#please. i need them to go up against asoiaf. please.

[thealtoduck]

Forbidden Fruit

Theon Greyjoy x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, Theon in his asshole era, anal sex, loss of virginity, doggy style, use of the word ”whore”, use of the word ”maiden” for a virgin man because it’s a thing in the GoT/Asoiaf, Theon referring to your ass as a ”cunt”, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, spit as lube, everyone kinda wants to fuck you too…

Summary: Theon has his eyes set on you and wants to be your first…

——

The sounds swords clanging against each other rang out over the courtyard of Winterfell as Theon Greyjoy and Robb Stark practised their swordfighting. Both of them in full focus on the task of beating the others.

Theon was just about to land a winning strike when someone behind Robb distracted him, stealing his focus. A beautiful young man, Y/n Poole, the son of the steward of Winterfell. Theon was distracted just long enough for Robb to be able to knock him to the ground.

”Come on Theon, keep your eyes on your opponent” Robb said annoyed and turned to see what Theon had been looking at, his eyes landing on you. ”Y/n, the steward’s son?” Robb questioned his friend. ”I’ve heard one of the chefs claim he took his virginity but he was drunk so i think he might have lied” Robb gossiped as he continued looking at you.

”I wouldn’t mind fucking him myself” he then said to the annoyance of Theon. ”Oh please, is the little lord Robb Stark gonna fuck the steward’s son?” Theon mocked him. ”He needs someone to take his boy cunt like the little whore he is” Theon said looking hungrily towards you as you were talking to a couple of castle guards.

”And that’s going to be you?” Robb questioned sarcastically. But Theon wasn’t listening he was already planning.

——

That night during dinner…

Theon watched you as you sat next to Jon, chatting cheerfully. Theon needed to catch you alone. Luckily for him he’d get his shot soon… You were also sat next to Sansa Stark which put you in the crossfire between her and her sister Arya’s never ending war.

Arya loaded her spoon with a piece of meat pie and launched it towards Sansa… but she missed hitting your chest, dirtying your light grey tunic. ”Arya! Look what you did?!” Sansa scolded her younger sister. ”I’m so sorry about her” Sansa apologised frantically as she tried to wipe of your shirt with a cloth napkin.

”Don’t worry about it Lady Sansa, i’ll just go change” you said calmly, standing up from the table and walking off. Theon saw this was his chance to finally meet you alone.

He soon managed to sneak away from the the dining hall. He stopped by the kitchens and snagged two goblets and a pitcher of wine, then he made his way through Winterfell castle towards the small part occupied by Steward of Winterfell and his family.

He knocked on the door he knew belonged to you. ”One moment” came your voice from the inside. Then the door opened revealing you in a nightshirt and underwear, you quickly wrapped yourself in a thin blue robe to cover up more for you’re unexpected visitor.

”Theon” you said happily at sight of him. ”Sorry, i’m not more properly dressed i was just about to go to bed” you said tying your robe. ”Oh no worries” he said with a flirty smile, you were gonna be even less dressed once he was done with you.

”How can i help you?” you asked. ”Oh, i just wondered if you’d like to have quick drink with me” he said holding up the pitcher and the two goblets he brought. You looked unsure. ”If your not too tired of course” he quickly added.

”Of course, a drink wouldn’t hurt” you said and held open the door for him, letting him in to your bed chamber. Theon observed the room, it was smaller than his own. It had a small square window with a nice view. A little fire place where a fire was burning, heating up the cold castle room.

A square table with a set of two chairs and a clothing chest right next to it. And finally the bed, which was draped in soft blankets. Above it hung a banner for your House, House Poole. The room was textbook definition of what Theon would describe as cozy.

You sat down in one of the chairs by the table, as Theon put the goblets on the table, pouring wine in each and then putting the pitcher down. He sat down in the other chair, you both grabbed your goblets. ”Cheers” Theon said and you clinked your goblets together and drank.

The two of you talked for a while. Theon decided to start testing the waters. He moved his leg slightly making it rest against yours, your eyes drifted to his leg for half a second before you looked back to him but you didn’t move away.

Time passed as you told Theon a story, once you finished it became quiet through the chamber. ”You’re really pretty you know” Theon stated boldly filling the silence in the room. Before you had time to respond Theon started talking ”Some of the staff has been talking about it, how they want to fuck you. Even the lordling Robb Stark said so”.

”And i understand them, you are very pretty” he continued. You looked rather unsure what to answer. ”Tell me Y/n, have you ever been fucked before?” Theon asked shamelessly, leaning closer to you. ”I… no, i have not” you told him, trying to stay casual.

”Would you like to be?” Theon then asked immodestly, leaving you slightly stunned. ”By-…By you?” you asked, Theon gave you a smirk as comformation. ”I-I wouldn’t know what to do” you said shyly. Theon played with the strings of your night shirt and said ”Don’t worry, i’ll show you”.

He then pulled you in to a kiss, his lips pushing hungrily against yours. Theon pulled you both up from your seats leading you to the middle of the room as you made out. Theon pulled of your robe, then his own jacket and he continued until you were both left naked in front of each other.

Your dick had gotten erected from Theon’s sudden interest in you and it made Theon’s own manhood swell with pride. He took your wrist in his hand and guided your hand over his slightly fuzzy chest down to his erect manhood. It was the first time you had ever touched another man in such a manner.

He made you enclose your fingers around his hardend cock and tug at it a little, rubbing him off slowly. ”Feel what you do to me Y/n” he uttered.

He led you backwards towards your beds and your naked bodies climbed up on it. Theon laid you down on the bed and the two of you passionately made out. Theon moved his hands to you ass and let his fingers graze against your hole.

You were unfamiliar with his action as you had never experienced it before but let Theon continue. He slowly started pushing his finger inside you, making you audibly gasp against his lips at the feeling of being streched out. ”That’s right relax” Theon instructed.

Once he added next finger he did it more hastily, making you yelp quietly. Theon let out a small chuckle ”Such a warm nice cunt for me to fuck” Theon said before shoving in a third finger.

Theon then stood up on his knees, he grabbed you and positioned you on all fours, ass spread out in front of him. He spit in to his own hand rubbing it on his manhood. ”I’m gonna take you like a real lord would” Theon said which you wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a warning.

Theon didn’t waste any time and started pushing his rockhard cock inside your virgin hole, making you groan, feeling yourself be filled. ”Fuck your tight around my cock” Theon said pleasureably sheathing himself fully inside you.

Before you had time to adjust he snapped his hips forwards thrusting into you making you release a small cry. ”Was this what he had meant? Was this how lords fucked their wives?” you thought to yourself.

Theon grabbed your hips and started setting a pace a his hips thrust against your ass. His raw cock forcing your walls to stretch, you released several whines as Theon roughly plowed in to you. ”Fuck Theon, you’re so big” you said through your pained but pleasured moans.

Theon grabbed your head as he pounded your ass saying ”What would your steward father say? Seeing his son deflowered by Eddard’s Stark ward like some common whore”. As he thrusted as hard in to you as his body would let him.

”Maybe i should go get him after this and make him come look at his son’s cum stained ” Theon said cockily. You however couldn’t answer him as you had your face pressed against the matress moaning endlessly from the ecstasy of Theon’s cock fucking you.

”Maybe i should start coming by every night and make good use of your cunt and fill you with my seed” he suggested, his thrusts rocking your bed back and forth. ”Shame you can’t have my bastards” he added.

From the endless groans to the creaking bed, you hoped no one could hear you getting your virginity fucked out of you by Theon. You felt your own cock twitching getting close to your orgasm. ”I’m gonna cum” you moaned. And soon after your load dripped down on the sheets below.

Theon kept plowing in to you for several minutes, claiming your ass as his. Sweat glazed his and your body as the room had gotten hot and damp. He grunted and uttered a satisfied ”I’m gonna fill you with my cum”.

With one last rough thrust Theon shoved his manhood deep inside you, his cock erupting staining your innocene with his warm seed. He then pulled out of you with a smirk, seeing his cum leak out of puckered hole and running down your legs. You collapsed on to the matress below in exhaustion.

Theon was just about to get ready to leave but he couldn’t leave you like this. He covered your nakedness under the covers and blankets. He then started getting dressed and before he left planted a kiss on your forehead saying ”You were so good to me, Y/n, better than any common whore, you were divine”. He then gave you a last kiss before he left your bed chambers with a smirk and a feeling of satisfaction, and maybe even a little bit of love.

#theon greyjoy x male reader #theon greyjoy x male!reader #a song of ice and fire x male reader #game of thrones x male reader #game of thrones x male!reader #asoiaf x male reader #x male reader #male reader #x male!reader #theon greyjoy x male reader smut #game of thrones x male reader smut #male reader smut #x male reader smut

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

There was this thread on r/asoiaf the other day that was complaining about how ASOIAF stans seem to lose all creativity when it comes to theorizing about Dany’s endgame. The OP argued that people are so sure that Dany’s story can only end in death even though nothing is set in stone and the story would still be very good if she lived to the end.

Predictably, the comments in the thread proceeded to double down on why Dany is 100% “doomed” and marked for death, which is very funny because not only did they completely miss OP’s point, but they started citing statistics that I have personally never heard of. How can anyone except George R.R Martin know what is 100% Dany’s endgame? Are there some mathematic equations I need to be aware of? Can someone share with the class please…

See, I agree with that OP big time. It’s a bit annoying to go through fandom spaces and have to see the same old posts about how Dany is an instrument of death and so she needs to be put out at the end of the story. Others will try to argue that she will die a hero as a means of being a bit more charitable. It seems that everywhere I go, Dany’s endgame always ends in death. There really is an obvious lack of creativity when it comes to speculating about her endgame.

I have an issue with using death to define Dany’s story because she is so much more than that. People get so caught up in the “bride of fire” and “daughter of death” aspects that they forget about what Dany actually does. She goes around liberating people! Yes she brings death…to those who harm others and deserve it. She is not bringing death wholesale to innocent people but she is bringing death and destruction to corrupt institutions. That’s the whole point of her character. She is a liberator. She is a savior! She is a dragon and the dragon cleanses. To the slaves she is the Breaker of Chains. To those who have glimpsed of the coming Long Night, she is the Prince(ss) That Was Promised. To all, she represents hope for the future. Hope for life and liberation from death.

Dany gained so much power throughout her arc so far and she could have taken a ship straight to Westeros, but she used her new found abilities to free people from slavery; she chose to liberate them from death. Really, that’s how I view Dany’s campaign against slavery. Slaves aren’t treated as people; their humanity is discarded, they have no will, no future, no hope. It’s almost like a death of the person though they may not physically be dead. Then in comes Daenerys Targaryen, a young girl with nothing but her dragons and her compassion, who says to them “you may not matter to them but you matter to me and I will save you”. Where the slaves didn’t have free will before, Dany gives it to them. I’m remembering the unsullied who didn’t even have names but Dany gave them the ability to pick and choose their own; which seems like such a small act but means so much more because names are important in humanizing people. She represents new beginnings.

Dany’s crusade across Slaver’s Bay is a big deal. She didn’t have to do it but she did it anyway. There was no personal gain for her but she did it because she cares so deeply about people. And then she gets to Meereen and decides to stay there because her “children” need her. She cannot and will not abandon strangers to a fate of death. And the people know that.

I’m just thinking of this quote:

“I am no lady,” the widow replied, “just Vogarro’s whore. You want to be gone from here before the tigers come. Should you reach your queen, give her a message from the slaves of Old Volantis.” She touched the faded scar upon her wrinkled cheek, where her tears had been cut away. “Tell her we are waiting. Tell her to come soon.”

- Tyrion VII, ADWD

And this one too:

“I told you, I know our little queen […] this Mother of Dragons, this Breaker of Chains, is above all a rescuer. The girl who drowned the slaver cities in blood rather than leave strangers to their chains can scarcely abandon her own brother’s son in his hour of peril.”

- Tyrion VI, ADWD

These people have never even met Dany but to them, she is hope and freedom and life! She is salvation, and that’s the point. She has spent much of her arc fighting slavery which is in preparation for her ultimate destiny as a savior to defeat the Others. Because they not only bring death to the land but they also threaten to enslave humanity through death. However, they cannot triumph over the Breaker of Chains; the great savior that is Daenerys Targaryen! That’s what her story has been building up to. And it’s not that Dany is saving people and peacing out (e.g., dying in a sacrifice). The point is that she herself persevered. And because she persevered, her people will too. It’s that her constant survival ensures that of others.

Dany grew up penniless, homeless, hungry, and even started out as a 13 year old slave to Khal Drogo. She could have given up but she didn’t because through everything, she is resilient. She is determination and perseverance in the face of death. When she walked into that funeral pyre she could have died, but she lived and emerged as the Mother of Dragons - these dragons that have been instrumental in freeing slaves and will ultimately be important in the Other’s defeat. She “died” in that pyre and was “reborn”, and this rebirth is moving her closer to ensuring that the rest of her people overcome death as well.

That’s why it’s more thematically meaningful for Dany to survive the Long Night, in my opinion. She, more than anyone, represents what it means to constantly fight against the odds. She represents what it means to go through all the worst life can throw at you and then not only come out on top, but turn around and use her own survival to ensure that of others’. She has lived through so many trials and persevered; she is the very embodiment of what it means to survive. Because her survival means that where death could destroy, it didn’t. Instead, life prevailed.

If she survives the Long Night, she remains a constant symbol - a beacon if you will - of what’s to come which is better days. Those who are suffering can look to her and see how she went through hell and lived. This would go a long way in boosting morale especially in the aftermath of the Long Night. Because think about it, the people fought against the Others and overcame death, but now they have to survive what comes next. I think Dany is needed because she has already gone through this cycle and will not only be an important figurehead during the War for the Dawn, but she will also be important as the people try to find a will to live beyond death (winter and the Others).

The last book is called A Dream of Spring so I assume this means that it will still be winter - though the Long Night may be over. People will still be hungry, they will be homeless, and they will be tired. They will not know what comes next only that they have to move forward and survive through this new hardship. And you know who has personally experienced these things and knows what it’s like? Daenerys Targaryen! She has survived through it all. So imagine just how powerful it will be for those who survive the Long Night to look at young Daenerys and go, “you know what, I think we’ll get through this one too”. And it will be even more poignant for Dany to lead them to that rest and restoration. Because it’s not just the people who need rest after fighting for so long, Dany does too:

“It is such a long way,” she complained. “I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl.”

- Dany X, ADWD

People take the “dragons plant no trees” part that comes after to assume that Dany will remain stagnant for the next two books and it really is a pity. Someone pointed out a while ago (and I cannot for the life of me remember who this was) that Dany tends to pivot at the end of each book. As she continues to grow and develop as a character, her plans and priorities change. So it’s a bit sad how people assume that she will constantly be in a state of warfare. Because at the moment, Dany’s didn’t isn’t over yet.

Her campaign in Essos must continue and she still has the Others to fight in Westeros. So for now, she cannot truly settle down to plant trees. But she has been learning! She tried to do that throughout ADWD and I don’t see why that learning arc will be discarded at the end of the story. Especially when we consider that few others have actually been learning to lead. The only other character who has is Jon Snow but funny enough, many in this fandom think that he too is doomed to die. I’m not sure why George R.R Martin would kill the two up-and-coming leaders in the story who best answer “what was Aragorn’s tax policy?”

Ultimately, when all is said and done and there are no more wars to fight, I think Dany will finally find her peace and will learn that dragons can plant trees and watch them grow. As all the other heroes in the story, she will probably come out of the Long Night battered and bruised, but everything will be okay because she will still be alive; just like that Bran scene at the end of ACOK, which to me is the very definition of bittersweet. A better ending for her in my opinion isn’t dying in the cold of winter, but rather living and healing and finding a way to build a house with a red door, even though she cannot return to the one she knew as a child. Not only that, she can also provide this house with a red door” for the homeless, beaten, and bruised who survive the Long Night. It’s certainly possible that Martin could write Dany’s death in a way that is poignant and beautiful, but my personal preference is that she lives because of what her survival means for the larger themes in the story.

This whole post has been so jumbled and I’ve rambled a bit but I hope it made sense in the end lol. But anyway….the point is, I’m 1000% Team Dany Must Live!

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #my speculations #kind of #team dany will live #Y’all don’t understand #Dany was my very first love #That’s my homegirl #Her survival means so much more #in the grand scheme of things #Than her death #She and her dragon are a shining beacon of light #and love and life #in the midst of darkness #light prevails #guys LIGHTBRINGER!! #not just bringing life and light #but restoring it as well #it’s same but different idk #my stuff

[thecatsaesthetics]

Okay I have looked for AGES for the "original endgame" of ACOTAR and I cannot find anything that says Feyre and Tamlin were end game. You need to provide an interview or something.

That being said often when fantasy writers are writing the first book they are still mapping things out. It is not a retcon to go back and review and not do something. I do not want to compare this book series (which is a fantasy romance book, heavy on the romance) to ASOIAF but GRRM original "plan" was leaked and it had Sansa Stark pregnant by Joffrey.

Is it a retcon that Martin didn't go through with that? Or did he realize while writing the first book that wouldn't work and I don't like that.

An author during the first book deciding against something they originally thought might happen is not a retcon.

A retcon is when new information is imposed on the text to change the plotline. One of the most notable retcons is Sherlock Holmes "The Final Problem", Arthur Conan Doyle WANTED to kill Sherlock Holmes off, he didn't want to write anymore Sherlock books, and he did in that book. However due to fans demanding more Sherlock Holmes, Doyle brought him back and basically erased "The Final Problem"

That is a true retcon. You being mad that Tamlin and Feyre didn't end up together and that SJM decided she wanted her to explore her and Rhysand's relationship in the next book is not a retcon. That's an author making authorial decisions.

Just move on, the books will NEVER be what you want. This series isn't unique. You can find thousands of fantasy romance novels that are based on Beauty and the Beast. It's an oversaturated genre to be honest. SJM has every right to write her characters how she wants to, she does not need to write to please you. I am so sick and tired of the entitlement of fans who expect every single author to cater to them.

Authors are allowed to write what they want, you aren't criticizing her in a valid way. Just go read something else and move on.

#anti acotar fandom #you guys are super fucking weird

[iheartbookbran]

yeah ita with everything you said! imo the major difference between a show like breaking bad is that the writers were always fully aware of how horrible walt was, and his actions were never excused or whitewashed by the narrative. whereas on hotd the writers are determined to find every excuse in the book to whitewash the greens and make them look like victims of circumstance. and i completely agree with you that the both-sidesing of the greens and the blacks is incredibly fucking annoying! like i’m sorry but the notion that the greens and the blacks are equally bad is ridiculous! i’m not saying that the blacks are perfect or that they’ve never done anything wrong, but the greens are the ones who START THE WAR IN THE FIRST PLACE!!! like the greens literally START A CIVIL WAR DUE TO MISOGYNY and and we’re supposed to think these two sides are equally in the wrong??? i mean i could go into all of the ways that the team green is worse than team black, but i feel like the fact that the greens initiated this due to their opposition to a woman on the throne is the most crucial thing. the “both sides are equally bad” take is apologism for misogyny and it pisses me off to no end.

Like I get the need to flesh out the greens and not making them as outright villains as they are in the book. I get it. But I also think there’s ways to do that without taking away their bite? I mean in asoiaf the Lannisters are very obviously the villains, they are presented to us from the very beginning as the bad guys but they’re still allowed to be sympathetic and fleshed out and even, dare I say, characters the readers can find themselves rooting for.

And yeah, the Dance is a conflict in which everyone does bad things at the end but the greens still end up coming off as worse because at least the blacks get to have characters on their side who are always portrayed as wholly heroic, like Jace, Baela, Addam, and of course the rest of the squad that includes Good Guy Houses such as the Starks, the Tullys and the Blackwoods—no seriously the biggest indicator we get that the blacks are supposed to be the heroes is the fact that the Blackwoods are supporting them, that’s GRRM’s default Manic Pixie Cool House lmfao.

Even Daemon, who orchestrated what’s arguably the worst thing that happens in the Dance (B&C), is still presented as heroic during his lasts moments, maybe he’s undeserving of that heroism but that’s the direction the story takes.

Funnily enough, f&b as a source is heavily biased against Rhaenyra, and I think that’s a deliberate choice on GRRM’s part because he still manages to make Rhaenyra come off as sympathetic and likable at times, even if she does her fair share of war crimes. She, of course, gets the brunt of the criticism out of all the characters on her side, mainly because she doesn’t behave as a “good woman” ought to lbr. People love to bring up the fact that she’s called Maegor with teats in universe as a gotcha for how terrible she was as a ruler without realizing that A) they’re falling into the same misogynistic propaganda that was used against Rhaenyra to hurt her reputation and B) how fucking disrespectful that is towards Maegor. I mean he didn’t kill and torture his own teenaged nephews, kidnaped and forcibly married several women, almost single-handedly annihilated a religion, and brutally murdered anyone who opposed him, only for y’all to claim Rhaenyra was just as bad as him? She fed one (1) guy to her dragon, ordered the execution of a few people and failed to carry it through, and raised some taxes on KL. Being like Maegor? PLEASE, she doesn’t have the flair nor the commitment to be Maegor.

The point about Rhaenyra is that we simply don’t know how she would be as ruler, without the war and the trauma she underwent and affected every single decision she took as queen. Maybe she wouldn’t have been great at the job, but we can summarize Aegon wouldn’t have been any better. It doesn’t matter because that was never the point, and I’m aware I sound like a broken record but idgaf: the Dance was never a conflict in which both sides were equally in the wrong, even if both sides do terrible things, merely because the circumstances that lead to it were a woman being usurped and betrayed on account of simply being a woman. Rhaenyra may not be a perfect victim to some but that doesn’t mean she isn’t one, she doesn’t need to be an enlightened third wave feminist for us to understand that the patriarchy was weaponized against her in order to undermine her, that she was shamed for her sexual liberation and attacked at every turn and made to feel as if she was the irrational one for not peacefully giving up her power to her shitty little brother.

Honestly it’s self-parody at this point because the Venn diagram between people who claim that slaver lives matter and Dany is a monster for wanting to end the practice while not being nice about it, and the people who try to justify the greens’ every action because Rhaenyra started it all by having sex outside of marriage, is almost a complete circle. And they will bend over backwards to try to poor mew mewify Aegon, who in the show is a child r*pist who enjoys watching kids fight to the death, and say that Rhaenyra is just as bad for having children outside the sanctity of marriage with the blessing of her own gay husband who loves and claims those children as his own anyways. Ok.

#Anonymous #ask #ask pam #sorry i had a couple of busy days but i’m trying to make my way through my inbox #rhaenyra targaryen #is justified in everything she’s ever done or will do because she wasn’t the one who started this damn conflict. fight me #hotd #fire and blood #f&b book spoilers #house of the dragon #f&b meta #hotd meta #meta #my meta #fandumb

[horizon-verizon]

I just saw a post that argued that Rhaenys was passive for not starting a rebellion to remain heir (she never was) and that it was disgusting that she would agree to marry her granddaughters.(not her decision) with dirty bastards (🙄) instead of her (drumroll) asking Alicent for help (lol) so Baela and Rhaena would have their birthright. I know that you have already argued most of this in other posts but what made me laugh and come to tell you about it was the ending because: They should also marry one of them to a green PRINCE (Let's be honest it's Aemond because it's always Aemond) because the girls deserved a good match.

A I could almost accept this kind of opinion if they had enough self-awareness to realize that they don't care about Baela and Rhaena, right?. They're just looking to get their favorite boy a castle and Rhaenyra's allies... The same thing they are criticizing her for! Just like they say Rhaenys should have taken the throne by force but they get upset because Rhaenyra didn't turn around and let them usurp her without making a fuss.

*EDITED POST* 10/25/23

Rant coming up.

So one moment they are saying Rhaenyra should have backed off and just let Aegon take her seat because:

"he's already crowned"

"the law is the law"/"girls can't rule, it's custom"

sometimes even "it's for the good of the realm and its 'peace'" (referring to HotD's choice to emphasize the nobles/royals' concern for the smallfolk when no one really cared all that much in the canon)...

Then they now say that Rhaenys should have rebelled and caused violence for smallfolk as well as other lords, she should have fought for her "rights" on the principle of them being her right by being the last heir's only and eldest child, and she should have rejected Viserys' ascension after he's been voted in by a majority by Jaehaerys' moves? The hypocrisy is astounding, honestly.

Not only that, Rhaenys' own son Laenor--a boy--was passed over on account of Laenor coming from the female "line", or being connected to the royal family through a woman, his mother. The lords at the GC of 101 specifically marked this as a reason against her. We really cannot make 1-1 comparisons between Rhaenyra and Rhaenys' loss of power or broken access to the throne as if they had the same specific opportunities & blocks; Rhaenys was more like an heir presumptive to Rhaenyra's actually being an heir apparent. (Viserys named Rhaenyra his heir officially while Rhaenys was a person who had a claim by being the eldest of the last heir apparent and was Jaehaerys I's eldest living grandchild. An heir presumptive is: "one whose right may be defeated by the birth of a nearer heir".) What they shared is that their access to those things was seen as deserving less than that of a man and there were those who actively blocked their ability to become an uncontested ruler in their own right.

Again, that classist/bastardphobia coming out from them and them wanting every character in ASoIaF to follow suit. Not every character is going to be as hung up or pretentious about bastards the old conservative "family values" way, and why? It's both politically inconvenient at times AND it's a whole lot of energy for something that really had no real effect on Rhaenyra or the boys (at least largely) except for the greens taking advantage when they, like other lords who continued to fight for Rhaenyra even after her death, could have chosen to step aside but didn't because they wanted to take that power. Which removes any real moral high ground on their part--their motivation for hating these boys is not pure. I need these people to be able to separate social conditioning & ideology from real strategy, please, just for a few seconds! (POST #2 with a summarization of the previous multi-link link). Being born out of wedlock doesn't make you an icky-sticky monster with the capability of infecting people with "degradation" or "lowering" one's innate "quality" as a human being--there's no moral nor political reason to think that Baela is marrying "wrong" or "down". I must also quickly mention the rumors around Orys Baratheon and confirmed bastards like Jon Snow (GoT/ASoIaF's male darling, as these people tend to conveniently forget), Brynden Rivers/Bloodraven, and Benedict Rivers-turned-Justman who ruled over the Riverlands and established one of the most peaceful dynasties in Riverland history, and a real life bastard who came to be the first Norman king of "England" and is the inspiration for people like Benedict Rivers and Aegon I. These people are strong, capable, trustworthy, and most of the list are loyal to those they followed--qualities that Westerosi Faith says are not natural in bastards...the Faith and society claims the opposite. Already and since day one, GRRM has been telling us not to so flagrantly deny bastards' humanity or to subscribe to them Westerosi stigmas, and here goes people doing exactly that as if they themselves were Westerosi. Which really just shows how they have been salivating for a chance to show their true selves and prejudices, they just needed claimed ignorance or a text they think everyone is paying more attention to where bastards' presence was a stickier point in the specific story.

And why the hell would Alicent--show or book--go out of her way (fav phrase tonight) to help out Rhaenys without any strings?

This is the same woman who in the show imprisons Rhaenys to "slow down" Rhaenyra and is basically trying to force Rhaenys on her side as if that would realistically hold any appeal in lieu of what the show tells us are Rhaenys' interests, which is to stay as far away from this war or supporting either side as much as possible.

Show!Rhaenys told Rhaenyra, her own kin, no....why should she help out Alicent, who is least going to help her out? Alicent's kids are not engaged to Rhaenyra's. Alicent's kids are actually competitors or Alicent wants to become the next royals over Baela, who could have been Queen Consort like Alicent if the green kept to herself.

Alicent is the one who, prodded by Otto, used Rhaenya's husband Vaemond for her own plans to dethrone Luke and Rhaenyra (long-run) and the plan encourages Vaemond's ambitions to his death (yes it's Vaemond's fault that he died, but this maneuvering with people way to close to Rhaenys and her grandkids cannot feel hunky dory to someone in Rhaenys' position! The greens went after a Velaryon, not Rhaenyra).

People seem to also forget that Alicent was trying to get Vaemond to replace Corlys, which also pushes Baela and Rhaena away from what that person you're telling me about is their "right"....which it isn't. Like I mentioned before, Rhaenys nor Corlys in the book and by ASoIaF Westerosi culture/society does not have parental rights over Baela and Rhaena bc they are Targaryens, Daemon is their living father, and in both the show and books Corlys...not Rhaenys...is the real head of that house and never wanted a girl as his heir. Before anyone can name an outsider as their heir, they need to go through their living father/parents. Also, fosterage does not work in the show as the showrunner/writers did for Baela being the ward for the Velaryons for all these reasons. Just no. If these people want to enjoy the show and its weird fan-ficcy bad AUness, fine, but the dynamics do not make sense for the kind of world they are all in. (It's not even that AU fanfic adaptations are inherently bad and useless, I love the show adaptation of Interview with a Vampire...I just want to make it clear that HotD does not align with real Westeros and some things people claim about the show that exist in the book thematically or emotionally cannot be said to be true of the original story).

It was Alicent who tried to get Lucerys' eye cut out after he and his brother were trying to help out their aggrieved cousin/Rhaenys' granddaughter Rhaena..and both her and Baela were nearly beaten by the son Alicent couldn't teach properly. and yes, rhaenys, even in the show, does care for Luke's well-being. In the book, there is a little indication that she doesn't even seem to be willing to NOT see him as her own grandchild.

If Rhaenys, in the show, is as "grandchild-first" as she's supposed to be, how could she ever trust the word of Alicent/greens by their actions? Unless she's forced to, and still, why would she freely approach Alicent and think Alicent would "fight" for Driftmark for her grandkids?! Therefore, Rhaenys, from the books who truly followed Rhaenyra/supported Rhaenyra, has no reason to trust a word of a green over any on Rhaenyra's side. Any marriage to her sons would be more functionally holding Rhaenys, Baela, and Rhaena hostage!

*I didn't realize until it was too late that you already mentioned how hypocritical Rhaenys being a rebel was...*

#asoiaf asks to me #fandom misogyny #fandom critical #green stan nonsense #hotd critical #hotd writing #book vs tv comparisons #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys targaryen's characterization (meleys' rider) #fire and blood characters #alicent's characterization #alicent hightower #westerosi bastards #rhaenys targaryen (aemon's daughter)

[fedonciadale]

I've often thought that for all that there's a certain 'dudebro' portion of the fanbase that squees over ASOIAF being 'grimdark' (i.e. 'realistic' because everything sucks and is awful and good guys 'always lose' and anyone can die, you have to be awful/amoral to 'survive' etc) and the like, the actual series feels far more hopepunk (i.e. fighting for a better world with morality in the face of things being bad). Your thoughts?

Hi there!

Exactly! How can you read passages like these:

Ned knelt beside her. "He has years to find that answer, Arya. For now, it is enough to know that he will live." The night the bird had come from Winterfell, Eddard Stark had taken the girls to the castle godswood, an acre of elm and alder and black cottonwood overlooking the river. The heart tree there was a great oak, its ancient limbs overgrown with smokeberry vines; they knelt before it to offer their thanksgiving, as if it had been a weirwood. Sansa drifted to sleep as the moon rose, Arya several hours later, curling up in the grass under Ned's cloak. All through the dark hours he kept his vigil alone. When dawn broke over the city, the dark red blooms of dragon's breath surrounded the girls where they lay. "I dreamed of Bran," Sansa had whispered to him. "I saw him smiling." (AGOT, Eddard V)

or this:

Beyond, the tops of the keeps and towers still stood as they had for hundreds of years, and it was hard to tell that the castle had been sacked and burned at all. The stone is strong, Bran told himself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, he thought. I'm not dead either. (ACOK, Bran VII)

or this:

It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here.

Yet she stepped out all the same. Her boots tore ankle-deep holes into the smooth white surface of the snow, yet made no sound. Sansa drifted past frosted shrubs and thin dark trees, and wondered if she were still dreaming. Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams. (ASOS, Sansa VII)

or this:

"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. (ASOS, Davos V)

Or this one:

"Be that as it may. My father sat where I sit now when Lord Eddard came to Sisterton. Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward. The Mad King was open-handed with them as pleased him. By then we knew that Jon Arryn had taken Gulltown, though. Robert was the first man to gain the wall, and slew Marq Grafton with his own hand. 'This Baratheon is fearless,' I said. 'He fights the way a king should fight.' Our maester chuckled at me and told us that Prince Rhaegar was certain to defeat this rebel. That was when Stark said, 'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true … but what if we prevail?' My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,' he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.' " (ADWD, Davos I)

I think you have to be especially opinionated to read this and come to the conclusion that ASOIAF is a series that is grimdark and realistic and has no hope. Yes, everyone can die, yes, people are brutal, deaths are brutal, politicians do not care about the cost of lives. And I think ASOIAF will be "realistic" in that regard that some of the baddies might survive. Walder Frey might just die of old age in his bed, Tyrion might become hand, but the Lannister legacy will die and the Frey legacy as well with only the honourable Freys surviving.

In a way it's a 'realistic' hope, a hope against all odds, but that there is no point in hope is definitely not what GRRM wants to convey to his readers. Hope is difficult, it can be disappointed, but it is always the better option.

WHAT IF WE PREVAIL?

That is what drives the better characters. They want to try!

Thanks for the ask!

#ask box #GRRM #ASOIAF #it's not grimdark #Hope is so important in ASOIAF #It's always worth a try #metas be a jonsa #⬅tag if you want to avoid my asoiaf content

[aurora-light-blog]

Propaganda of Daemon Targaryen

It’s amazing how many fans can go so in depth and searching for clues for such great ASoIaF theories. Yet, when it comes to Daemon Targaryen, they believe every rumor said about him. Let’s start with him being a player and deflowering every young maiden.

People tended to forget the facts around Mysaria, his first mistress. Daemon hated his wife and spent years away from her. He met Mysaria, and she became his paramour. An official mistress is a sign of respect ask the old french court, which actually has a principle mistress. Though Daemon went further than just that. He was going to give their child a dragon egg. We as reader aren’t told of the significant of this move. We do know, King Viserys, his brother forcefully prevented him from doing so. Why was this important to Viserys that Daemon not give the egg to his bastard child? Was it simply disgraceful? Or could it have been a way to supersede a king granting legitimacy and being able to legalize the bastard himself? Remember, Jacaerys and his brother proved their legitimacy by their dragon eggs hatching. Because no bastard could ever hatch a dragon as the bias of the times. Now, the biggest conflicting fact is Mysaria had still been his mistress during the time of Dance of the Dragon. Let’s say Mysaria had been 15 years old when she and Daemon first hooked up. How many players stay by their first love for years and have sex with a forty year old woman? Yeah, she had to be around forty years old at the time of Queen Rhaenyra’s reign.

Another weird allegation is that Daemon Targaryen is sexist. I have yet to figure out where that sprung from. Both of Daemon’s daughters are strong and assertive. As a fan mentioned Daemon had played a part in this, since his wife had died. Now, it could have been Rhaenys and Rhaenyra influences. There is a neglect fact people gloss over. Alysanne Targaryen arranged his marriage to Lady Royce and performed the ceremony. The late queen had arranged several marriage, but this is the only mentioned having her performing the ceremony and not a male septon. For such an old woman to go out of her way to do this meant she had a bond with her grandson. This makes sense since Daemon lost his mom as a baby that he would need a mother figure. Growing up with a strong compassionate woman like Alysanne would have gain him a healthy respect for women. Though, the fact for me which disapproves Daemon being sexist is the rank of Protector of the Realm. Many of you are probably thinking that proves it. Actually, real life Queen Jane Grey’s husband demanded his wife made him king. Daemon didn’t do this nor did he throw a fit after she rejected his ideas of marrying Ulf and Hugh to various houses. Actually, if you thinking about it, Daemon had lost all his power once Rhaenyra took the throne. For being the “Protector of the Realm,” he never led any of the forces into battle or even accompanied them like Daeron did for the Greens. He acted as a simple sellsword hired to do one little task of killing Aemond. Considering how big of a threat Vhager was, why weren’t three dragons sent?

As for the allegations of him being a drunk and a gambler, there is no mention of it in series as far as I know (the dark reputation in brothels and stews is too unclear. Please look at my Lord of Flea Bottom for my info on this).  On that, I think fans are being influenced by bigot characters. For example, Daemon was easily bored in his positions and in the War of the Stepstones. These are characters inferences which go against the facts. Daemon was removed from each position on the Small Council and not once for incompetence. Though I grant Master of Coin might have been from boredom, there is evidence to suggest something fishy happened. The master of coins before Daemon then became the master of coins (the same man) after him. As for Master of Laws, it’s clearly stated after six month that Otto Hightower begged the king to get rid of him not for incompetence but for personality conflict. I wonder what the personality conflict was about. Then, there is the allegation of him being bored of the War in the Stepstones in 111AC. Yet, he spent another four years there. He must have not been that bored lol. In addition, Daemon helped improved the City Watch and lower crime. Can a drunken gambler accomplish such a thing?

The thing that I think fans are forgetting about Martin is that he likes history. If you read the old accounts, you’ll find a lot of bias coloring the truth. Lady Anne Boleyn didn’t have six toes and a mole, since the only guy to mentioned this is a strong Queen Catherine supporter. For example, Barristan Selmy relates how great Rhaegar is to Daenerys completely ignoring the fact that he cheated on his wife and started a war. Or even worse, he talked about how terrible Robert is as king, but he brushes over the fact that Aerys was a lot worse. Most of the Dance of the Dragon and the Rogue Prince was information gathered by a fool and a septon. Neither were in a position to truly know all the backroom details, and both were bias against Daemon. Literally, they made Daemon their whipping boy. A murder occurred Daemon must have been behind it. Septon Eustace (who is believed more than Mushroom) accused that Daemon took Rhaenyra’s maidenhood. This is a serious accusation that he clearly didn’t think through. If this was true, King Viserys had grounds to send Daemon to the Wall, which he would do in a heartbeat considering Daemon was the next in line for the throne at the time. Please don’t believe the lies of how freely forgiving Viserys was to Daemon. He removed Daemon from the line of succession. For those who don’t know, King Henry the 8th punished both his daughters this way. If that wasn’t fishy enough, Eustace went on the further claim that Daemon had done something treasonous which cause him to be exile. Now, he isn’t on the Small Council, but the Grand Maester at the time states none of this. Viserys and Daemon quarreled over a private matter. If he didn’t know what it was, then conversation Eustace and Lyonel Strong had about it couldn’t have happen. The Grand Maester also mentioned that Queen Alicent had wished Daemon gone. Hmmm, didn’t Viserys remove Daemon from Master of Laws because of Otto Hightower? Isn’t it more reasonable the Grand Maester who is on the Small Council and advises the king on matters would know this the best?

That’s the point. We, the reader, are constantly being told that Mushroom says this and Eustace claims this. To understand the Dance of the Dragon, we need to dig deeper. Rogue actually means “dishonest” and “a person whose behavior one disapproves of but who is nonetheless likable or attractive.” The title Rogue Prince hints at the truth. People lie about him and disapproved of him like the Hightowers, who ended up his enemies. Please stop judging him on face value from hated enemies’ testimonies.

#Daemon Targaryen #septon eustace #king viserys #mysaria the white worm #dance of the dragons #asoiaf dance of the dragons

[ronnieiswriting]

BY DORNE PART 3

F!reader x Oberyn Martell No descriptive terms for reader, no use of y/n, EXPLICIT, ongoing

Part 1 Part 2

Important: set WELL before the events in Game of Thrones/ Book one of ASOIAF- King Aerys Targaryen is on the throne, Elia Martell is alive, Ellaria Sand is not in the picture (yet?) and Oberyn doesn’t have any daughters yet. As for the universe this is set in, Each major house (Starks, Tyrells, Arryns, Martells etc) are the families that run each region of Westeros but with a 70s backdrop instead of a high fantasy one.

The reader is Oberyn’s favourite arm piece- one he brings to lots of events. He’s known as the hungriest of all the Martells and he likes to prove that to anyone who might question that, therefore, its no secret that Oberyn has had a number of partners and sometimes multiple at once, men and women. Insatiable appetite aside, Oberyn hasn’t enjoyed spoiling any girl as much as he does you, and he’s set on keeping you around for as long as you can keep up with him.

TAGS!!: female masturbation (descriptions, references, partner watches), subtle power play, 70s circle beds, crotchless romper, lots of praise, implied oral f receiving, other sex acts implied/ referenced, feelings, a little bit of angst at the end. ENJOY (if I missed any tags pls let me know!!)

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

If you had expected any other words to be the first from your lover’s mouth the second he found you- after almost two months apart- you would've been disappointed. The first thing he had done, however, was pull you to him eagerly and greet your starved lips with a searing kiss. When you had separated only for the necessity of air, Oberyn had started remapping your body with his hands as if he had forgotten it in his absence.

You hummed against him, arms circling around his neck where his dark curls brushed against your skin. It had gotten longer since he had been away- you wondered if he planned to get it cut soon. “I missed you.” you told him, drawing in a breath of his cologne.

Oberyn groaned. “Honey, did you touch yourself?” His hands climbed up further, thumbs brushing against the sides of your breasts.

You nodded. “Of course I did. I missed every bit of you with every part of me.”

His brow creased in response. The world forgotten, Oberyn led you in the direction of his room. “How many times.”

You weren’t oblivious to the power you had over the man currently attacking your neck with desperate lips, and you couldn’t deny its effect on you- his effect on you- a welcome kind of intoxication. You gave him an answer, “I lost count.”

He nodded against you, lips dragging and stubble catching across your skin when he looked away to fumble with door handles. After he cursed them for sticking, he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll forget all about your fingers when I’m done with you.”

When he finally got the double doors open it was you that pulled him inside, slamming one shut again by shoving his back against it and the other with a kick.

He looked at you differently then- still like an animal of course- for you had never known the hunger running deep in his pitch black eyes to ebb its flow. But this look came when you would reach out and touch the power you had. And nothing needed to be said, no words to acknowledge the truth- the way Oberyn looked at you let you know exactly how he felt about you seizing power.

The hardening length of him pressing against the inside of your thigh also got the message across without spoken language.

You leaned into the sensation and ran a hand up his chest, along the thick chain of his heirloom necklace. Dropping your voice only slightly, you said “Why don’t I show you?”

Oberyn was leaning forward so far on the vanity stool that you were almost sure he’d fall off it and get a mouthful of the brightly coloured shag rug that covered one side of the room. He watched intently as you draped yourself over his circle bed, pulling back the sheer curtain on your way in a manner you hoped was seductive.

Since you knew Oberyn was coming back that day, you’d made a point to wear one of his favourite pieces- a slinky, lace romper with only a few skimpy panels of silk. Though, what he liked about it most (other than the way it barely brushed the tops of your thighs- and the fact that it was sinfully crotchless) was the colour; not the typical warm orange or bright yellow that the Martell’s so famously covered everything in. You were like a beacon in the room as soon as you took off the earth-toned dress you were wearing, capturing the man before you as he drank in the sight of the romper- rich, royal purple.

He had muttered something that sounded remarkably like an old Dornish verse at the garment, swallowed, and restrained himself to the seat where he adjusted himself shamelessly.

Once you had gotten situated against the pile of velvet cushions set up against the arched bedhead, you stretched for effect, reaching high so he’d get a good view of the way your pert nipples peaked against the fabric. Seeking the rush from his response, you looked at him through your lashes and let out the faintest of moans.

His full lips tugged up at that, edging impossibly closer to the foot of the bed. You found yourself wondering how he would look kneeling for you… another time, you thought.

When he smiled fully, you were unable to resist mirroring it. “Go on, baby.” he said, voice strained with admiration. “Show me how you missed me.”

You obliged him, edging a hand down between your legs that you parted wide for your man to see. When you reached your uncovered sex, your eyes locked onto Oberyn’s as you spread yourself open with your fingers and felt the wetness that had began to gather there. It started slowly, your digits easing the anticipation into a low pressure that made your entire body relax further into the plushness of the bed.

He praised the sight, “That’s it, honey.” and you agreed with a lazy hum.

For a few minutes, you were content with the languid pace at which you teased yourself, running fingers up and down your slit and coating your lips with your arousal. Sufficient pressure built, you tilted your hips towards him and pulled one fingertip over your clit. The pleasure was instantaneous but you resisted throwing your head back in favour of maintaining eye contact with the man at the end of the bed. You noticed that he had scooted the chair forward and contorted himself to be eye-level with your cunt, elbows on his knees, one thumb tracing his bottom lip as he drank you in. He began to compliment you again, “Sweet honey, you look so-” but you cut him off when you moaned his name- circling the bud again to the sound of his voice catching. Before you could hold back the flutter of your eyes at the sensation, you saw the devilish smirk that took to Oberyn’s lips. He repeated the sentiment slower this time and complete, matching each word to the tempo of your fingers, “Sweet, sweet honey. You look so fucking gorgeous.”

It was then that you were suddenly, painfully aware that the man who was so good at pleasing you was so close to you and yet wasn’t touching you- not his hands nor his lips or his cock. His tender words were nowhere near your ear and they weren’t kissed into your skin- it was as if he had become the presence you imagined when he was away. And while the both of you were so clearly enjoying the dynamic, it was an intense thing to act out what you had done to imitate his affections in front of him. There was a rush to it- something exciting about showing him how you could superficially replace him- and the powerful feeling you got out of it easily outweighed the frustration of not having him between your legs right then.

Oberyn seemed to enjoy it as much as you did. You coaxed yourself closer to release with one digit slipping just inside every few swipes. You could hear him through it, his voice harmonising with each breathy moan from you and it sounded like he was repeating phrases- thanking the gods for what he was witnessing, cursing himself for not coming back sooner, praising you, encouraging you- and you could tell he was dying to touch himself.

Though you had intended to watch him the whole time, your eyes kept rolling with the effort to chase a climax. Looking at him again, you could’ve pounced on him- he had shifted upright and was working idly at the buttons on his shirt, never taking his eyes off you. He noticed the way your attention drew to the tent in his pants because you showed your appreciation by wetting your lips and arching your back, fingers never stopping.

You moaned his name again and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going to touch myself. To think I’d come in my hand when your pussy is right in front of me- now that would be an insult.”

You replied without thinking, “You don’t have to come- you--” you paused to squirm, finding a better angle, “You could just stroke yourself a bit?” You were offering him the chance to even the dominance, maybe even take all of it. You’d let him.

It was a vain effort and a suggestion he refused entirely. “If I’m going to make you forget about your fingers- I need to see what they can do, right? I need to know what I’m up against.” He returned to his previous position, chain swinging heavily into his bare chest, hands locked together on his knees and gaze set on your dripping centre. “Don’t let up, sweetness, okay.”

His words encouraged you to go faster still and you moaned louder. When you started to thrust two fingers inside yourself everything felt enhanced. Your feet slid against the sheet as you struggled to ground yourself through the rapidly increasing intensity and your gasping breath turned into a string of words, “Gods, Oberyn- I missed you so much.” and “Did this every night- in every room.” A feat you exaggerated a little- Oberyn’s mansion was a relatively small building next to the Martell manor but it couldn’t be called humble. Your whole body started to burn when you told him how you missed his cock.

He didn’t hesitate to rouse you further, telling you how much he missed you- namely, “Your sweet cunt…” You lost sight of him when your head finally fell completely back into the mass of pillows but his voice rang equally insistent and lustful. “You’re my best girl, honey.” he said as you continued to tightly swirl your clit. “My sweet lover- that’s it, baby- so good for me.”

Tantalizingly close now, you reached under the romper to flick your nipples, squeezing because you desperately craved the same level of stimulation he’d so often saturate you with. Chasing that feeling further, you tried to hit your clit with the thumb of the same hand you fucked yourself on but you couldn’t.

For a second you almost gave up and asked him to help you come- add a finger- anything. But he got you there before you could even get out a word or a pleading moan. Oberyn’s praises came again and he practically begged you to come for him. “Come for me so I can make you come again and again. Let me prove that I missed you... Come so I can fuck you so good you forget the entire world--”

Your climax came out with a choked sob and in a white hot flash that drained all the feelings in your body. All of you went limp but your chest heaved in the air. The bliss was incredible and well-earned but there was so much more to be had.

With the little energy you could muster, you beckoned to him with the same fingers you pulled from yourself. They were still glossy with your slick but barely had the chance to cool in the air as Oberyn’s lips quickly latched around your fingers. His tongue swirled to devour your spend and hungry hands roamed over your tired thighs that trembled in the aftershock.

Kissing your knuckles once he had licked you clean, he moved the same hand to the crown of his head and encouraged you to grab hold. He gave your other hand the same treatment before he moved his lips over your thighs, massaging the tension from them with the pads of his fingers. “My turn.” he mumbled into your skin.

By the time Oberyn had proved himself better than your fingers, the sky was beginning to turn purple with dawn. When he had found you that day it had been just after 10pm.

Somehow, though, whether due to miraculous pacing or because neither of you had so recently exerted yourselves, you and Oberyn were still wide awake. He emerged from between your thighs again- this time without a heavy pant or a shiny chin- with a washcloth in his hand. Coming up to sit back fully on his knees, he unashamedly looked you over.

The purple romper had been folded down around your waist and you were sure one of the straps were broken from the force it had been yanked down with. He smirked proudly at the number of hickies he had left all over your skin as many of them would be seen regardless of what you wore. “You look good.” he said.

Oberyn was quite a sight himself. When he removed himself from the bed to return the cloth to his ensuite, you admired the way his skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat. His hair stuck out in every direction and before he disappeared behind the doorway, he rolled his shoulders and neck with a happy groan. You called out to him, “You make me look good.” Then, put off by the feeling of the lace against you, you kicked off the romper fully and stretched back out on the bed.

He replied, “I don’t agree with a single word of that, baby.”

When he came back into the room, you couldn’t help but admire the almost comical way in which he had shrugged on his favorite robe but not bothered with affording himself any more modesty in it than he had completely naked. You took the opportunity to ogle him openly, proud of the marks you had left on him and he wasted little time in crossing the room again to rejoin you on the bed. When he had gotten comfortable situated between your legs, this time on his back, with his head resting on your stomach and arms slung over your thighs, Oberyn looked up at you fondly. “I do think I proved myself though.”

“To who?”

That smug smile returned, “Well, to you.” Then he looked to think on it for a moment, pondering as his fingers drew half-thought images across the skin of your thigh. “Proved that I’m still good enough for you.”

You didn’t even bother to hold back from rolling your eyes. “You know that’s ridiculous, Oberyn.”

Oberyn nodded, warm eyes drooping before closing softly. “Mmhmm” he hummed.

It settled like that for a while. You stroked his hair, drawing more relaxed hums from him while a question started bubbling up in your mind.

You pushed it aside for a different one, “Why don’t we do something tomorrow?”

“Can’t, I’m afraid.” He sighed, “Doran wants me to come in first thing to review some clause in the trade documents with Lys- something about a weird shipment- it's all very complicated really. I’m sure he’ll find a way to keep me there longer too and spring more papers on me or something.” When he finished the silence started to sting. “I’m sorry, honey. You know I’d love to-”

You refused to let him get to the “but” in that sentence, “It’s okay--really! I mean we just did a lot… Maybe later in the week?”

Oberyn kissed your hand. He was visibly relieved of the tension diffusing between you.“You got it, honey.”

Oberyn left about an hour later, giving you a tender kiss on the forehead and the promise of “soon”. The warm spot beside you and the marks on you were the only tangible signs that Oberyn had even been there at all and you lamented the fact that they too would be quick to flee as the rest of him had.

You hated to pout but it was easy when your lover had barely spent a day with you before being snatched away again by something more important. Important, demanding or serious -any similar word- was more so because you were relatively less. You- unlike business or politics or events- could wait on his bed all day and night for his return.

Ultimatums weren’t known to be answered romantically every time. And you swore to yourself that you’d never force him to choose. Nevertheless, the seed of doubt had been planted and the casualness of your relationship with Oberyn nurtured it against your better judgement.

You stewed over these thoughts long into the morning, staring up at the canopy butt-naked.

He had told you something before he left for King’s Landing two months ago that you remembered suddenly. “... you are the reason I am going to rush back to Dorne.”, the unspoken idea there being that he would value your company above the general comfort of familiarity. You had almost told him then how you felt about him, but a nagging feeling had told you to hold it in and now you had to suffer under the weight of more doubts and insecurities.

Maybe if you had, he would have been able to clear up half of the doubts you were festering over- maybe he would have said he loved you too. It was a selfish thought but irresistible all the same and you were too quickly lulled into indulging in it.

#oberyn martell #prince oberyn #prince of dorne #oberyn au #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you #oberyn fanfic #pedro pascal #game of thrones au #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #asoiaf #modern!oberyn #ronnie's actual writing #ronnie's aus

[mrsjadecurtiss]

What do you think of Robert? What are your opinions on him, do you think that if the war never happened that he'd still go down this self destructive path?

I think Robert was fundamentally not made to be a king - He has the charisma and the looks and is an able warrior, but his negative character traits are indulged and enhanced by his position and led him down an almost unavoidable path.

Robert is someone who above all wants to enjoy and live an easy life:

"You need to come south," Robert told him. "You need a taste of summer before it flees. [...] Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich." He laughed and slapped his own ample stomach a thump. "And the girls, Ned!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "I swear, women lose all modesty in the heat.[...]" The king laughed happily. Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures. - Eddard I, aGoT

"Robert wanted smiles and cheers, always, so he went where he found them, to his friends and his whores. Robert wanted to be loved." - Sansa IV, aCoK

He has just enough of a moral understanding to at least know when he is doing wrong and to even feel bad about it at times, but not enough to actually change anything about himself.

The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. "I should not have hit [Cersei]. That was not … that was not kingly." He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. - Eddard X, aGoT

Robert desires to have an easy life, he wants to be loved, he wants to have fun, but he does not want to deal with the hard and unpleasant things. In times of crisis, he wants to take the easy way out, and he prefers to avoid uncomfortable truths.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. "[...] When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert's relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar's children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children." - Tyrion VI, aSoS

"Well, now I know Jaime's dark sin, and the matter can be forgotten. I am heartily sick of secrets and squabbles and matters of state, Ned." - Eddard II, aGoT

"Most likely the king did not know," Littlefinger said. "It would not be the first time. Our good Robert is practiced at closing his eyes to things he would rather not see." - Eddard IV, aGoT

He feels most comfortable when he is surrounded by people who love him and know how to handle him/want the best for him, and steer him onto the right path in a way where he can still feel good about himself.

"These are difficult times. I need good men about me. Men like Jon Arryn. He served as Lord of the Eyrie, as Warden of the East, as the Hand of the King. He will not be easy to replace." - Eddard I, aGoT

In an environment that works against him, or goes against his wishes even if it is for the better, it creates a destructive energy in him. He cannot stand dissent to his wishes because it robs him of a pleasure he desires, and creates unwanted conflict. He also cannot handle constructive criticism because it makes him confront unpleasant truths - he always wants the easiest path with the least tension. If he is presented with a situation that strains his limits as there is no amiable solution to a difficult/disturbing problem, his reaction is a toxic one; turning to rage and violence even towards his own child.

Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing here and why he had come. He was no Jon Arryn, to curb the wildness of his king and teach him wisdom. Robert would do what he pleased, as he always had, and nothing Ned could say or do would change that. - Eddard II, aGoT

He may act against what he knows is right, because it is the easiest route; like when he has the wolf Lady killed to please Cersei:

“A costly pelt,” Robert grumbled. “I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold.” [...] "We have a wolf," Cersei Lannister said. Her voice was very quiet, but her green eyes shone with triumph. It took them all a moment to comprehend her words, but when they did, the king shrugged irritably. "As you will. Have Ser Ilyn see to it." - “Robert, you cannot mean this,” Ned protested. The king was in no mood for more argument. “Enough, Ned, I will hear no more." - Eddard III, aGoT

"I am sorry for your girl, Ned. Truly. About the wolf, I mean. My son was lying, I'd stake my soul on it." - Eddard VII, aGoT

And when Ned reprimands him about Daenerys he will not hear dissent, even though he knows deep down that it is wrong:

He gave the king a long cool look. “Would [the man who spared Barristan] were here today.” Robert had shame enough to blush. “It was not the same,” he complained. “Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard.” - “Whereas Daenerys is a fourteen-year-old girl.”

[...] “Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?” - “No, Your Grace,” Ned replied. “Have you?” - “Enough!” the king bellowed. “I am sick of talk. I’ll be done with this, or be damned."

[...] “I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to  it.” For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. [...] “You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I’ll find me a Hand who will.” - “I wish him every success.” Ned [...] laid [his badge of office] on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. “I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.” Robert’s face was purple. “Out,” he croaked, choking on his rage. “[...] Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I’ll have your head on a spike!” - Eddard VIII, aGoT

“Gods have mercy,” he muttered, swallowing his agony. “The girl. Daenerys. Only a child, you were right . . . that’s why, the girl . . . the gods sent the boar . . . sent to punish me . . .” - Eddard XIII, aGoT

Robert is a man who always wants it easy, he wants his demands to always be fulfilled, to be loved and have fun without dealing with the bad things; but an important theme that is repeated over and over in asoiaf is that you can only act good if you are willing to face the bad that may come with it, and if you cannot live with the consequences, your action might not be justified.*

Bran thought about it. "Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?" - "That is the only time a man can be brave." - Bran I, aGoT

"Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice." - Davos VI, aSoS

"The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die." - Bran I, aGoT

Ned stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansa's grasp. All the weariness of the past four days had returned to him. "Do it yourself then, Robert," he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. "At least have the courage to do it yourself." - Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead. Silence filled the hall. - Eddard III, aGoT

This is why putting him on the throne was poison - all the power in the world, and noone who would dare go against his wishes. It indulges all of Robert's worst traits, and buries anything he had inside him that was salvageable.

Ser Barristan Selmy spoke up. "Your Grace," he said, "it is not seemly that the king should ride into the melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?" - "Ser Barristan is right. There's not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would dare risk your displeasure by hurting you." - Eddard VII, aGoT

I am surrounded by flatterers and fools, the king had insisted. Ned looked down the council table and wondered which were the flatterers and which the fools. He thought he knew already. - Eddard IV, aGoT

And Robert knows it - he knows being a king isn't for him, that he doesn't enjoy the actual work that goes into governing, that he doesn't have the personality for such politics or to deal with the people involved, and that he would much rather spend his time enjoying life and doing what he loves...

"Look at what kinging has done to me. Gods, too fat for my armor, how did it ever come to this? [...] I swear to you, I was never so alive as when I was winning this throne, or so dead as now that I’ve won it." - Eddard VII, aGoT

"I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one. Laws are a tedious business and counting coppers is worse. And the people … there is no end of them. I sit on that damnable iron chair and listen to them complain until my mind is numb and my ass is raw. They all want something, money or land or justice. The lies they tell … and my lords and ladies are no better. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools. It can drive a man to madness, Ned. Half of them don't dare tell me the truth, and the other half can't find it. There are nights I wish we had lost at the Trident. Ah, no, not truly, but …" - Eddard I, aGoT

Robert groaned with good-humored impatience. "If I wanted to honor you, I'd let you retire. I am planning to make you run the kingdom and fight the wars while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave." - Eddard I, aGoT

"Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that's what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me." - Eddard VII, aGoT

And yet he doesn't do anything about it and keeps staying at the position he hates - he does not want to deal with the uncomfortable consequences that would come with upsetting the status quo, or making changes to his own personality and going through growth, or confronting ugly truths about himself in a productive way, etc etc.

He does make a talk of changes at times during aGoT, and seems to have a sense of responsibility about his Job, but as it is his desire for changes came too late, and what responsibility he felt mostly served to paralyze him in place.

"The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?" - Eddard VII, aGoT

"I'm still young, and now that you're here with me, things will be different. We'll make this a reign to sing of, and damn the Lannisters to seven hells." - Eddard VII, aGoT

In a way Joffrey is to Robert what Ramsay is to Roose: an exploration of the inherent flaw in their way of life, demonstrated in the most extreme case. In Joffrey's case, it shows what happens to give someone unlimited power with noone daring to oppose them.

Do you think that if the war never happened that he'd still go down this self destructive path?

It's a little unclear which war you mean, so I will briefly touch on several points:

There could have been ideal circumstances where he might have worked out as a king, if he was surrounded by people who know the perfect way to deal with him and make him work past his flaws (intuitively doing the work of a modern therapist), but the average life is not ideal and grrm shows the realistic fate of a man like Robert.

I think by the time Ned arrived it was sadly too late to change - maybe if the Lannisters didn't exist, or this or that event hadn't happened, but Grrm shows that most of what lead to Robert's downfall was in the end caused by himself. Cersei kills him because she came to despise the man he was, and for good reason as he abused her during all her marriage - and while he has some scenes of feeling bad or even apologizing for it, he never made any attempts to actually change the terrible way he was treating her.

If Robert's Rebellion never happened, he would have probably made an able enough Lord of Storm's End; delegating his "boring" administrative duties to his advisors and maester, enjoying the privileges of highborn life, and having just enough responsibility to feel like the alpha male of his society yet not enough to do as lasting damage as he did for the throne. He would not have been the best Lord, but sadly there are many worse in Westeros, since the entire dynastic ruling system is inherently flawed. If he would have been a better person depends on who he is surrounded with, if circumstances would have motivated him to change, or if perhaps his position of power and outward influences would still just have indulged him into the man he was in aGoT. Ultimately, there are a lot of butterfly effects leading to different results that i’m sure have been explored in many fics.

"Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature." - Eddard IX, aGoT

This was the boy he had grown up with, he thought; this was the Robert Baratheon he'd known and loved. If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the attack on Bran, prove that they had murdered Jon Arryn, this man would listen. Then Cersei would fall, and the Kingslayer with her, and if Lord Tywin dared to rouse the west, Robert would smash him as he had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He could see it all so clearly. - Eddard VII, aGoT    

What do you think of Robert?

Since i am someone who frequently enjoys morally grey and villainous characters, despite his many negative traits i have a fondness of Robert; I think he is an interesting character and very human in his flaws, and there is a lot of melancholy to his story that makes me somber about him even if it obviously does not excuse his bad actions. I also think he has a great character design that's fun to draw and some fun boisterous scenes, and some of his positive qualities remind me of people i know.

*Stannis is an interesting character as Robert’s brother, as he is the opposite to him in this regard, as well as in many aspects of their personality and even their outward presentation (like how Stannis crops his beard short to contrast Robert’s wild one)

#asoiaf #robert baratheon #asoiaf meta #my posts #asks #anonymous #of course this is not an extensive analysis and there are more facettes to his character #these are the ones i focused on for this ask as they came to my mind when i reread his scenes #he kinda reminds me of roose in places lol might be why it inspired me to analyze him #Anonymous

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

Bran Stark's Journey

Today I've decided to talk about Bran. He may not be the most beloved character, or the most exciting, but to me at least, he is a very interesting character and his path is very interesting. One revelation the show gave us (that was later confirmed) is that by the end of ASOIAF, he will be King. So today I wanted to talk about his arc, possible paths to kingship, and also about his abilities and what he might be able to do in the future.

Summer to Winter

A large theme in Bran's story is fear. In his first chapter (the first chapter in the entire series, not counting the prologue), Bran asks if a man can be brave when he is afraid, after Jon and Robb argue about the deserter's death, to which ned famously replies "that is the only time a man can be afraid". Later, during his coma dream, he becomes afraid to look down as he falls, crying, until the three eyed crow convinces him to look down at the world below him, and into the heart of winter.

Now you know, the crow whispered as it sat on his shoulder. Now you know why you must live. "Why?" Bran said, not understanding, falling, falling. Because winter is coming.

Upon waking from that dream, Bran wakes up and names his wolf Summer. Later, Bran listens to a story about the Long Night from Old Nan, telling her that his favourite stories are the scary ones. The dream has is rich in symbolic visions, but I think the most important take away from both that and the story Old Nan tells him is that Bran will need to overcome fear and take on the monsters and villains of those scary stories to help end the Long Night. His direwolf's name Summer also fits with this.

A literal summer child, Bran has never experienced winter and the horrors that come with it. Soon he begins to live out the stories he was told, traveling beyond the Wall in search of the elusive three eyed crow, dealing with wights along the way. In a way, the story of the last hero does work as foreshadowing for Bran's journey to the far north. When he joins Bloodraven, he is given advice for the future, that once again touches upon the theme of fear.

"Never fear the darkness, Bran." The lord's words were accompanied by a faint rustling of wood and leaf, a slight twisting of his head. "The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother's milk. Darkness will make you strong."

Bloodraven is a man who has a very storied past, acting as Hand to several Targaryen kings, being an effective administrator (although he had some flaws when it came to dealing with the Blackfyres), and eventually rising to the level of Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He sometimes did have to do dark things for the greater good, and he's teaching that same principle to Bran. Of course, going back to the theme of fear, he is also telling Bran to overcome his fear in order to do things that will help the world around him.

That is where we end with Bran as of ADWD, but thanks to both the show and GRRM, we have some idea of what happens with Bran next. One of the more shocking moments in Game of Thrones came in season 6 when it was revealed that Bran caused Hodor's disability in the first place by skinchanging him in the past, thus creating a time loop and sealing his fate as he holds the back door of the cave against the wights so he can escape. For Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon, a book about the production of the TV series by James Hibberd, GRRM expanded on what that meant and how it will play out in TWOW.

"It's an obscenity to go into somebody's mind. So Bran may be responsible for Hodor's simplicity, due to going into his mind so powerfully that it rippled back through time. The explanation of Bran's powers, the whole questions of time and causality - can we affect the past? Is time a river you can only sail one way or an ocean that can be affected wherever you drop into it? These are issues I want to explore in the book, but it's harder to explain in a show." Martin said the 'hold the door' scene in a forthcoming book will play out a bit differently than in the show. "I thought they executed it very well, but there are going to be differences in the book. They did it very physical - 'hold the door' with Hodor's strength. In the book, Hodor has stolen one of the old swords from the crypt. Bran has been warging into Hodor and practicing with his body, because Bran had been trained in swordplay. So telling Hodor to 'hold the door' is more like 'hold this pass' - defend it when enemies are coming - and Hodor is fighting and killing them. A little different, but same idea."

Varamyr's prologue in ADWD touches upon the various concepts of skinchanging, and how certain acts are considered abominations, including; eating the flesh of a person, mating in the skin of a beast, and entering another person's mind. While I don't necessarily think that Bran will commit the second one, it makes sense for there to be consequences for Bran's disregard for the rules. He may be only a child and not fully understand what is happening around him or how his actions effect his surroundings, but if he is becoming extremely powerful, he needs to learn to use it effectively while not becoming completely ignorant of how his actions effect people.

So, this as a consequence of his breaking of the rules of skinchanging makes perfect sense. What I think this isn't, however, is Bran becoming a villain, or Bran heading down a dark path that he won't come out of. If anything, this might actually have the opposite effect, and set him on a path to try to fix the sins he committed. Personally, I think that after this is when Bran will once again have doubts, this time in his ability to use his powers effectively. After all, he's a child, he's going to have strong emotions about this.

It makes perfect sense for him to suddenly fear his powers, realize what he's done, and try to reject that part of him out of fear of what he might do. But ultimately, it's part of a learning process, and something or someone will once again convince him to embrace his powers and use them for good, this time with his past mistakes now influencing better decision making. After that, he must face the true horrors of reality, the creatures from those nightmarish tales he loved hearing about, when the Long Night falls again. He must confront fear itself.

Greenseeing Powers

The show had Bran as someone who only used his powers to look far away and in the past, but greenseers in the books are much more than people sitting in a tree watching. They had all sorts of abilities, and Bran has demonstrated some of them. Others we learn from stories of the past. As a greenseer, Bran is a skinchanger, and an incredibly strong one at that, able to enter Hodor's mind on a whim. He can enter into ravens hundreds of miles south of the Wall, as demonstrated by the curious ravens cawing Theon's name in the TWOW sample chapter.

He can also enter and look through the weirwoods, and back at the past. Apparently, his seeing won't be restricted to the trees and eventually he can look even further without the need for them.

"Once you have mastered your gifts, you may look where you will and see what the trees have seen, be it yesterday or last year or a thousand ages past. Men live their lives trapped in an eternal present, between the mists of memory and the sea of shadow that is all we know of the days to come. Certain moths live their whole lives in a day, yet to them that little span of time must seem as long as years and decades do to us. An oak may live three hundred years, a redwood tree three thousand. A weirwood will live forever if left undisturbed. To them seasons pass in the flutter of a moth's wing, and past, present, and future are one. Nor will your sight be limited to your godswood. The singers carved eyes into their heart trees to awaken them, and those are the first eyes a new greenseer learns to use … but in time you will see well beyond the trees themselves."

And despite Bloodraven's insistence that Bran cannot change the past, it's very clear that is wrong. Bran speaks to Ned when he sees him and Ned visibly responds. Not to mention "hold the door" and going back in past Hodor's mind. Speaking of, Bran can seemingly communicate with the trees, and he has done so with Theon at the Winterfell godswood. First, during the night of the Pink Wedding, Theon hears something calling to him but finds nobody around. True, might be he's been driven psychotic by the torture at Ramsay's hands, but it becomes a bit more real later on.

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. "Theon," they seemed to whisper, "Theon." The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. "Please." He fell to his knees. "A sword, that's all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek." Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. "I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands." A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered, like a bloody hand. "… Bran," the tree murmured. They know. The gods know. They saw what I did. And for one strange moment it seemed as if it were Bran's face carved into the pale trunk of the weirwood, staring down at him with eyes red and wise and sad. Bran's ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm.

Bran also seems to have the ability to awaken others skinchanging powers, even when he was not entirely aware of it. Take the wolf dream Jon has while in the Frostfangs.

When he closed his eyes, he dreamed of direwolves. There were five of them when there should have been six, and they were scattered, each apart from the others. He felt a deep ache of emptiness, a sense of incompleteness. The forest was vast and cold, and they were so small, so lost. His brothers were out there somewhere, and his sister, but he had lost their scent. He sat on his haunches and lifted his head to the darkening sky, and his cry echoed through the forest, a long lonely mournful sound. As it died away, he pricked up his ears, listening for an answer, but the only sound was the sigh of blowing snow. Jon? The call came from behind him, softer than a whisper, but strong too. Can a shout be silent? He turned his head, searching for his brother, for a glimpse of a lean grey shape moving beneath the trees, but there was nothing, only . . . A weirwood. It seemed to sprout from solid rock, its pale roots twisting up from a myriad of fissures and hairline cracks. The tree was slender compared to other weirwoods he had seen, no more than a sapling, yet it was growing as he watched, its limbs thickening as they reached for the sky. Wary, he circled the smooth white trunk until he came to the face. Red eyes looked at him. Fierce eyes they were, yet glad to see him. The weirwood had his brother's face. Had his brother always had three eyes? Not always, came the silent shout. Not before the crow. He sniffed at the bark, smelled wolf and tree and boy, but behind that there were other scents, the rich brown smell of warm earth and the hard grey smell of stone and something else, something terrible. Death, he knew. He was smelling death. He cringed back, his hair bristling, and bared his fangs. Don't be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this. And the tree reached down and touched him. And suddenly he was back in the mountains, his paws sunk deep in a drift of snow as he stood upon the edge of a great precipice. Before him the Skirling Pass opened up into airy emptiness, and a long vee-shaped valley lay spread beneath him like a quilt, awash in all the colors of an autumn afternoon.

And we know that this was real because later...

Here in the chill damp darkness of the tomb his third eye had finally opened. He could reach Summer whenever he wanted, and once he had even touched Ghost and talked to Jon. Though maybe he had only dreamed that.

Nope, not a dream. That was real. It's almost scary to imagine how powerful he is if he awakened Jon's abilities unconsciously from so far away. Of course, greenseers can also have prophetic dreams of the future, in addition to visions of the past. Greenseers seem to have no limit on what animals they can enter, too.

"The greenseers were more than that. They were wargs as well, as you are, and the greatest of them could wear the skins of any beast that flies or swims or crawls, and could look through the eyes of the weirwoods as well, and see the truth that lies beneath the world."

The hunters among the children—their wood dancers—became their warriors as well, but for all their secret arts of tree and leaf, they could only slow the First Men in their advance. The greenseers employed their arts, and tales say that they could call the beasts of marsh, forest, and air to fight on their behalf: direwolves and monstrous snowbears, cave lions and eagles, mammoths and serpents, and more.

We must also talk about Coldhands, a very curious person indeed. He is a wight, but he can speak and do as he pleases himself, lacks the blue eyes of ice wights, and has lots of ravens following him. Personally, I believe Coldhands was one a member of the Raven's Teeth, Bloodraven's personal escort who joined him on the Wall. Is Bloodraven now using the body of a dead man for his own purposes? Is he skinchanging into a corpse and it's actually Bloodraven speaking through him?

We don't exactly know how the Others are controlling the wights, but it makes sense for them to be in some way related to skinchangers and greenseers. if that is the case, does that mean greenseers hold this power too, albeit in a different way? There is also this interesting tidbit from Asha.

She thought back to a tale she had heard as a child, about the children of the forest and their battles with the First Men, when the greenseers turned the trees to warriors.

The trees to warriors? Who knows what that means. Although I think it is time to consider exactly how the use of greenseeing and weirwoods could effect Bran. Unlike most gods, it seems the old gods are indeed real... but they aren't exactly literal gods.

"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies," said Jojen. "The man who never reads lives only one. The singers of the forest had no books. No ink, no parchment, no written language. Instead they had the trees, and the weirwoods above all. When they died, they went into the wood, into leaf and limb and root, and the trees remembered. All their songs and spells, their histories and prayers, everything they knew about this world. Maesters will tell you that the weirwoods are sacred to the old gods. The singers believe they are the old gods. When singers die they become part of that godhood."

Bloodraven doesn't seem to be entirely all there at the end either. We know there is a consequence of skinchanging too much, becoming more beast than man. Entering the weirwoods could have its own unique, but similar effect. The more you enter, the more you might mingle with the spirits inside the trees.

Let's look back at an early novella GRRM wrote, called A Song for Lya. In the novella, two telepaths, Robb and Lyanna (yup) travel to the planet of Shkea and learn about the inhabitant aliens, the Shkeen, worshipping a giant parasite called the Greeshka, which is an amalgamation of different peoples consciousnesses mixed together as some sort of afterlife.

Robb and Lyanna are a couple, and despite their telepathy allowing them to be closer to one another, Lyanna still feels lonely. When contacting the minds within the Greeshka, she learns that many people have found their loneliness vanished upon joining the Greeshka. After a fight with Robb, Lyanna allows herself to be consumed by the Greeshka before contacting Robb as he dreams and telling him to join her, only for him to reject.

There are quite a bit of similarities between this and how the weirwood afterlife functions. While the thematics of the two stories are rather different, Bran is a telepath, and he is entering into what is essentially the afterlife with many different consciousnesses inside of it. The idea that he becomes a little less Bran and a little more absorbed into this afterlife hivemind makes sense, although I don't think that we will see it quite the same way the show portrayed.

King Bran the Rebuilder

"Archmaester Rigney once wrote that history is a wheel, for the nature of man is fundamentally unchanging. What has happened before will perforce happen again, he said."

ASOIAF has a lot of events in the main series that parallel those in-world historical events, and those historical events might even be foreshadowing for the future. So it might not come as big of a surprise that Bran becoming king at the end sort of acts as a parallel to Bran the Builder. Bran the Builder was supposedly the first Stark King of Winter who emerged after the Long Night, built the Wall, Winterfell, and supposedly Storm's End and the Hightower. Likewise, Bran is the first new king emerging after the Long Night, and given how broken the realm will be at the end of the series, it will be his prerogative to try to rebuild it and make it function again. So, Bran the Rebuilder.

But again, the circumstances are a bit different. Bran the Builder became a King of Winter, but apparently Bran is going to end up as King of Westeros. Isaac Hempstead-Wright said:

"David and Dan told me there were two things George R.R. Martin had planned for Bran, and that was the Hodor revelation, and that he would be king."

And in Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon, GRRM says:

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: It wasn’t easy for me. I didn’t want to give away my books. It’s not easy to talk about the end of my books. Every character has a different end. I told them who would be on the Iron Throne, and I told them some big twists like Hodor and “hold the door,” and Stannis’s decision to burn his daughter. We didn’t get to everybody by any means. Especially the minor characters, who may have very different endings.

This does come as quite a shock, and it is admittedly difficult to see how this will happen. However, while the show was extremely disappointing, I am willing to give GRRM a chance to show us how we get there. Narratively, it does make a certain amount of sense, since Bran was the first character George created and the first POV character whose chapter we get, so for it to end with him is a good circle.

Thematically, I think there is a certain view of why this ending for Bran fits. For starters, I don't think magic is going to go away like a lot of people predict, but come to stay. In contrast to the way The Lord of Rings ended, King Bran seems to suggest some sort of more magical world. Not to say it will be super high fantasy, but magic will be more common. A magical kingdom, a magical king. What better way to usher in a new era in Westeros?

Bran also has a deep connection to the weirwoods. If the First Men cutting down the weirwoods was a metaphor for humanity's current destruction of the environment and climate, then Bran being king might be a metaphor for humanity coexisting with nature. Admittedly, I'm not saying that is 100% what King Bran means, I'm mainly just suggesting ideas on what it could mean, given we have no real context behind it other than what were were told and the last two books have yet to be released.

I dislike the reading that Bran as king is dystopian and that he would be enforcing a "police state" and that only a "god-king" could be a good leader. Or even further, that Dany and Bran's endings mean "revolution bad, big brother king good". Disregarding what Dany's ending means being, in my opinion, irrelevant to her status as a revolutionary, these takes always presume that King Bran has to be one way and has to be evil. That Bran having such immense power means that it's going to be the worst case scenario. Why can't it be more hopeful? The series isn't ending nihilistically, it's ending bittersweet.

Bran can look into the past, he could learn about the past mistakes people have made, and learn from it to make better decisions in the future. Sure, he could spy on people far away, but I don't think it's really Big Brother-esque. When you live in a world not so technologically advanced, it might help to learn info from far away much quicker.

That said, how Bran's ascension occurs is a mystery. The show hand-waved it away as just "he has a good story and that will unite people", which is... weak to say the least. Also there is the fact that he is effectively proof of the old gods, and a wizard with immense powers, which might alienate people in the south, or just outright scare people because he's capable of so much and they don't understand and find it scary. He's also going to be a kid, and he has no claim to the Iron Throne.

I will end this post with some suggestions for how this could happen. Nothing concrete, but some ideas of how we might get there. For starters, Bran has to amount to something, unlike the show. He did practically nothing but act as bait. But GRRM is not shy about showing magic, so the magical components of his story are definitely going to play a larger role. Since there is set up for it, Bran having a large role in ending the Long Night could indeed make him a hero of sorts to people, and make him be respected. As a disabled person in a very ableist society, people won't inherently trust or like him.

It's also possible that if Daenerys ends up dead and Jon is exiled, that through some technicality, Bran could be viewed as a sort of heir. Jon is both Targaryen and Stark. With the other Targaryens all but gone, the closest relatives to the final living Targaryen being Starks might give Bran a chance to be selected as king. We could also see Sansa or someone else trying to maneuver events politically to help Bran gain the throne, especially if she sees him as the best option for Westeros in the long run. A Great Council being called makes sense too (not the laughable "council" in the show).

But these are all just ideas I'm throwing at a wall. It's important to keep in mind that a lot of what I'm proposing is mainly just my own interpretation of the text. I'm flawed, I might not always make sense. It doesn't help that we don't have the last two books yet, and the show was a badly pasted together cliff-notes version, so we are left in the dark about a lot.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #bran stark #the winds of winter predictions #a dream of spring predictions #king bran

[weirwoodking]

I am once again asking you to discuss Irish mythology asoiaf with me... please your grace, I am a simple woman with simple needs

Okay one of the rabbit holes that I love going down and over-thinking about is ASOIAF’s take on the otherworld. While the concept of an otherworld appears in many Indo-European mythologies, GRRM draws the most influence from Celtic myths. I think most people know about how GRRM said that the Others are inspired by the aos sí (aka the sídhe), a supernatural race that lives in the Gaelic Otherworld. The aos sí are also connected to the changeling myths, changelings being babies that were taken by these magical folk and replaced with something else (see the similarity with how Craster’s sons are taken by the Others). This stealing of the babies was usually punishment for trespassing or committing some other offense. A large part of the aos sí mythos involve them being extremely territorial, only becoming aggressive when someone invades their home. This characteristic of the aos sí has inspired the theory that the reason that the Others in ASOIAF are angry is because some sort of transgression was committed against them. I don’t think that the Others are a one-to-one for the aos sí, but GRRM could certainly take the territorial characteristics of those mythological creatures and use it as influence for the Others. The main similarity that is confirmed between the two is just that the Others are supposed to have the same sort of haunting beauty.

So, back to the otherworld. An element of otherworld myths is that it exists alongside the edge of our world, which reminds me a lot of how the Wall is described as the “end/edge of the world”. There’s also a recurring theme in otherworld stories of an otherworldly woman beckoning heroes toward her, which sounds very similar to the tale of Night’s King and the corpse queen. Speaking of heroes that enter the otherworld, one such story is the Irish tale of the Voyage of Bran (different Bran than the Welsh Brân the Blessed), in which a man named Bran embarks on a quest to Emain (one of the names of the Irishh otherworld), which is a place of lasting spring and summer. Another story of a journey to an otherworld is the Welsh tale of Branwen, the sister to Brân the Blessed, who travels to Annwn, and finds the survivors of a great battle as well as the severed head of her brother. Most otherworlds are typically characterized by being bountiful and paradise-like places, very different from what we would expect a place called the Land of Always Winter to be like. However, the concept of a magical realm existing alongside the non magical realm is still there with the LOAW.

What also interests me is how the otherworld in Athurian legend, Avalon, was the title of the book that GRRM was working on when he came up with the idea for ASOIAF. Avalon was going to take place in GRRM’s Thousand Worlds series, and I wonder if it was also going going to contain otherworld elements. Elements that GRRM then transferred over to ASOIAF.

Anyway, this is ramble-y, I just think otherworld mythology and its influence in ASOIAF is really neat. Especially since there are a lot of Brans in these stories (and I didn’t mention it, but spiritual trees are also common in otherworld myths too). Considering GRRM has said that the final two books with take us “farther north than we’ve ever been before” (the furthest place north we’ve been is the Frostfangs), I’m pretty sure we’re going to see the “Other”world in TWOW and/or ADOS, and I can’t wait to see his take on it.

#speaking of mythology influences in asoiaf. one day i gotta talk about jon snow odin symbolism #asoiaf #land of always winter #ask #leftenantjopson

[lauwrite1225]

Please, let him grow. - Finan x OC

A/N : I saw this few lines from ASOIAF, and god I needed to use it as a prompt. So as always Finan and Saegyth this time for a small drabble focused on their second son.

Word Count : 981

Warning : None

Saegyth had never liked to watch Finan leave for war. She never really got used to it, the taste of kisses that could be their last before he climbed on his horse. It always made this worry grow in her bones, aching constantly and invading her thoughts when she wasn’t busy. She kept wondering what he was doing, was he on the camp lighting a fire or already on the battlefield, shoulder to shoulder with Uhtred and Sihtric. She tried to avoid the most terrifying thoughts, leaving them to her worst nightmares.

For a long time, she hoped she wouldn’t have to feel the same worry for her children. She first saw Finan teach Edwen the rudiments of fights, but their oldest daughter saw in it no more than a game and never wished to particularly use her skills. It reassured Saegyth, her daughter knew how to defend herself but wouldn’t play with death more than necessary. Then, she saw Faolan and she immediately knew he wouldn’t be a warrior. Faolan was a dreamer, he was curious about the world and never found fighting entertaining. He learned though, because even the men without any fighting ambitions had to go to war for their Kings when they asked and Finan wouldn’t leave this world without making sure his sons were ready for war.

She started to worry the first day she saw Ailwin staring at his father and his brothers in arms when they were practicing. He was only seven and she could see the amazement in his eyes as he studied every move the men made. Somehow, she should have known it before, Ailwin was so much like Finan except for the blond locks covering his head. He had the same grin and eyes betraying his mischief too easily. He was always walking around Coccham with his father, curious about his job as Commander of Lord Uhtred’s household guard. Finan never minded, he was more than proud to teach his son how to be a warrior and to see that he enjoyed it.

Ailwin started his training at the same time as Aethelstan, the young prince Lord Uhtred was now in charge of. The boy was older than Ailwin, over two years, and yet Ailwin always managed to beat him. Ailwin had never been the most patient, he was reckless and was acting before thinking, but with a sword in hand, it was another boy than her son Saegyth was seeing. He was watchfull, his movements precise and thought so that he could break into his opponents’ guard. He was born to be a warrior and she would never be able to hold him back when battle would call for him.

And one day war called for him, and she had to stand by the gates and kiss him goodbye. Ailwin was fifteen, a tall boy, not yet taller than his father, but she guessed that in a few years he would. He had known blood and death already, following Lord Uhtred and his men into small fights against raiders, but Saegyth knew too well it was nothing like a shield wall.

She watched him from afar talk and laugh with his friends as they prepared their horses with a nostalgic smile, wishing he was still the small boy with curly blond hair she had seen make his first steps barefoot in the grass by the river to reach his father’s arms. She closed her eyes, he was still so young but he was already wearing his leather armor proudly, his sword hanging at his belt as he walked toward her.

Let him grow taller. She asked God, her fingers touching her cross. Let him know sixteen, and twenty, and fifty. Let him grow as tall as his father, and hold his own son in his arms. Please, please, please.

“I can see you worry from far away, Mother.” Her son said as he stopped in front of her.

She opened her eyes and had to look up slightly to cross his dark eyes. He wasn’t a boy anymore, his childish features disappearing day by day. But he wasn’t yet a man either. “I am your mother, I will always worry for you.” She reminded him before pulling him in her arms, his chuckle despite the tone of his voice now lower, still the same since he was a child.

She held him tightly, kissing his cheek as tears started to appear in her eyes. When Ailwin moved back, he wasn’t as enthusiastic as before, his brows furrowed and his shoulders tensed. Saegyth felt suddenly bad to have passed him her worries and she immediately wiped her tears.

“I am proud of you.” She told him, cupping his face and her thumbs rubbing his cheeks until a smile appeared on his face again. “And I love you very much.”

“I love you too, Mother.” He grinned and he laughed when she had to raise on her toes to kiss his forehead.

She let him go and she tried not to think of the day her own father came back from war without her oldest brother and how her mother had been devastated by the loss of her child. An arm came to wrap around her shoulders, she leaned into Finan’s side and he tugged her head under his chin, his fingers brushing her hair.

“He’ll be in the back line, mo ghrá. He’ll be fine.” He assured her and she nodded silently.

“You better bring your son in one piece.” She warned him, moving back to cross his gaze.

“So now ya don’t worry for me anymore?” Finan asked, pretending to be offended.

Saegyth rolled her eyes before softly smiling at him. “Of course I worry for you, my love.” Her hand reached for his face, her fingers brushing his greying beard as she pulled him down to kiss him. “Always.”

@morosemagick @solinarimoon @magravenwrites @emilyhufflepufftlk

#finan x oc #finan the agile #finan x saegyth #drabble #the last kingdom #someone to stay #saegyth #finan

[alicenttully]

Sansa and Motherhood

I remember reading someone’s meta on how (book) Sansa doesn’t possesses a natural instinct for motherhood.

Before I discuss my thoughts, I just want to clarify several things-

I think it’s perfectly fine if people don’t think Sansa is naturally maternal. She shouldn’t have to be. In a perfect world, she and Arya and Bran and Rickon would still have their own mother. But I do think there are flaws in the post, and I want to share my thoughts. 

The first argument used is that Sansa only ever wanted children was because it was part of a fantasy - of marrying a handsome lord and being his lady. 

First off, I think the fandom needs to let go of this word fantasy when it comes to Sansa.  It isn’t fantasy when you have been taught all your life that this is the future you should except. Sansa, as soon as she would have been able to comprehend this, knew this fact- that her father would arrange her betrothal and that she, like Arya, would be excepted to marry one day.  Sansa isn’t a little girl in modern day 2020 dreaming of her future marriage- for Sansa in ASOIAF/GOT, it is a responsibility that she owes to her family and to her House. I’m mentioning this because I think it’s important to remember this when understanding Sansa as a character.

But that being said, Sansa is also only 11-13 years old.  And yes, while there is an argument that Sansa only wants children because it is part of a fantasy- couldn’t you also apply that argument to every other little girl that dreams of having children?  When I was younger than Sansa, I wanted eight children. I had names all picked out.  Now like Sansa who dreamed of having children with Joff,  having eight children is the last thing I want.  Do such fantasies mean I lack a natural instinct for motherhood like Sansa because they are just that- fantasies-  or is it more complicated than that?

It’s more complicated than that.

The thing is - for every person who dreams of having children- that is all they have at first, fantasy.  Fantasy is very different from reality.  But just because fantasy is all they have at first- does not necessarily mean they don’t truly want children or want to be parent, if that makes sense. 

Furthermore, the next time we do see Sansa dreaming of having children, it’s very explicitly tied towards the love of her family- 

In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

Arguably, Sansa’s longing to have children stems not from “superficial desires” but from a desire to rebuild. 

The second argument used involves the relationship with Sansa and SR.  This passage is used-

It was more than Sansa could stand. "Robert, stop that." Instead he swung the doll again, and a foot of wall exploded. She grabbed for his hand but she caught the doll instead. There was a loud ripping sound as the thin cloth tore. Suddenly she had the doll's head, Robert had the legs and body, and the rag-and-sawdust stuffing was spilling in the snow. 

However,  the argument falls flat as it fails to take into account the passage that precedes it -

Sansa tried to step back, but he pulled her into his arms and suddenly he was kissing her. Feebly, she tried to squirm, but only succeeded in pressing herself more tightly against him. His mouth was on hers, swallowing her words. He tasted of mint. For half a heartbeat she yielded to his kiss . . . before she turned her face away and wrenched free. "What are you doing?"Petyr straightened his cloak. "Kissing a snow maid.""You're supposed to kiss her." Sansa glanced up at Lysa's balcony, but it was empty now. "Your lady wife."

....

"Might have been," he admitted, with a rueful smile. "But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was when she was your age.""Petyr, please." Her voice sounded so weak. "Please . . .""A castle!"

Before SR comes upon them, Petyr sexually assaults Sansa - who is meant to be his step-niece.  We cannot forget the power that LF has over Sansa here. She does not want him, but she cannot act against him here- her words are “swallowed”  - her power to say no is taken from her. Consequentially, this passage is important to the context of the first. When Sansa is telling SR to “stop”, remember how she also tried to tell Littlefinger no. Neither LF nor SR listens. And while for SR it is innocent, childish behaviour,  he is also another person who is refusing to respect Sansa’s space- (think of Winterfell as a metaphor for Sansa’s space) and that is what Sansa cannot stand.  That scene is not necessarily a commentary on how Sansa does or does not have the natural instincts of a mother, or does not want the reality of raising children - it is more complicated than that. 

The argument then goes on to say that Sansa puts her concerns above SR’s health.

However,  I feel like whenever that passage is used people are kind of forgetting something important - it’s not that Sansa doesn’t care for SR- but she also does kind of have pretty large concerns to deal with as well? Like the fact that she must maintain her Alayne persona because Cersei wants her head or the closest thing that she has to a protector- the same person who lusts after her and has made that clear- has forced her into a position where she must lie about her aunt’s death? 

Furthermore, there’s also the fact that Sansa does want SR to be well-

Why not surround him with Winged Knights? She had thought one night after Sweetrobin had finally drifted off to sleep. His own Kingsguard, to keep him safe and make him brave.

Why would Sansa be interested in keeping SR safe and making him feel brave if she didn’t care about his health?

Furthermore,  when discussing Sansa and SR I think it’s important to remember something very important when discussing Sansa as a potential mother-

SR is not her child. 

Yes,  she is a maternal figure to him,  but he is not her child. He’s her cousin, and an annoying one at that.  And for some women, they don’t feel that maternal instinct with other children,  but they feel it with their own. And that could very well be the case for Sansa. It’s impossible to tell, because we haven’t seen Sansa with a child of her own.  

Finally,  another important thing to remember when discussing motherhood - is that when you have a kid for the first time, motherhood is something that can be learned as it is instinctual. Again, this is something that can apply to Sansa. The idea of the mother’s instinct can be harmful because it can alienate women - a woman who has given birth may feel there is something wrong with her because she does not instinctively know how to care for her baby, and is thus one of the contributing factors in PPD.   

So yeah, those are my thoughts. 

#sansa stark #sansa #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #got #a storm of swords #a feast for crows #littlefinger #sweetrobin #motherhood #grrm #edited

[butterflies-dragons]

Hey! There was a giant lemon cake with phallic image in alayne chapter. Do you think it some coincidence or it means something? Especially it's presented by petyr. Also Sansa and her enemies giving her lemoncakes give same vibes as Hansel&gretel story.

And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar.

For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out. Sweetrobin loved lemon cakes too, but only after she told him that they were her favorites. The cake had required every lemon in the Vale, but Petyr had promised that he would send to Dorne for more.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

Petyr Baelish is grooming Sansa, that’s the awful truth. And he has studied Sansa, he knows what she likes/wants and he will use that knowledge in his favor.

He knows she had a distant relationship with Ned, so he becomes Alayne’s father.

He knows that Ned neglected her and that she always craved for her father’s validation, so he gives her that, he praised her wits for example, and called her clever and smart. 

If Sansa says something like “I can’t” or “I don’t know”, he is there to encourage and support and tell her “you can do it” & “you know it”.  

He knows she loves knights and tourneys, so he allows her to organize a tournament, whose winners will belong to a kind of “Kingsguard” for Sweetrobin, based on the child’s favorite hero of the legends: The Winged Knight, Ser Artys Arryn.

He knows she loves lemon cakes, so he gives her a giant lemon cake.    

The Tyrells has used the same strategy:

"Sansa," Lady Alerie broke in, "you must be very hungry. Shall we have a bite of boar together, and some lemon cakes?"

"Lemon cakes are my favorite," Sansa admitted.

"So we have been told," declared Lady Olenna, who obviously had no intention of being hushed. "That Varys creature seemed to think we should be grateful for the information. I've never been quite sure what the point of a eunuch is, if truth be told. It seems to me they're only men with the useful bits cut off. Alerie, will you have them bring the food, or do you mean to starve me to death? Here, Sansa, sit here next to me, I'm much less boring than these others. I hope that you're fond of fools."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

We all know how much Sansa loves her lemon cakes, but the Tyrells and Littlefinger really treat her as if she were a child like Sweetrobin:

"Will they be lemon cakes?" Lord Robert loved lemon cakes, perhaps because Alayne did.

"Lemony lemony lemon cakes," she assured him, "and you can have as many as you like."

"A hundred?" he wanted to know. "Could I have a hundred?"

"If it please you." She sat on the bed and smoothed his long, fine hair. He does have pretty hair. Lady Lysa had brushed it herself every night, and cut it when it wanted cutting. After she had fallen Robert had suffered terrible shaking fits whenever anyone came near him with a blade, so Petyr had commanded that his hair be allowed to grow. Alayne wound a lock around her finger, and said, "Now, will you get out of bed and let us dress you?"

"I want a hundred lemon cakes and five tales!"

I'd like to give you a hundred spankings and five slaps. You would not dare behave like this if Petyr were here. The little lord had a good healthy fear of his stepfather. Alayne forced a smile. "As my lord desires. But nothing till you're washed and dressed and on your way. Come, before the morning's gone." She took him firmly by the hand, and drew him out of bed.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

The lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance

The Giant's Lance is the tallest peak of the Mountains of the Moon within the Vale of Arryn, extending three and a half miles above the the valley below.

The great-grandfather of Petyr Baelish was a Braavosi sellsword that came into the Vale of Arryn at the service of Lord Corbray. His line was continued by his son, who became a hedge knight and took the head of the Titan of Braavos as his sigil.

As I mentioned in this post, a sword, Ice in particular, works as a phallic symbol in Sansa’s chapters. 

So, we can also make this association:

The Titan of Braavos = A Giant

The Giant’s Lance = Tallest Peak

Lance & Peak = phallic symbols 

Lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance = I don’t want to write it 

We can also say that Petyr Baelish is “compensating” his “shortfalls”, after all he is a short man called Littlefinger.  

Yes, I think this giant lemon cake could be seen as a phallic symbol and it makes sense with Littlefinger grooming her... yikes

¡¡¡SOMEONE SAVE HER PLEASE!!!   

My friend @lostlittlesatellites has already wrote about these subjects, giant lemon cake as phallic symbol and Hansel and Gretel story: 

I argued that lemon cakes in Sansa’s arc actually spell people trying to exploit Sansa’s weakness in an almost Hansel & Gretel way and a betrayal that follows.

“Interestingly Sansa’s first chapter in AGOT poses questions that will drive majority of her arc. Her desire for a courtly life in the South will not only prove to be hollow but worse a dream that turns into nightmare. Sansa asks two questions: “What could you want to see? It’s just fields and farms and holdfasts” and “Why would you want to ride a smelly old horse and get all sore and sweaty when you could recline on feather pillows and eat cakes with the queen?”

The world is larger than Sansa has been taught to believe, reclining more inward into her dreams with the strict regime that she taught to look away from the window. She doesn’t think she is prepared enough and that she needs more training. Yes, she doesn’t know enough but neither does Arya or Bran or Jon. Having Sansa finally leave her cage after completing her tutelage under Littlefinger is continuing that student-teacher dynamic she has had since Septa Mordane. People come to love the security of the cage they live in too long. This is why it takes so long to take out the fear of the outside from Sansa because the fact that she has barely any experience keeps her thinking she needs someone to rely on.

[…]

The “Feather pillows and cakes with the queen” part represents the glamour that attracts little boys and girls like Sansa. However, it is hollow as Sansa comes to realise about many things. In fact, people offering Sansa lemon cakes in Sansa’s storyline often forebodes a betrayal from the person offering it. Cersei offers her lemon cakes and a few chapters later she has Lady executed and even later, she has Ned arrested. Olenna offers Sansa lemon cakes, which Varys offers as valuable information to bring her guard down in order to lure her into her trap of marrying her to Wilas and getting hold of Winterfell and the North. They have her wear the murder weapon, which could implicate her for Joffrey’s murder even if their target is Tyrion. Littlefinger is offering her a 12 foot phallic shaped lemon cake in Sansa’s TWOW chapter. Given how happy Sansa is in this chapter that she is almost forgetting that she isn’t Alayne, the food is way too lavish when Winter is coming and along with this trend with lemon cakes, the clock is going to strike 12 and the illusion is going to break very soon. Soon Sansa will prefer riding those “smelly horses” and getting sweaty and sore in order to escape over those lemon cakes and feather beds offered by untrustworthy people. For Sansa’s arc to be fulfilling she has to experience the lives of small folk up close before she helps them. As a character whose view range is often myopic, she has to be put in the middle of the lives of the small folk to truly understand them.”

I highly recommend you to check @lostlittlesatellites blog, she’s a great ASOIAF meta writer, you can read more about these subjects here and here. She covered a lot of themes and symbolisms around Sansa in the Vale, some of them very disturbing regarding Littlefinger’s present and future actions against Sansa...   

But despite all that, since GRRM is a writer that likes to give different meanings to a same thing, there are also some very interesting details that are worthy to mention about the real Giant’s Lance:

So lovely. The snow-clad summit of the Giant's Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa's Tears fell in summer. A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well. 

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

The Winged Knight was Ser Artys Arryn. Legend said that he had driven the First Men from the Vale and flown to the top of the Giant's Lance on a huge falcon to slay the Griffin King.  

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

I can see strong dragon imagery here... 

I already wrote about how Sansa wishing falcon wings could be foreshadowing of her getting dragon wings.  

Here I also listed all the similarities between Jon and Sweetrobin.

But the most interesting detail is that the real Giant’s Lance is Stone covered by Ice/Snow. 

Sansa’s Vale arc has a lot of connections with Jon Snow, like this parallel that I called “Children of the Mountains”.

There is also the names of the waycastles Stone (Alayne) and Snow (Jon).

And one of my favorite Jon Snow reference in Sansa’s chapters, the ghost wolf, big as mountains:

All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

So, 

The Giant’s Lance is the tallest peak of the Mountains of the Moon.

The Giant’s Lance is Stone covered by Ice/Snow.

Sansa compared those mountains with a giant Ghost Wolf.  

I’m sorry Littlefinger, you can’t touch this girl!

Thanks for your message.

#anon ask #jonsa #alayne stone #lemon cakes

[wearebrokenintheend]

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Words: 4735 (I got caught up in this)

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, slow burn, strangers to lovers, age gap, reader is at least 20ish, also fluffy fluff 💕

+ Here’s the song I had on repeat while writing the smut. Just thought it would enhance the experience 💖

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was my parents’ annual Fourth of July party, where all of our family and close friends were invited to gather at our house for food, alcohol, and fun explosives. They began this tradition when I was small child, and never failed to make it more extravagant than the last. I grew up in such a patriotic household due to the fact that my father was a retired navy officer, and my mom was one of those people who will celebrate anything when she gets the chance. I was always encouraged to praise my country and heritage, especially on National holidays.

Of course, I loved celebrating with my family, and I loved our parties. The only thing that bothered me was how my parents would act during the parties. They’d drink all day and night and leave their worries behind, while I had to clean up and make sure that nothing bad happened to them or anyone else. I know that it’s good for everyone to just cut back and let loose every now and then, but there was a fine line between the letting loose and being a pain to everyone around you.

The thing about this years party was that I was finally allowed to drink, which meant that I too would be in on the fun, at least that’s what I assumed. It was hard to be surrounded by drunk adults having the time of their lives while I was stuck in the background sulking. Of course there were always some kids to hang out with, but I always ended up being left out.

While greeting everyone and joining different conversations, I spotted my Uncle walking into the yard with an extremely attractive man at his side. Immediately, I left the group of a few people to walk over to him. Our eyes locked and my Uncle smiled and held out his arms for a hug.

“Ah, y/n, it’s been too long since I’ve seen my favorite niece!” He greeted, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing playfully like he did when I was a child.

“Hey Uncle Dave,” I replied, smiling in his embrace. “I’ve missed you too.”

As we broke apart, I looked towards the handsome stranger, content with holding myself back from gawking at him. Something about him felt so familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Oh, this is my good friend Pedro.” He looked toward Pedro, “This is my niece, y/n. My brothers daughter.”

Pedro smiled and nodded at me, holding out his hand and shaking mine.

“It’s so nice to meet you, y/n.” He looked back at my uncle, “You never told me how beautiful she was.” He said with a slight laugh.

My uncle playfully narrowed his eyes at him, “Don’t make me kick your ass, Pedro.”

They both shared a laugh before my father spotted his brother, pulling him away and leaving Pedro and I alone.

“So how did you and my uncle meet?” I asked, wanting to know more about him.

“Oh, Dave and I met when we were filming a show of mine. We ended up spending a lot of time together on set and started spending even more time out of work.”

I nodded and smiled, remembering that my uncle was a writer and producer in Hollywood. Suddenly it clicked in my head, I knew this man. He was THE Pedro Pascal. I first met him on screen as Oberyn Martell, whom I had a crush on in the asoiaf book series.

He must’ve noticed my eyes growing slightly wider and recognized the moment of realization.

“I see that you know who I am now, correct?” He stated, breaking me away from my thoughts.

I looked up at him, feeling a deep blush burn across my face.

“Uh, yeah, you’re Pedro Pascal. I’m uh, I’m a big fan of yours.”

He laughed,

“Well maybe not enough if you couldn’t recognize me right away.”

I let out an awkward laugh and he smiled softly back at me.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’m only teasing. It happens a lot more often than you might think.”

I just nodded and found myself tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ears. Pedro noticed and leaned down to whisper into my ear.

“You’re very beautiful, y/n. Especially when you get all flustered like this.”

He pulled away and looked around to make sure no one was paying much attention to us. Meanwhile, I was taken aback that someone like him would ever like someone like me. I mean, yeah I was pretty, usually on a good day, but I wasn’t anything like the women I knew he’d been around.

Taking a sip of my wine from a plastic cup, I scanned my surroundings. I noticed that my parents and uncle were all preoccupied with the other guests, leaving no room for any unwanted attention. Then I suddenly felt a bit lightheaded, and I stumbled back a few inches. Pedro immediately grabbed my arm to keep me steady, then leaving it there once I locked eyes with him.

“Shit, I don’t know what just happened to me. Maybe I’m more of a lightweight then I thought.” I half-laughed, earning me a smirk from Pedro.

“Don’t worry, you’re still young and you’ve got plenty of time to get used to it.”

After giving him an amused smirk, I took another swing of my drink.

“You’re right, but I’m afraid if I try it all too fast then I might end up in the emergency room, or worse.”

With a sigh, I noticed my cup was finally empty, so I turned myself toward the house to get more. Something deep inside knew that I’d have to have even more alcohol to keep calm around Pedro.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head inside for another drink, or maybe just sit down for a bit to get out of this heat.”

Pedro have me an understanding look, but I saw the slight disappointment in his eyes. I couldn’t believe that this man actually wanted to be around me.

“I mean, you can join me if you want. I just thought you’d want to meet the rest of my family or something.”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a soft snort.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, Pedro. You’re the best company I’ve ever had at one of this things.”

He beamed at me and I looked around one last time, hoping everyone else was still preoccupied. I mean, I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea - wait, why did I suddenly care what everyone thought of me? Was I really that afraid? I shrugged my thoughts off and gave Pedro my hand. He grabbed it without missing a beat, and I lead him to the back door.

Once we entered the house, I walked toward the fridge, opening it and grabbing myself a hard iced tea.

“Would you like anything?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a beer, y/n.”

Hearing him say my name made your insides melt; I had to fight to keep myself on my feet. I found myself falling so hard for a man who had only met me maybe half and hour ago. Rolling my eyes at myself, I grabbed him a beer and walked over to the sofa.

“Here ya go, Pedro.”

I sat myself right next to him, our thighs touching. It made my nerves go all haywire, and I couldn’t control them anymore.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

There was a pause after he spoke, his words lingering like fingertips on my chest. I wanted him to call me endearing names like that for the rest of my life.

Pedro broke my train of thought by clearing his throat, trying to ease the awkward tension in the room. So it wasn’t just me who felt this way. I looked up at him, our eyes meeting once again.

“Pedro, pl-please tell me it’s not just me.”

He stops himself from responding by pursing his lips. He looked as though he had all kinds of internal conflict to suddenly deal with. After a few seconds past, he looked towards his hands. Then he moved to grab mine, taking my by surprise. He brings my hands to his lips and feathers his lips against my skin, leaving soft, slight kisses. As much I was wanted this moment to last a lifetime, I couldn’t help but satisfy my eager self. I decided to pull my hand away and replace them with my own lips, crushing them against his at last. I could feel Pedro’s slight shock at first, and then he quickly turned back to his calm demeanor. Eventually we pulled away from each other to catch ourselves. All I could notice was his bright grin, practically radiating our surroundings.

“Woah.” I muttered, my breathing still slightly heavy.

“Yeah.” He replied, running a hand through his dark hair.

It was at that moment that I knew I wanted this man to fuck me into the morning light, and I wanted him to start as soon as possible. Pedro then gave me a quizzical look, practically begging to know what I was thinking. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and unlocked it, going to my contacts section and starting a new one.

“Put your number in my phone.”

He looked down at my phone and back at me, grabbing it and putting his name and number in.

“Okay, so I’ve got a plan to get you in my room without anyone noticing we’re gone for too long.”

Pedro’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising dramatically. I smiled in response to his unspoken question, blushing once again at him.

“But, only if you want to, of course.”

“And what exactly do we want to do?”

I gulped, my mouth dry as I was suddenly at a loss for words.

“Hm?”

I leaned onto him, my lips hovering over his ear. I bit my lip before confessing my desire to him, for him.

“I want you in me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Pedro was left stunned by my request, but I could see the part of him that wanted me more than anything. He gulped and then let out a long, heavy breath.

“Are you sure this is what you want, y/n?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, what’s the plan?”

“We go outside together, and then separate. I go find my parents and tell them that I don’t feel good and that I’m going to bed. Then when I’m ready, I’ll text you.”

“What do I say if someone asks where I’m going?”

“Just make something up, like you need to go to the bathroom, or you need to lay down. I don’t know.”

He gave me an unsure look, but I raised my fingers to his cheek and he nodded. We both got up from the couch and made our way to the back door. Once we were outside, I spotted my mom and made a beeline for her.

“Hey mom, I-“

“Oh, y/n! I was starting to worry about you. Now that you’re here we can start the fireworks!”

“Yeah, about that, uh...mom, I think I drank a bit too much and now I don’t feel so hot. I think it’s best if I just head in for the night.”

My mother gave me a slightly disappointed look, knowing how much I enjoyed the fireworks.

“Oh, well, I suppose you should. I’d hate for you to miss everything, though.”

“I’ll be fine mom. I’ve got plenty of years left.”

“Goodnight sweetheart. Don’t forget to take something to help you sleep.”

“I will mom. Love you.”

As soon as I was able to, I walked back to the house. I spotted Pedro with my uncle and dad, and all I could think was how he was gonna get away from them. Would they have any idea what we’d be doing? No, I can’t think like that. I need this. I need Pedro.

I reached my bedroom and saw that I had some clothes and cups scattered around. I quickly cleaned everything up and made sure to spray some air freshener around. I undressed and put on my sexiest pair of undies and bra, then redressing. I put out and lit some candles to soothe the tone of my surroundings, hoping that Pedro would like it. Lastly, I found the box of condoms that I kept in the back of my nightstand for whatever. I then noticed that they weren’t open. Of course. I’ve never been able to bring a guy home and actually sleep with him. Well, there’s a first for everything.

As soon as I was ready, I found Pedro’s contact and texted him.

* Hey, I’m ready for you ;)

I waited for a few minutes until he replied.

* Okay baby girl. I’m on my way now ;)

I let out a quiet shriek of excitement at the fact that he called my baby girl. This is finally happening! Suddenly there was a knock on my door.

“Come in.”

Pedro swiftly opened and shut the door before taking a long look at me. He licked his lips as he walked towards me sitting on the end of my bed. I shot up and wrapped my arms around him, the two of us just looking at each other. I broke his gaze and slammed my lips against his, my tongue immediately slipping into his mouth. He growled as he pushed us onto the bed, the feeling of his clothed dick against my leg driving me crazier. Once he started kissing on my neck, I began lifting his shirt up his torso, begging for him. He helped me remove it, giving me a chance to take in his beautiful body.

“I hope I haven’t disappointed you yet.”

“Oh, I can already tell that you won’t.”

We smiled at each other before I removed my own shirt and bra for him. Pedro smiled bigger and leaned back down to run his lips against my breast. His mouth began teasing at my left nipple while he used his hand to play with my right one. I let out my first moan of the night, attracting Pedro’s immediate attention. His head shot up, and I saw the lust in his dark eyes. I nodded to let him know that I truly wanted this, that I needed this. He grinned in response, returning his attention to my breast. Now taking my right nipple into his mouth, he used his hands to roam my sides. Every inch he touched had lit up like a dull burning flame. The heat was rising and spreading all over, but never enough the painfully burn me. It was a heat that I had only ever dreamt of feeling. I realized that it wasn’t the feeling of Pedro touching me that lit my fire; it was Pedro himself that lit my fire. He lit it and made me burn brighter then I could have ever thought possible. It was at this very moment that I began to understand how much this man truly meant to me.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Pedro asked, pulling me out of my thoughts to notice him looked towards me. I hadn’t noticed that he stopped, or that I was breathing heavily and slightly shaking.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just got lost in my head for a bit.”

Damn it, I ruined the mood for him! Now he probably thinks I was so bored that I drifted off. Why am I always getting stuck in my thoughts? I mean, the only ever make things worse for me.

“I-you’re fine, Pedro. I promise.”

“Okay y/n, if you say so.”

He reached up from my torso to place a tender kiss on my forehead, then one on my lips. I could taste the beer from his mouth, further intoxicating me. I let out a soft plea for me and Pedro let out another growl, his teeth now grazing my bottom lip as he pulled away from the kiss to focus his mouth on my neck and collarbone. He started at the corner of my mouth and made his way down my neck. His warm, hot breath sending shivers down my spine. Once he had kissed my skin he began sucking and gently biting, making sure to leave just the slightest of marks. He wanted to make sure that only I could notice them tomorrow morning, after he was long gone. The thought alone made my heart melt with pure joy. Pedro had cared about me enough to leave his mark. He wanted me to know that he wanted me. Not just at this very moment, but even after. He wanted to make the best first impression he possibly could. I softly bucked my hips up against his, begging for some kind of friction from him. He let out a short chuckle, looking back at me and caressing my face in his hands.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

My body let out a hum of delight, his words filling my heart and lower abdomen with butterflies.

“Please daddy. I need you now.”

I begged with all of my heart and soul, wanting to let him know just how much I meant what I said. He needed to understand that I was clay in his hands, waiting to be molded and created.

After what seemed like hours of waiting, Pedro left my upper body and pulled off my shorts. He positioned himself to place kisses on my inner thigh, making sure to leave more marks on me. I knew he could see and feel the warmth pooling at my center, he knew how ready I was. Yet he continued to tease me like this. Asshole.

Just as I was about to say something, he looked up into my eyes as he began using his teeth to remove my panties. The sheer sight alone was almost enough to send me off. This is the kind of shit I thought only happened in romance novels or something. Surely no man was ever this willing to go through all this trouble to further turn a woman on. But here he was, giving his all to please little old me. I felt my mouth pull into a genuine smile, my cheeks burning at my complete vulnerability and nakedness before him.

Once he got to my knees, he used his fingers to remove the fabric. I lifted my legs to help, feeling slightly guilty that he was doing all the work. After my clothing was strewn out on floor, Pedro took another longing look at me, doing his best to remember every inch of me in this moment. I could tell that he never wanted to forget this, and I never wanted to either. He then let out a soft breath.

“You’re so beautiful, mi amor.”

He spoke as if he were in a trance, like the sight of my body enough to completely hypnotize him.

“I’m all yours, daddy.”

My words snapped Pedro out of his thoughts, his eyes darting to meet mine. He licked his lips and hovered down between my legs. I spread my legs to give him more access. He wasted no time and gingerly places his lips on my folds. The sudden warmth made my shiver, my sex quivering for him. I let out a sigh of relief, but there was still an enormous amount of frustration in my body.

“I need you now, Pedro. Please. Please daddy.”

Pedro chuckled, the sound vibrating against me, tingling my bundle of nerves.

“Anything for you, baby girl.”

He then inserted two digits, spreading them apart to help adjust me for his length. He made sure to swirl his fingers around a bit, and then pump them in and out of me. I could hear my wetness through my groans, further turning me on.

Just as I was beginning to get used to his fingers, he pulled them out and put them in his mouth. The sight of him sucking my juices off of his own fingers was an absolute dream. This man kept on amazing me with his dedication to me. He lifted himself off the bed to remove his jeans and briefs. His cock sprung out of its restraints, almost completely erect already. In a swift movement, he grabbed the condom from the side of the bed and tore it open. All I could do was fixate on him rolling it onto himself. I found myself wanted to watch him pump himself, I wanted to see him finish himself.

“God you’re so fucking hot when you look at me like that, baby. It turns me on so fucking much.”

I smiled a shy grin, my cheeks flushing once again. Pedro bent down to give me a hungry kiss, his tongue now exploring my mouth. He pulled away and positioned himself to enter me. He pulled my body towards the end of the bed, my legs leaning of the end. His grip on my thighs tightened, pushing his cock to my entrance. With a rough inhale, he slowly slid into me, making sure I was alright.

“You can tell me if anything hurts, sweetheart. I’m more than willing to take my time.”

I looked up at him, shaking my head.

“No, Pedro, I’m fine. Really. You’re doing perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.”

He nodded and finally pushed himself all the way into me. He quickly pulled out, my slickness aiding him. Then he began to slide in and out, his tempo growing faster with every thrust. Before I could gather myself together, he started swirling his thumb on my clit. He was sending me further than I ever thought I could go. Without missing a beat, my body reacted to his thrusts and rubbing by releasing itself. I felt myself fucking squirting on him. As soon as he noticed, he let out a deep groan of delight.

“Oh fucking yes, baby. That’s it. Squirt all over daddy.”

I noticed my moans growing louder and louder with each movement he made. I was grabbing at my bedsheets, begging for release. The tension was building up in me faster than I could handle. I also began letting out high pitched moans, reminding myself of a porn star or something. It sounded so unrealistic to me, almost overdramatic. But here I was, putting no effort into these noises, all of them purely natural responses.

“Yes, yes, fuck fuck fuck.”

I muttered, almost forgetting how to speak through this euphoria.

“I’m so fucking close daddy!”

My lower abdomen had a feeling of tight coils being bunched together, tighter and tighter with every breath. I knew that I only had seconds before they would release.

“Yes baby girl, that’s it. Come for daddy.”

Pedro sped up his pace on my clit and thrusted harder, hitting my sweet spot. Within a few more thrusts, I felt it hit me. My climax had began and I was now riding off my own high. My eyes had slammed shut and tears were forming in them. I let out a squeal of absolute pleasure, my body almost convulsing from the amount of pure release. I managed to grab Pedro’s arms and began to squeeze, trying to find some sort of stability through my high. I was practically screaming for him at this point, not knowing what else to do. I’d only ever experienced a few climaxes this intense before, and they had all been a long while ago.

Pedro had begun his climax as soon as my walls tightened around him as I started mine. His cock twitched inside me, growing softer by the second. He let out a bundle of english and spanish curses, his grip on my hips tightening as much as mine on him. As soon as he was finished, he pulled out and removed his condom. He tied the end and tossed in it my trash bin by my nightstand. While he did so, I was still left in a daze, stuck staring up at my ceiling. It felt as though my life had been complete, for I had experienced the greatest high known to man. There was nothing else left that could ever compare to that feeling. I had reached the very top.

“You thinking again, honey?”

Pedro had put on his briefs and jeans, then his shirt. He’d gathered my clothes and placed them beside my on the bed.

“Yeah. Just thinking about nothing.”

He simply nodded and sat on my bed. I lifted myself up to put on my panties and went to my dresser to grab a t-shirt to sleep in. I found my oversized Fleetwood Mac shirt and slid it on, turning around to face Pedro. He took a look at my shirt and grinned.

“You’ve got a taste for men and music. You’re my dream girl.”

We both laughed as I laid myself on my bed. I cover myself with the duvet and reached out to touch Pedro’s lap.

“Are you gonna leave now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, though. You’re much more entertaining than anything outside, my dear.”

He slid himself under my covers, cuddling me in his arms, kissing me. I felt at home; I felt truly complete. A part of me knew that this is what I want for the rest of my life. Pedro was the key to my happiness. I would never be the same without him, and I needed to keep him forever. I internally shook my head at my own self. I’m turning into a fucking sap for this man. I knew that we would never work out, but my heart still ached for him.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb caressing his face. His slight stubble creating a pleasing friction against my skin.

“So what exactly did you see in me?”

He looked almost shocked at my question, completely caught off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you find me so attractive that you’re currently risking your life to sleep with me?”

He chuckled and shook his head, rubbing his thumb on my face as I did his.

“I just saw something different in you. The way you held yourself, the way you looked me in the eyes as we talked. You were completely sincere in every way, and you have this undeniable charm about you. You’re so intoxicating to me.”

My heart swelled at his words. Was I really like that? I mean, I try my best to be nice to everyone I meet, but I didn’t think I was so full of compassion. I never really thought that I was different in a good way, or that I even stood out to anyone. I felt tears growing in my eyes, slowly sliding down my face. Pedro suddenly looked concerned, worried that he’d said something wrong.

“I’m sorry, was that not what you wanted to hear? I-I mean-“

“No Pedro, it was more than what I could’ve ever expected. No ones ever said anything so kind about me. I don’t think anyone has ever given me much thought before.”

“Well then everyone else is a fucking idiot, sweetheart. You’re everything and then some, and only a fool would miss something as incredible as that.”

We pulled together and kissed once again, our hands wrapped around each other in a longing embrace. I pulled away and smiled at Pedro.

“Now when did you figure out that I had a thing for you? Or for older guys in general?”

I teased him, giving him a toothy grin. He lightly pushed me away while I burst out giggling.

“Sweetheart, I knew you had a thing for older men the minute we met. I saw how you looked at me before you even knew who I was. I saw the thirst in your eyes.”

I blinked at him, slightly embarrassed at my own self for being so easy to read like that.

“Was it really that obvious?”

“Definitely, and you know what?”

“What?”

Pedro paused, reaching towards me to tuck a stray piece of my hair behind my ear. Then he placed a soft kiss on my nose, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.

“I totally fucking loved it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #oberyn martell #narcos #kingsmen #oscaar isaac #fluff #smut

[agentrouka-blog]

ASOIAF - Food symbolism: apples and Jon “You have to choose.”

Inspired by this amazing post by @thoughtsandgrumbles I felt compelled to look at apples a little. 

Apples are a deeply symbolic fruit on a good day, but I’m not going to go too deeply into the general use, because who has time for that? I’m looking at the text itself. This post will be all about apples in Jon’s chapters, once I get the preliminary rambles out of the way.

Warning: LONG. Many quotes.

Just a few things: 

Popularly associated with temptation and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in the garden of eden, the realization of being nekkid, the Expulsion of Adam and Eve from paradise as a result. (That would botanically not have been an apple, though.)

The apple “to the fairest” handed out by Eris, godess of discord, for Paris to choose among the three godesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite, ultimately leading to the Trojan War, which GRRM heavily draws from.

Snow White and the poison apple

Sansa is the name of a variety of apple that was developed in the 1970s, an early ripening mix of Gala and Akane.

Just by the general use, we get a theme of choice and destruction. Also Sansa is an apple. But - spoiler alert - that is NOT very central in Jon’s chapters. YET.

Also, some boring numbers, because this is not as easy a fruit as the persimmon to parse for the sheer amount of them:

Apples in general have 155 mentions in all searchable publications, 135 in the novels directly, 22 in Jon chapters. Only 9 of all the novel-mentions concern House Fossoway, 11 in the other literature. 

Top chapter uses: 

AFFC, Prologue - 14: Oldtown, Quill and Tankard inn backyard. Alleras shoots them with bow and arrow while the acolyte nerd squad discusses Dany and her dragon rumors. "Where's Rosey? Our rightful queen deserves another round of cider, wouldn't you say?" The apples are withered and wormy, the cider is fearsomely strong. Pate agonizes over his betrayal and theft for his creepy, obsessive love. His choice is “love”. Then he is killed. Complex.

ADWD, Jon V - 11: Jon passes out food and asks the wildlings at Mole’s Town to choose if they want to fight for the NW or not. Apples and onions, you have to choose. The apples are withered.

ADWD, Davos II - 7: Getting information about Manderly from an apple seller in White Harbor. Bad apple, good information. Theme in WH: who are you truly loyal to? The apple is dry and mealy, “bad”. Apples and onions, again.

ASOS, Bran III - 5, and ASOS, Jon V - 3: (8 combined) Rotten apples carpet the ground near an abandoned Queenscrown inn. They provide the background for Jon’s break with the Wildling Undercover Operation and flight back to the Watch. Theme: the abandonment of the Gift, the decline of the Watch, the Dream of Spring and Jon really doesn’t even really pretend to want a future with Ygritte. He chooses. The apples are rotten. 

POV uses: Jon 22, Arya 18, Prologue AFFC 14, Sansa 13, Davos 8, Jaime 8, Bran 8, Tyrion 8, Brienne 6, Catelyn 6, Dany 5, Eddard 5, Cersei 3, Theon 3, Samwell 2 JonCon 1, Asha 1, Quentyn 1, Arianne 1, Areo Hotah 1, Prologue ADWD: 1.

Jon is not only the single top POV character to feature the apple, he also has two of the top-use chapters that give the apple significance in setting the background. The apple is very closely tied to Jon. 

A short note on the  red apple Fossoways (Cider Hall) and the green apple Fossoways (New Barrel): 

The branches split at the trial of seven at the Tourney at Ashford (of the Ashford Theory), where the red apple fought for the bad guys (Aerion Targaryen) and the green apple for Ser Duncan the Tall.

Both had the red apple of the Fossoways painted on their shields, but the younger man's was soon hacked and chipped to pieces. "Here's an apple that's not ripe yet," the older said as he slammed the other's helm. (…)

"Ser Raymun, if you please." He cantered up, a grim smile lighting his face beneath his plumed helm. "My pardons, ser. I needed to make a small change to my sigil, lest I be mistaken for my dishonorable cousin." He showed them all his shield. The polished golden field remained the same, and the Fossoway apple, but this apple was green instead of red. "I fear I am still not ripe . . . but better green than wormy, eh?" 

(The Hedge Knight)

Again with the split of loyalty, with the following your moral code, with the choices. 

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So how do apples feature for Jon himself?

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Apples are connected to Jon’s struggle of loyalty to the Night’s Watch, and with his inner struggle in general. Every time they show up, he is confronted with a choice of who to stay loyal to, what values to follow. 

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First apple: AGOT, Jon IX. 

Jon’s final chapter in the book. Big Drama!

Jon eats a brown, withered apple when he tries to flee the NW the first time. He is heading South because his father has been killed and he wants to join Robb. He is plagued by self-doubt and fear. Then he takes a break to eat. 

In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. (...) He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north.

Straight after, he is caught and prodded back in an incredibly moving, nonviolent confrontation by his new Brothers reciting the NW vows. 

"… and all the nights to come," finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon's reins. "So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me."

Jon lifted his sword … and lowered it, helpless. "Damn you," he said. "Damn you all." 

In his mind, Jon is determined to try and escape again, but the next day, Mormont lets him know they knew what happened. 

Jon’s throat was dry. “You know?” “Know,” the raven echoed from Mormont’s shoulder. “Know.” The Old Bear snorted. “Do you think they chose me Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch because I’m dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you’d go. I told him you’d be back. I know my men … and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad … and honor brought you back.” “My friends brought me back,” Jon said. “Did I say it was your honor?” Mormont inspected his plate.

Jon thinks he’ll be executed. Instead, he will be taken along to the great ranging beyond the Wall. 

“So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night’s Watch … or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?” Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran … forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. “I am … yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again.” The Old Bear snorted. “Good. Now go put on your sword.”

Apple = choice. The choice is the Watch. Because the war against the Others is more important. 

Apple Quality: Brown and whithered. But still tart and juicy.

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Second apple: ACOK, Jon I

A former green apple (the valiantly knightly Fossoway kind) is to be dispatched from the Wall to garner support from a Baratheon king... 

"Renly is not like to heed a quaking fat boy. I'll send Ser Arnell. He's a deal steadier, and his mother was one of the green-apple Fossoways."

"If it please my lord, what would you have of King Renly?"

The conversation turns toward maester Aemon, his repeated refusal to become king and the incredibly foreshadowy information about the ending of the dragon line. 

It made him feel odd. “My lord, why have you told me this, about Maester Aemon?” “Must I have a reason?” Mormont shifted in his seat, frowning. “Your brother Robb has been crowned King in the North. You and Aemon have that in common. A king for a brother.” “And this too,” said Jon. “A vow.” (…)

Jon drew himself up, taut as a bowstring. “And if it did trouble me, what might I do, bastard as I am?” “What will you do?” Mormont asked. “Bastard as you are?” “Be troubled,” said Jon, “and keep my vows.”

Apple = choice. The choice is the Watch. The bigger picture is more important.

Apple Quality: green and unripe. (But honorable.)

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Third apple: ACOK, Jon VII

Jon and the Qhorin Halfhand crew are on the losing side of a game of cat and mouse with the warg-powered wildlings. Squire Dalbridge is about to sacrifice his life by going to shoot the Wildlings that are stalking them. 

The squire bowed his head. "Leave me as many arrows as you can spare, brothers." He stroked his longbow. "And see my garron has an apple when you're home. He's earned it, poor beastie."

He's staying to die, Jon realized.  

And that’s almost right at the end of the chapter. This is the only apple chapter where Jon is NOT immediately confronted with a moral dilemma of loyalty or the making of choices. And Dalbridge’s self-sacrifice, his off-page death, all of that means it’s a more long-term projection of the dilemma. 

The next, final chapter, Jon and Qhorin Halfhand are captured and he is compelled to kill Qhorin to prove himself a turncloak to the Wildlings, in order to start his Undercover Operation. 

The flames were burning low by then, the warmth fading. “The fire will soon go out,” Qhorin said, “but if the Wall should ever fall, all the fires will go out.” There was nothing Jon could say to that. He nodded. “We may escape them yet,” the ranger said. “Or not.” “I’m not afraid to die.” It was only half a lie. “It may not be so easy as that, Jon.” He did not understand. “What do you mean?” 

(…)

Rattleshirt’s bone armor clattered loudly as he laughed. “Then kill the Halfhand, bastard.” “As if he could,” said Qhorin. “Turn, Snow, and die.” And then Qhorin’s sword was coming at him and somehow Longclaw leapt upward to block. The force of impact almost knocked the bastard blade from Jon’s hand, and sent him staggering backward. You must not balk, whatever is asked of you. 

(…)

He knew, he thought numbly. He knew what they would ask of me. He thought of Samwell Tarly then, of Grenn and Dolorous Edd, of Pyp and Toad back at Castle Black. Had he lost them all, as he had lost Bran and Rickon and Robb? Who was he now? What was he?

“Get him up.” Rough hands dragged him to his feet. Jon did not resist. “Do you have a name?” Ygritte answered for him. “His name is Jon Snow. He is Eddard Stark’s blood, of Winterfell.”

(ACOK, Jon VIII)

Ouch. From this point on, Jon will have to make his own choices, no longer guided by other people’s rules, other people’s honor. The choices will be harder, lonelier. They will be contradictory, they will involve even more tangible loss. They will involve dishonor. The reward is as distant as home. Sacrifice. Death.

But one day, the poor beastie will get an apple, he will have earned it. 

Apple = choice. The choice is the Watch. The bigger picture.

Apple quality: unknown. 

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Fourth apple: ASOS, Jon I

As inconspicuously as above, the apple features in a memory of home, featuring not-yet-deserter Mance Rayder at Winterfell, meeting Robb and Jon up to shennanigans:

“I remember,” said Jon with a startled laugh. A young black brother on the wallwalk, yes … “You swore not to tell.”

"And kept my vow. That one, at least."

"We dumped the snow on Fat Tom. He was Father's slowest guardsman." Tom had chased them around the yard afterward, until all three were red as autumn apples. "But you said you saw me twice. When was the other time?"

"When King Robert came to Winterfell to make your father Hand," the King-beyond-the-Wall said lightly. (ASOS, Jon I)

A neat connection between desertion, vow-keeping and the events that led Jon to take his own path to the Wall. Before Meeting Mance, Ygritte has been praising the values of being “free” like the good Little Wildling Propagandist that she is. But Jon isn’t biting yet.

The following conversation gives the backstory of Mance Rayder’s desertion from the Wall. It was over a cloak, mended by a Wildling woman who tended to him while he was injured.

“And she sewed up the rents in my cloak as well, with some scarlet silk from Asshai that her grandmother had pulled from the wreck of a cog washed up on the Frozen Shore. It was the greatest treasure she had, and her gift to me.” He swept the cloak back over his shoulders. “But at the Shadow Tower, I was given a new wool cloak from stores, black and black, and trimmed with black, to go with my black breeches and black boots, my black doublet and black mail. The new cloak had no frays nor rips nor tears … and most of all, no red. The men of the Night’s Watch dressed in black, Ser Denys Mallister reminded me sternly, as if I had forgotten. My old cloak was fit for burning now, he said. “I left the next morning … for a place where a kiss was not a crime, and a man could wear any cloak he chose.” He closed the clasp and sat back down again. “And you, Jon Snow?”

Jon uses Mance’s story of visiting Winterfell to spin his own lie:

“And did you see where I was seated, Mance?” He leaned forward. “Did you see where they put the bastard?” Mance Rayder looked at Jon’s face for a long moment. “I think we had best find you a new cloak,” the king said, holding out his hand. 

What will the bastard do? Be troubled and keep his vows. So far, so true. But he did kill Qhorin Halfhand, he is pretending to be a deserter. Lines are a lot more blurry than they used to be.

Apple = choice. The choice is… the Night’s Watch. Shifting more and more toward simply the bigger picture. 

Apple quality: red autumn apple. 

Red silk patches. Conflicting values. Women. There is uncertainty on the horizon. 

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Fifth apple. ASOS Jon V.  BIG apple chapter.

His final confrontation as an Undercover Wildling.

This confrontation takes place at the abandoned tower and village of Queenscrown, which gets a closer description in the accompanying Bran chapter: 

No one had lived in the village for long years, Bran could see. All the houses were falling down. Even the inn. It had never been much of an inn, to look at it, but now all that remained was a stone chimney and two cracked walls, set amongst a dozen apple trees. One was growing up through the common room, where a layer of wet brown leaves and rotting apples carpeted the floor. The air was thick with the smell of them, a cloying cidery scent that was almost overwhelming. Meera stabbed a few apples with her frog spear, trying to find some still good enough to eat, but they were all too brown and wormy. 

(ASOS, Bran III)

The abandonment of Brandon’s Gift is a subject of conflict between Jon and Ygritte. A carpet of rotting apples. It opens the very next Jon chapter, as they are on the way to Queenscrown. Ygritte mocks the farmers who left the Gift as fools. Jon doesn’t take the bait yet. He briefly indulges in a fantasy of introducing Ygritte to Winterfell before being overcome with guilt and shame again. Ygritte is super great at reading his mood: 

“Might be after we could come back here, and live in that tower,” she said. “Would you want that, Jon Snow? After?”

He doesn’t think about it, doesn’t answer for a while, it rather reminds him of Ned’s Dream of Spring, the plan to resettle the Gift. The Starks and the Watch. 

If winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father’s name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged. “This land belongs to the Watch,” Jon said. Her nostrils flared. “No one lives here.”

Jon isn’t even tempted. Like, no, Jon, Bambi, you did not love this person, no matter what your telling yourself later. He doesn’t even really contemplate it. 

Instead of bonding them closer together, Ygritte’s invitation to make long-term plans has the opposite effect. It fans the flames of what divides them. They argue about raiding and rape. Ygritte spouts nonsense.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow. Daughters are taken, not wives. You’re the ones who steal. You took the whole world, and built the Wall t’ keep the free folk out.”

Ygritte, no, that is not why the Wall was built. You think they built a gargantuan magic ice structure to keep out Styr, Magnar of Thenn, or what? Really? Jon is also sceptical of this version of history:

“Did we?” Sometimes Jon forgot how wild she was, and then she would remind him. “How did that happen?”

"The gods made the earth for all men t' share. Only when the kings come with their crowns and steel swords, they claimed it was all theirs. My trees, they said, you can't eat them apples. My stream, you can't fish here. My wood, you're not t' hunt. My earth, my water, my castle, my daughter, keep your hands away or I'll chop 'em off, but maybe if you kneel t' me I'll let you have a sniff. You call us thieves, but at least a thief has t' be brave and clever and quick. A kneeler only has t' kneel." 

Ygritte is basically a bland political extremist. I could sympathize with her criticism of feudal culture if it didn’t come hand in hand with her passionate defense of violent theft and rape culture. Like, you paragon of intelligence, not everyone resides at the fair top of the food chain like you do in your peak fitness status within your warrior culture. But of course, rape is fun! Just bring a knife!

"Harma and the Bag of Bones don't come raiding for fish and apples. They steal swords and axes. Spices, silks, and furs. They grab every coin and ring and jeweled cup they can find, casks of wine in summer and casks of beef in winter, and they take women in any season and carry them off beyond the Wall."

Apples in a breath with women. People should not be “stolen”. But Ygritte thinks men who successfully abduct and rape women are sexy. She’s like Dany that way. There are some cultural divides that cannot be pretended away, and their entire conversation circles around it. Jon is plagued by terrible guilt, he tries to warn Ygritte that their plan is doomed, she (rightfully) suspects his loyalty to the Wildlings and Jon believes himself in love but he never wavers in his actual allegiance to the NW.

She grinned at that, showing Jon the crooked teeth that he had somehow come to love. Wildling to the bone, he thought again, with a sick sad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand, and wondered what Ygritte would do if she knew his heart. Would she betray him if he sat her down and told her that he was still Ned Stark’s son and a man of the Night’s Watch? He hoped not, but he dare not take that risk.

GRRM is going out of his way to undermine the supposed romance by constantly referring to the conflict between them and the apples-of-choice are just all over. 

Anyway, Jon is thoroughly eaten by guilt over having to betray these human beings who are a vicious and brutal threat to the place and people he loves and swore to protect. His true identity is hinted at:

Jon wondered where Ghost was now. Had he gone to Castle Black, or was he was running with some wolfpack in the woods? He had no sense of the direwolf, not even in his dreams. It made him feel as if part of himself had been cut off. Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone. He did not want to die alone.

Ghost. Not Ygritte. Not the wildlings. Not the Watch, even. Ghost. Wolf.  

They arrive at the Queenscrown inn and an old man is captured.

Jon walked away. A rotten apple squished beneath his heel. Styr will kill him. The Magnar had said as much at Greyguard; any kneelers they met were to be put to death at once, to make certain they could not raise the alarm. Ride with them, eat with them, fight with them. Did that mean he must stand mute and helpless while they slit an old man's throat?  

The apples are rotten. Jon spends one last moment with Ygritte contemplating Queenscrown and then the “kill the old man” business starts. He struggles but ultimately refuses. Bran’s wolf Summer disrupts the tension with a bloody attack and Jon doesn’t hesitate to Escape. Like when they met, Jon didn’t slit Ygritte’s throat, but she slit the old man’s. He will not shoot arrows at her, but she did at him. Love. 

Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, but above him the clouds were breaking up. Jon searched the sky until he found the Ice Dragon, then turned the mare north for the Wall and Castle Black. The throb of pain in his thigh muscle made him wince as he put his heels into the old man’s horse. I am going home, he told himself. But if that was true, why did he feel so hollow?

Apple = choice. The choice is… NOT Ygritte. NOT the Wildlings. Time and again. But it also isn’t the Watch. Not as it had been before. Jon followed his instincts, his inner values, but it had a cost, it is hard. Jon is lost.

Apple Quality: rotten. 

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Sixth apple: ASOS, Jon VII  

The Battle at Castle Black They await the attack, Jon and Satin share a meal. And they get a nod to Renly’s peach quote:

"Eat," Jon told him. "There's no knowing when you'll have another chance." He took two buns himself. The nuts were pine nuts, and besides the raisins there were bits of dried apple.  (ASOS, Jon VII)

Compare to Renly, which also took place before a nightly sneak attack. 

"A man should never refuse to taste a peach," Renly said as he tossed the stone away. "He may never get the chance again. Life is short, Stannis. Remember what the Starks say. Winter is coming." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. (ACOK, Catelyn III)

Peaches have an air of incest and hedonism about them, nostalgia and summer, Baratheons and Arya and Asha. The apple is different. It’s about choice, about conflicted loyalty and personal values, about identity and the bigger picture. (And again and again, they connect to women.)

Jon commands part of the fight, it’s grim. He recognizes some of the wildlings as they pepper them with arrows but cannot shoot at who he thinks is Ygritte. Wildlings die, his brothers die. The battle is brutal, Jon’s POV is distant. Satin remains by his side all throughout, grounding him. Jon remembers advice from Theon, from Ned. They eventually beat the wildling attackers with a horrifying fire trap on the stairs, they win. Immediately after, Jon goes looking for Ygritte, Satin still by his side.

The ice crystals had settled over her face, and in the moonlight it looked as though she wore a glittering silver mask. The arrow was black, Jon saw, but it was fletched with white duck feathers. Not mine, he told himself, not one of mine. But he felt as if it were.

We get a Dany-Val nod… 

The light of the half-moon turned Val's honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. "The air tastes sweet."

"My tongue is too numb to tell. All I can taste is cold." (ADWD, Jon VIII)

...and a lovely double-layered “not mine, not one of mine”. Not his arrows, but he feels guilty. She is not his pack, but he feels guilty.

She just smiled at that. “D’you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so.” “We’ll go back to the cave,” he said. “You’re not going to die, Ygritte. You’re not.” “Oh.” Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she sighed, dying.

Jon struggles to let go of the fantasy. He is loyal to the cause of the Watch, if not the letter of the vows, but he knows now that his souls want more. He indulges Ygritte’s fantasy of returning because it’s the only thing he has, the only thing he can offer. 

Apple = choice. The choice is… the Watch. But painfully. Numbly. No passion. Duty. 

Apple quality: dried. 

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Seventh apple: ASOS, Jon X 

Tormund’s daughter Munda.

After vicious attacking Janos Slynt for insulting Ned Stark during a hiostile interrogation in the previous chapter, Jon is sent to kill Mance Rayder under the pretense of parley to prove his loyalty. He is resigned and shame-filled, contemplating his future, where he will be remembered in honorless infamy.  Much bitterness, plenty of woe. His reception by Tormund is surprisingly jovial. They drink mead to honor their fallen Donal Noye and Ygritte, with surprisingly little bitterness. It helps Jon return some of his cheer.

"You bloody crows." Tormund's tone was gruff, yet strangely gentle. "That Longspear stole me daughter. Munda, me little autumn apple. Took her right out o' my tent with all four o' her brothers about.” Toregg slept through it, the great lout, and Torwynd … well, Torwynd the Tame, that says all that needs saying, don’t it? The young ones gave the lad a fight, though.”

“And Munda?” asked Jon. “She’s my own blood,” said Tormund proudly. “She broke his lip for him and bit one ear half off, and I hear he’s got so many scratches on his back he can’t wear a cloak. She likes him well enough, though. And why not? He don’t fight with no spear, you know. Never has. So where do you think he got that name? Har!”  Jon had to laugh. Even now, even here.

Autumn apple. Stolen women. Cloak. 

Stealing women was a hot topic with Ygritte and Jon is immediately concerned, but is reassured. The tenor of the conversation is conciliatory, while he is revealed to be loyal to the Watch, there is mutual respect. In Jon’s thoughts, Ygritte becomes a mentor voice, drifting away from the romantic woe of before. 

Easy for you to say, he thought back. You died brave in battle, storming the castle of a foe. I’m going to die a turncloak and a killer. Nor would his death be quick, unless it came on the end of Mance’s sword.

Similarly to Dany later, Jon is arguing with dead beloved abusers in his head, like she will do in ADWD with Viserys. Ygritte is less obviously horrific, but the “voices in my head” aspect and the sheer idealising that both of them engage in feels disconcerting. Never the less, we see Jon’s current identity status on Facebook is “turncloak”. Not Night’s Watch.

The rest of Mance’s “court” is less welcoming, but Mance draws him in for a private conference. The Horn of Winter is revealed, the mutual cause of the Wildlings and the Night’s Watch is identified.

“If I sound the Horn of Winter, the Wall will fall. Or so the songs would have me believe. There are those among my people who want nothing more …” “But once the Wall is fallen,” Dalla said, “what will stop the Others?”

(Dalla has the brains that Ygritte lacked. Why can SHE not be Jon’s mentor?) 

Mance offers to hand over the Horn of Joramun if they let the Wildlings pass through the Wall, or he will destroy the Wall in three days. Jon hesitates because he fears they will ransack the place, but he also has no negotiating credit with Thorne and Slynt. He contemplates just smashing the Horn, when suddenly Stannis attacks. The Wildlings are smashed, a helpless Jon enters the tent with Val to attend Dalla.

He is just... disillusioned.

Apple = choice. The choice is… the bigger picture. The Watch is headed by irrational scum, the Wildlings are no less dangerous to the North than they were before and Jon has no hope of saving his ruined reputation either way. He was about to murder Mance, then about to smash his bargaining chip, yet he has no ill will toward them. Only a depressed, numb resignation to preventing the worst of all outcomes. 

Apple Quality: autumn apple.

Again with the autumn apple. There are only 3 “autumn apples” in the books, all in ASOS. Jon I (above with Mance), Samwell II, and Jon X here. 

In Jon I it connected Mance’s disloyalty to the Watch to the red-and-black cloak given to him by a woman. Also Bael the Bard, deception and stealing. Jon consults his inner values, and chooses pragmatism. His break with “blind” honor will leave him flailing a bit.

In Jon X it specifically refers to a young woman being stolen. Jon consults his inner values, he chooses the bigger picture, but he’s frayed and his choice is interrupted. Stannis will offer him Winterfell. Ghost will remind him of who he is. Ultimately, he will become Lord Commander and his struggle with loyalty will cease for a long time.

What’s Sam’s autumn apple about?  They are listed with many foodstuffs that the angry NW brother’s at Craster’s after the fight at the Fist of the First Men expect to receive. Mormont just remembered the true purpose of the Watch. Gilly has just given birth to her son. Sam offers to take the boy, Craster gets mad. they bury a dead brother and the mood is mutinous.

“Apples,” said Garth of Greenaway. “Barrels and barrels of crisp autumn apples. There are apple trees out there, I saw ’em.”

A confrontation breaks out and they kill Craster and stab Mormont. Sam’s friends flee, the others raid and rape, Sam cradles a dying Mormont. Some wives approach and order Sam to take Gilly to safety. 

Gilly was crying. “Me and the babe. Please. I’ll be your wife, like I was Craster’s. Please, ser crow. He’s a boy, just like Nella said he’d be. If you don’t take him, they will.” “They?” said Sam, and the raven cocked its black head and echoed, “They. They. They.” “The boy’s brothers,” said the old woman on the left. “Craster’s sons. The white cold’s rising out there, crow. I can feel it in my bones. These poor old bones don’t lie. They’ll be here soon, the sons.”

The massive abundance of apples suggests a link to the abundance of women, to the connection to inner values over formal loyalty, to the “stealing” of Gilly to save her. To the massive bigger picture. With Jon it translates to his trademark quick-thinking pragmatism, with Sam it translates to compassion and identifying valuable information. 

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8th and final apple: ADWD, Jon V  - The Grand Appling.

ADWD Jon V is another big apple chapter:  you have to choose!

Much time has passed since the last apples were mentioned. Jon is Lord Commander and has sent away Sam, Gilly and maester Aemon. The Wildlings are south of the Wall. Food is a constant worry. Bowen Marsh is upset with Jon, Jon is super-diplomatic. Not. It’s time to bring provisions to the Wildlings at Mole’s Town. A Mirror to Dany in ADWD, Daenerys VI, bringing food to the Astapori refugees. The Wildlings are grumpy. Jon struggles to balance the culture clash between free folk, Stannis’ men and Wildlings.

Pig ignorance, Jon thought. The free folk were no different than the men of the Night’s Watch; some were clean, some dirty, but most were clean at times and dirty at other times.

Jon is much removed from his earlier woeful struggles or idealism. A weary pragmatism guides his every action. Grey.

Apples ensue:

"You can have an onion or an apple," Jon heard Hairy Hal tell one woman, "but not both. You got to pick."

The woman did not seem to understand. "I need two of each. One o' each for me, t'others for my boy. He's sick, but an apple will set him right." 

Hal shook his head. "He has to come get his own apple. Or his onion. Not both. Same as you. Now, is it an apple or an onion? Be quick about it, now, there's more behind you."

"An apple," she said, and he gave her one, an old dried thing, small and withered.

"Move along, woman," shouted a man three places back. "It's cold out here."

The woman paid the shout no mind. "Another apple," she said to Hairy Hal. "For my son. Please. This one is so little."

Hal looked to Jon. Jon shook his head. They would be out of apples soon enough. If they started giving two to everyone who wanted two, the latecomers would get none.

"Out of the way," a girl behind the woman said. Then she shoved her in the back. The woman staggered, lost her apple, and fell. The other foodstuffs in her arms went flying. Beans scattered, a turnip rolled into a mud puddle, a sack of flour split and spilled its precious contents in the snow. 

Apples are once again almost aggressively connected to choices. Apples or onions. Not both. You have to pick. 

Barring another meta, I can’t really say what the onion is supposed to represent. Some things that echoe Jon’s apple themes:

His sons were good fighters and better sailors, but they did not know how to talk to lords. They were lowborn, even as I was, but they do not like to recall that. When they look at our banner, all they see is a tall black ship flying on the wind. They close their eyes to the onion.  (ACOK, Davos I)

Denial. 

Dany nibbled at an onion and reflected ruefully on the faithlessness of men. (ACOK, Daenerys III)

Faithlessness.

The feast was a meager enough thing, a succession of fish stews, black bread, and spiceless goat. The tastiest thing Theon found to eat was an onion pie. Ale and wine continued to flow well after the last of the courses had been cleared away. (ACOK, Theon II)

Theon about to be ordered to attack Winterfell. Betrayal.

The last time it was life I brought to Storm's End, shaped to look like onions. This time it is death, in the shape of Melisandre of Asshai. (ACOK, Davos II)

Life and death brought by the same person.

Melisandre’s manichean world view vs. Davos’ more encompassing one:

"What if I am? It seems to me that most men are grey."

"If half of an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. A man is good, or he is evil."  (ACOK, Davos II)

Bless you Sam. 

Hungry as he was, Sam knew he would retch if he so much as tried a bite. How could they eat the poor faithful garrons who had carried them so far? When Craster's wives brought onions, he seized one eagerly. One side was black with rot, but he cut that part off with his dagger and ate the good half raw. (ASOS, Samwell II)

Considering apples represent the choice you make to serve an ethical bigger picture (not necessarily loyalty to an order), onions seem to show a contrasting duality of bad and good, a refusal to position oneself honestly, dirty compromises, the darkness in human beings. 

Davos’ entire arc circles around being a very decent human being who none the less supports a whole lot of questionable crap. Our resident kraken Theon is torn inside unable to choose between Greyjoy and Stark identity and becomes monstrous. 

Melisandre downright denies the existence of grey. The presence of bad cancels out all good.  Samwell, on the other hand, embraces the good while disregarding the bad. 

Ygritte smelled of onion. Dany eats wild onion on her dragon grassland chapter,  Jorah eats onion. Brienne has onion soup on her way to Lady Stoneheart. Jon offers the Wildlings onion soup after they burn their god’s for Melisandre in echange for safety. Dark compromises. 

So the choice between apples and onions is the choice to MAKE a choice. Stop hedging your bets or practicing denial, position yourself, one way or the other. 

The woman who refuses to choose, loses her apple, loses the fruit that will set her sick son right, loses her cance at following her inner moral compass and doing the right thing. 

There is a tussle, Jon tries to rally them with a speech. They are in a Mutiny at Craster’s Keep kind of mood.

“You want more food?” asked Jon. “The food’s for fighters. Help us hold the Wall, and you’ll eat as well as any crow.” Or as poorly, when the food runs short. (…)

“Fight for you?” This voice was thickly accented. Sigorn, the young Magnar of Thenn, spoke the Common Tongue haltingly at best. “Not fight for you. Kill you better. Kill all you.” The raven flapped its wings. “Kill, kill.” Sigorn’s father, the old Magnar, had been crushed beneath the falling stair during his attack on Castle Black. I would feel the same if someone asked me to make common cause with the Lannisters, Jon told himself. “Your father tried to kill us all,” he reminded Sigorn. “The Magnar was a brave man, yet he failed. And if he had succeeded … who would hold the Wall?”

Jon believes in the greyness of men, but he also believes in choices. You don’t have to be perfect to do the right thing. But you have to do the right thing. Or a thing, anyway. You have to choose.

There is more commotion. Jon decides to make it simpler.

"Hal, what was it that you told this woman?"

Hal looked confused. "About the food, you mean? An apple or an onion? That's all I said. They got to pick."

"You have to pick," Jon Snow repeated. "All of you. No one is asking you to take our vows, and I do not care what gods you worship. My own gods are the old gods, the gods of the North, but you can keep the red god, or the Seven, or any other god who hears your prayers. It's spears we need. Bows. Eyes along the Wall. (…)

He recruits, actively. 

“The choice is yours,” Jon Snow told them. “Those who want to help us hold the Wall, return to Castle Black with me and I’ll see you armed and fed. The rest of you, get your turnips and your onions and crawl back inside your holes.”

Apples yay, onions nay. Dany killed the slavers of Astapor, and left alive only children under the age of 12. Jon recruit ages 12 and up for the Watch, girls and boys. Dany killed 163 random slavers. Jon recruits 63 Wildlings.

By the time the last withered apple had been handed out, the wagons were crowded with wildlings, and they were sixty-three stronger than when the column had set out from Castle Black that morning. 

The apples win out. No more mention of onions in this chapter. 

The chapter ends on a grey note, uncertain but hopeful. 

Marsh was unconvinced. “You’ve added sixty-three more mouths, my lord … but how many are fighters, and whose side will they fight on? If it’s the Others at the gates, most like they’ll stand with us, I grant you … but if it’s Tormund Giantsbane or the Weeping Man come calling with ten thousand howling killers, what then?” “Then we’ll know. So let us hope it never comes to that.”

Hilariously, it is not the treachery of the apple-choosing wildlings Jon will have to worry about. 

The abundance of onions and apples in this chapter sets up the struggle Jon faces in later ADWD chapters. The bigger picture v. Arya. Apples are done, for now, the onions stalk him. He tries to strikes a balance. He hesitates, he sends Mance, he struggles. In the end, the Pink Letter sends him over the edge.

Apples v. onions.  Jon has chosen. 

Apples = choice. The choices is… NOT the Watch. Arya. The North. The bigger picture. House Stark. 

Apple Quality: withered. Like the very first apple. 

Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. “I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I’m not afraid to die.” “Die!” the raven cried. “Nor live, I hope,” Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. (AGOT, Jon IX)

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In conclusion:

Apples signal the necessity for Jon make a moral choice according to his own personal values. 

Jon always has his eyes on the bigger picture. 

His choices becomes increasingly divorced from the concept of loyalty to the Watch.

There is a pronounced conflict between apple and onion, between moral choice and refusal to choose. Jon tries to walk the line between the letter of his vows and his values. He ends up choosing his values. It goes badly. 

The quality of the apples has a relationship with the ease of choosing. 

whithered apples are fairly clean choices, 

rotten apples are traumatic choices, 

autumn apples relate to choices influenced by the wisdom of women, the stealing of women. 

There is a future apple promised to “the beastie” as a reward. 

If we want to draw a connection to the show, Jon will clearly face another apples v. onions conflict and the need to choose will feature heavily. It will go badly. But there is the promise of home and reward.

#asoiaf #fruit symbolism #apples #jon snow #you have to choose #my posts