King of the North they gave him the Riverlands as well?

“I’m not a boy. I’m of age.” He argued feebly, his blue eyes wide – having done so the moment you touched him.

“Barely.” You hissed, letting him go

There’s no wonder, no, why he’s so damn honorable and clueless about making the tough decisions. He hasn’t lived through pain until his father was murdered.

The wolf whined softly and stood, moving between you and Robb.

“Grey Wind,” Robb murmured, placing a hand to the wolf’s back as you moved to press your back against the cage once more.

The grey wolf stared at you with its yellow eyes as it came closer.

“Stark,” you warned, holding out a hand toward the guards at the back of the kennels who had been watching the two of you and the wolf the entire time.

Robb moved to stand and pull the wolf away when Grey Wind took the last step toward you and…

…and nuzzled my face.

His fur was soft and his breath warm on your skin. He smelt like an animal but there was something else as well, something that screamed Robb Stark to you.

“Oh,” you breathed out, bringing your hands up to lightly brush through the wolf’s mane. It tickled your palm, but you hardly noticed as you turned your face, pressing it against the side of Grey Wind’s head. “Hello boy. You’re not so scary after all, are you?” you murmured, smiling slightly

There was a comfortable silence in the kennels for several minutes before Robb spoke up, asking “How old are you, My Lady?”

Having expected the question, you pulled away from Grey Wind and said, “Older than you, Your Grace.” A teasing smirk appearing on your lips at the look of slightly irritation on the young man’s face, “I’m nineteen. The eldest of Ser Kevan’s children.”

There was another pause and then a whispered, “When I am killed…please make sure my bones get back to my mother and…and tell her I am sorry for not listening to her better. That I am sorry…about everything.”

And a single tear slipped from your cheeks at the fear lacing each word.

[samieree]

Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

The young former Princess Visenya, and now Maegelle Targaryen, after the death of King Robert I Baratheon can finally come to King's Landing without fear of death at the hands of Robert, who has vowed to kill any Targaryen he can.

Exactly, "any Targaryen he can"…

He hasn't been able to touch Maegelle since Tywin Lannister took her to Casterly Rock and she was under his care for the next seventeen years, raised to be against her real family. Even her changed name is to make her realize who she should be.

But will she listen to it? After all, she had spent her entire life with the murderers of her family…

Introduction

Maegelle (Visenya) Targaryen

The only surviving child of the late Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell.

The first woman named Visenya since the conquest of the Seven Kingdoms, who was miraculously saved from death by Tywin Lannister before the Mountain could hurt her.

She was just a baby, she doesn't remember anyone from her immediate family. However, thanks to her servant Selaria, she knows the truth about her parents, her ancestors and their language.

She was secretly learning valyrian, following the traditions of her family and where they came from.

After the death of Robert I Baratheon, the best and worst period of her life begins at the same time... A time when she will have to fight for herself, perhaps even with her family...

The silver-haired daughter of Rhaegar, who had never even met her. Visenya Targaryen.

Prologue

"Ah, how beautiful it would be to leave them all and go on your own!" King Robert Baratheon said as he sat down in a chair at a table spread out on the grass.

"I'd go with you." His longtime friend Eddard Stark replied, sighing softly and looking at the fields stretching out around him.

"So what do you say about that? Just us and our swords, and of course the wenches in the taverns to warm a little our old bones." Robert suggested, taking advantage of the food spread out on the table.

"You should have proposed that twenty years ago."

"Ugh..." he sighed and threw something on his plate. "We had our wars, women... But never youth."

"I remember it a bit differently..." Ned replied, making his friend laugh and then he smiled at the memory of the past.

"Including that one wench, how was she?" At this point Ned's mood turned a bit, but he didn't let it show. Nevertheless, he stopped listening a bit to what Robert had to say to him later and replied immediately.

"You mean Bessy?" He asked, as if looking at his friend, but his thoughts were somewhere else.

"Yes, Bessy... Thank the gods for her and her tits." they laughed lightly. "And how was yours? Alina...? Ugh, you know who I mean, bastard's mother."

"Waila."

"Of course... She had to be good to make Stark forget his honor." Robert noted. If he only knew the truth... "You never said what she looked like." maybe because she wasn't there?

"And I won't." Eddard declared, looking away from his friend and focusing again on the field and the forest in the distance.

"We were in the war." Robert began. "We had no idea if we would survive it." He seemed to be trying to comfort a friend who was all too good at hiding the truth. "You are always too strict with yourself and probably if I were not the king, you would have hit me." he said finally.

"And that's the worst drawback of your being king." He replied, smiling slightly.

Would he actually hit him? Who knows, but Ned himself felt he wouldn't have done it, despite everything Robert said. Even if it adds credibility to his lie.

"Believe me, it's not the biggest flaw..." Sighing, he reached into one of his pockets for a piece of folded paper. "A messenger arrived at night." He handed Stark the letter and leaned back on the chair.

"Daenerys Targaryen..." Ned read as he unfolded the paper. "...she married a Dothraki khal." He looked at the letter a moment longer, raised an eyebrow for a moment, and folded it back on the table. "You want to send her a wedding gift?"

"Yes, a knife, preferably a sharp knife and immediately with a hand that will use it..." he growled angrily, sipping a little alcohol, as was his habit often.

"It's just a child." Ned said dismissively.

"Which will soon spread her legs and start giving birth." His friend added.

"Wait... You are serious?"

"Fully, is it such a disgrace? It was a real disgrace what the Targaryens had done to the Starks, led by Rhaegar Targaryen and what he had done to your sister Lyanna! My beloved, destined for me!" Evidently Robert was irritated about the Targaryen. He leaned over the table a little and added one more sentence with fury in his eyes. "I will kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on!"

"You're not doing very well, three of them alive, including one in Westeros." Ned commented, making his interlocutor even more angry.

"Because bloody Tywin Lannister keeps her in his stronghold, hiding her from the world! And over the sea it is said that Khal Drogo has a hundred thousand warriors!"

"Even a million dothraki aren't a threat to us as long as they are on the other side of the sea, without ships!" Stark tried to explain it all to him as simply as possible, raising his voice a little at him to make it clearer.

"But there are still people who call me a usurper. If a young Targaryen ever stands on this land, there will be some rogues to support him.

"If. And yet he will not cross, the Dothraki believe that great water is poisonous. And even if he miraculously succeeds, we'll push him over to sea." Robert fell silent after his friend's words, and after a moment of watching him, he drank again.

Honestly? He didn't quite know what to think about it. It irritated him immensely that he couldn't kill this bloody lineage to the end, especially the person he had on the same continent. Once... He almost made it once, when he saw her when he arrived at Casterly Rock. But still the fucking child got away with her life, and she still dares to breathe in these lands. An innocent child? Idle talk, they've killed so many Targaryen children already and they've just decided to spare her? There had to be a purpose for it, he just couldn't get there yet.

"War is coming, Ned." Robert finally said, deciding not to share his thoughts after all. "I don't know when or with who, but I'm sure we will fight." ~ -> Chapter I "Home?" -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

I won't tell you with who Visenya's gonna end up, because... Well, there will be a few love stories across the book 😅 Enjoy

But I can give you a small spoiler of who will show up in the book 👀 ↓

Ser Arthur Dayne