#renly youre severely missed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steggr · 2 years

Photo

the capital of king’s landing welcomes shireen of house baratheon, the lady and heir apparent of dragonstone and the seven kingdoms. news borne by a raven sends word that they bear a resemblance to jessie mei li. the twenty four year old demi woman is reputed to be pioneering and undaunted, but with the eyes of court watching their every move, they might turn out to be reticent and defensive. when songs are sung, their verses speak of a long figure breaking through the thick morning mist, dark hair damp and eyes alight with wonder ; when melissa broder said, i ask god to send a swordsman and god says ❛ look at your hands ❜ ; fingertips calloused by the sword and the book, both scholar and aspiring god - queen. whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with house baratheon of dragonstone, where they conspire to prove themself a worthy successor to their father and safely locate the rest of robert baratheon’s bastards. but in the end, fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

statistics ⸻

birth name : shireen baratheon.

monikers / nicknames / aliases : the grey stag, lady adamant, fawn, reena.

gender and pronouns : demi woman and she or they.

orientation : demisexual demiromantic.

date and year of birth : 19th day of the 5th moon, 276 A.C.

age : twenty four.

titles : lady of dragonstone, heir apparent of the seven kingdoms ( undeclared ).

parents : stannis baratheon and selyse florent.

other familial members : robert baratheon ( uncle ), renly baratheon ( uncle ), mya stone ( cousin ), edric storm ( cousin ), gendry ( cousin ), bella ( cousin ), barra ( cousin ), joffrey baratheon ( false cousin ), myrcella baratheon ( false cousin ), tommen baratheon ( false cousin ).

significant other : none.

allegiance : house baratheon of dragonstone.

character inspiration : tba.

trigger warning for miscarriage(s), stillbirth(s), pregnancy, deathly illness ( in a child ), outdated medical practices, medical torture of a child, blood, bullying.

introduction ⸻

you are born after much struggle, pain and lost ─ before you ( and your siblings, born without a pulse or passing through as nothing more than a smear of red on the insides of your mother’s thighs ) are even a thought in either of your parents’ eyes, there is a tale of disgrace between the groom’s brother and the bride’s cousin. after a while, it becomes easier to believe that the deaths that follow are because of a curse on the matrimonial bed rather than lay the blame at the feet of the bride. it only makes your birth an even sweeter sight to behold and though neither of your parents were ones for sentimentality, it does take them several days to find a name for the newborn. your father had been optimistically hoping for a son, as most men were wont to do with their first babes, and while it would have been easier to name you after your deceased estermont grandmother, your father had not wanted to burden you with the expectation to live up to his mother’s former reputation as ruling lady of the stormlands and a favorite of queen rhaella targaryen.

( in the end, it is a dornish name that is chosen, the meaning as saccharine as the child that slumbers without a fuss amidst the humidity of dragonstone, the curve of your small head fitting snugly in the width of your father’s palm. )

much of your early childhood is a blur of memories though one thing that is decidedly commonplace in all of your recollections is the lack of a paternal figure in your life. stannis is made master of ships on the small council of king robert baratheon almost immediately after the siege of storm’s end is lifted and the rebellion is won, but you are much too young to understand how high of an honor your father has been bestowed, only that he is gone for too long of a time and returns for too short of a time, missing your milestones and growth spurts that by the time you turn six years old, he is all but a stranger to you ─ a person seen in glimpses and studied through idealistic stories told by your mother and your maester alike.

perhaps he feels something guilt over his absence for your father never returns without a gift to brighten the dull interiors of your rooms. he is a practical man, so most of his gifs reflect his personality, remaining strictly in the realm of enrichment. you pick up your letters quicker, eager to use the writing utensils, books and different colored inks that he purchases from the port of king’s landing, but on the eve of his departure to crush the ironborn rebellion in the west in 282 a.c., he presses a little doll into your arms when he oversees your bedtime routine, dressed in the colors of house baratheon. at six years old, you are aware that there is something different about his departure this time around, a sense of finality in the way he presses a stubbled kiss to the crown of your head that you cannot keep the fat tears from rolling down your cheeks as both mother and daughter wave off the royal fleet from the safety of dragonstone port, but you hide your quivering chin against the doll that still smells of soap and ink from his fingertips, already knowledgeable of your father’s discomfort around public ( and private ) displays of strong emotion.

it is this strong streak of independence that delays the detection of greyscale that begins as a small blister of blackened skin on the left side of your neck. as a rambunctious child, prone to exploring the depths of the castle and returning for dinner covered in cobwebs and soot from your adventures, it was not uncommon for the maids to miss a spot ( or several ) of dirt on your skin during your evening baths but when their duteous scrubbing does not dissolve the mark from your skin, the blister growing larger by the day, the castle maester is called in to inspect the cracked wound. what he finds sends a wave of panic throughout the island ─ greyscale is a concerning illness to discover but without the steady calm of the ruling lord, it rests in the hands of the maester to issue the following decrees as your mother falls into despair.

nothing is explained to you as you watch in frightened confusion when your room is stripped of comfortable linens and perishable books. you cannot understand why the maids, once so willing to carry you close to them whenever you would fall into a fit of frustrated tears, scurry away from your outstretched arms with a cry of panic. ( that is your first brush with clear rejection and it leaves you feeling hollow and full all at once, a conflicting ache that roots itself in your chest. ) you are locked in your childhood room as your belongings are thrown into a pile and burned in the castle courtyard in the hopes of staving off an outbreak but unbeknown to the castle occupants, the infection had already began to settle in the island. the maids ( the ones that had been wily enough to escape discovery and confinement ) had returned to the villages below, spreading the disease to their families and prompting a missive to be sent out to all the ports of westeros and beyond the narrow seas, warning sailors away from visiting the island and portmasters from accepting ships that came from dragonstone.

while you were made aware that death had visited the villages of the island, the people within these small settlements were not as fortunate as yourself to have a dedicated maester by their sides though you show no gratitude for the man’s efforts. what you are subjected to beneath his hands in the hopes that one of his experiments would eventually procure a solution is nothing less than medical torture though at six years old, you cannot understand why your mother is kept away, dragged from your door for her own safety whenever the heavy oak divider parts to unveil the masked maester ─ you are stretched out on a thin mattress, arms and legs tied to keep you from trashing about or scratching at the itchy spread of greyscale that only keeps growing larger and every evening, the maester peels back the scaled skin in the hopes of healing the red - raw flesh beneath the infection.

( your screams reverberate through the castle, muffled against the gag that is drenched with your saliva and that keeps you from biting down on your own tongue. your wails are echoed in the skies, each cry matched with a deafening clap of thunder as the storm rolls in, lightning brightening up the sky in flashes of white. the smallfolk of the island whisper rumors that speak of a stormsinger and curses, but most of them pray for the mercy of death, if recovery seems impossible. )

in the end, a savior comes in the form of your returning father, who had victoriously crushed the ironborn rebellion by commanding the royal fleet yet who is helpless in the face of such a devastating disease. out of the woods come the noble lords and well - meaning advisors, counseling him to send you away lest another outbreak occur ─ ❛ it is a kindness, ❜ they had murmured with a gentle remorse that held undertones of personal ambition, ❛ to yourself and to lady selyse. no parent should watch their child suffer thus. ❜ the tales of his outrage at their suggestions are told through your mother’s whispered reassurances. you are told that he sends these men away with the threat of death looming above their heads should they return and, when he learns of the experiments that the castle maester had been conducting on you without sanction from the citadel, he sends that man away as well, calling for the maester from his youth to attend to you.

maester cressen is an elderly man with soft, pruned fingers who sees no need to peel away the scales from your face. he presents to choice to you, as scarring it almost certain if the scales are not pulled off the skin routinely to allow new growth but you choose to leave them on, unwilling to bear the mindless pain and the restrains around your bruised wrists. you are too young to be concerned with vanity, only wanting the pain to stop. it is not that his methods hurt any less but you have a choice in how you want to proceed, the grandfatherly maester explaining his reasons and movements before he even touches you and after two years in isolation and under heavy observation, you are allowed out of your rooms, blinking rapidly at the onslaught of sunlight in your eyes.

the greyscale robs you of the sweetness of childhood and the accusing stares that you receive as your family walks through the villages below the castle steal what little is left of your blind trust, forcing you to hide behind the towering figure of your mother with a reclusiveness that had not been there prior to the illness. you are tall for your age at eight years old but it is not your height or fine, high collared clothing that draws attention to you but the harsh, black - grey spread of scales that begin at your neck and stretch all the way up to your left cheekbone, coming to a stop just beneath your eye. a small part of your left nostril is covered as well, making it more difficult for you to run around as you had before seeing as you were easily prone to breathlessness now but while your mother may want to keep you hidden and safe, it is maester cressen that drags you out of the shadows. though he has only known you for less than two years, he has witnessed your eagerness to appear older and more independent, possessing the same stubborn streak that your father had as a child and in entrusting you to assist him in his weekly rounds through the villages, he had succeeded in drawing you out of your shell, exposing you to the scared by healing island while acclimating the smallfolk to the scarred child that so many of them blamed for their misfortunes.

it proves to be impossible to remain wary of a child that was so timid yet so unabashedly curious and your darting figure, dressed in somber shades of browns and blacks, becomes a common sight among the smallfolk, followed by your towering guard. the children are the first to welcome you back into the fold, borderline rude questions going unstifled in spite of their parents’ apologies and it is just easier to talk openly about your scarring. it is much better than to endure the whispers and pointing behind your back, at least, and once they know what happened, the questions die down and you are simply a play companion, albeit more nobly bred.

maester cressen makes you read to him as he tends to the rope - rough palms of sailors and fishermen wives alike and you soon gather an audience of little followers, younger children who are eager to decipher the inky black wiggles on paper ─ after two years in isolation, you have a patience that not many others your age possess, fingers steadily pulling away grasping hands from the book that you drag along from dragonstone library to the marketplace, high - pitched voice drawing attention from your peers as you taught letters and words to the common children. there is little that your mother can find to complain about when it comes to your new friends, relieved that you are comfortable enough to return to some semblance of normalcy and begrudgingly accepting the presence of your guard when he follows your smaller footsteps from behind, his looming figure casting a shadow that keeps you out of the sun.

in the absence of your father, aurane waters becomes something of a paternal figure even when you shun the presence of almost all other men. ( your first meeting with your uncle robert after contacting greyscale goes as disastrously as imagined and it is to aurane that you run, dark brows knitting into an angry little furrow at the good - natured teasing from the king. ) if stannis feels any slight by your preference for the bastard of house velaryon, he says nothing of it and even permits you to pick up a sword beneath aurane’s watchful eye, monitoring your progression during his infrequent visits back home. you are a hard worker, stubbornness ingrained into your very sinews, and you rise back up every time you get knocked down until you are as unmovable as the dragonmont itself, limbs slender but strong enough to pick up a war hammer fashioned in the likeness of the one that had crushed rhaegar targaryen’s chest into pieces.

teaching the smallfolk ( for their parents soon join in, wishing to know what secrets their children write down and pass to each other over the dinner table ) soon becomes your duty, along with penning correspondences to the lords of westeros and the merchants across the narrow seas as maester cressen’s eyesight worsens by the year. by the time you are sixteen, you master the art of insulting a man over paper in flowery scripture and the ledgers of the castle are as familiar to you as the callouses on your fingertips ─ you might never be beautiful but the maester and your mother see that you are valuable in other ways that are more important than pleasant features and you find that you prefer being plain and free, rather than pretty and protected.

by the time your father returns to dragonstone in 298 a.c. following the death of jon arryn, you are rather settled in your role as his heir and future ruling lady of a small spit of land. you know and love your people and they love you but the thunderous addition of the formerly absent ruling lord heralds trouble for the island as your father brings almost all of the royal fleet with him, the foreboding war dromons and an assortment of other ships darkening the horizon. the days grow shorter and the evenings grow longer with your father brooding in his study and your mother cautions you away from disturbing him. from the whispers, you understand that he is upset with your uncle robert for some insult or another but it is not until he calls you into the room that holds the painted table of all of westeros, your mother twisting her hands together by his side, that you realize that the whispers were wrong.

you cannot be certain what gives him the audacity to think of claiming the throne, regardless of his birthright ─ a part of you blames the red woman that your mother finds and brings to the island to whisper poison in your father’s ear but when uncle robert dies, gored by a boar, you lean against him to subtly offer him the support of your shoulder, your sword and your mind, and breath a sigh of relief when he presses a reassuring hand to the back of your head, the touch brief but warm. war is for men and robert’s death cracks westeros open like an egg as the north rises against the westerlands and ned stark is arrested on the charge of treason but where king’s landing may see a rebel, you see opportunity in the northerners outrage at the disrespect shown towards their lord.

your mother does not wish for you to get involved with the politics of your father’s quiet ( for now ) campaign for the throne, driven to points of fanaticism in her sudden desire to produce a male heir for his legacy but he charges you with the king’s orders while he masquerades beneath a guise of loyalty in king’s landing nonetheless, to find and secure your uncle’s bastards to support his suspicions and his claims before the lannisters kill them all and though he does not ask, you are determined to reform his reputation as well ─ the red woman may believe him to be a messiah reborn but you know that even gods need their supporters and you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

plot points ⸻

locating the bastards : shireen has been entrusted with the task of locating, gathering and securing as many of robert baratheon’s bastards as possible. stannis knows of three which are mya stone, edric storm and gendry, and while mya and edric are safe for the moment, the disappearance of gendry is worrying especially after the massacre of the bastards in king’s landing following robert’s death. unbeknown to house baratheon of dragonstone, gendry is safe and potentially under the protection of house stark ─ if that is true, the northerners may use him as a bargaining chip to secure the support of stannis for a northern independency while also throwing their support behind stannis’ claim to the throne. beyond this, they need to follow the rumors of the other bastards while collecting edric and mya from the stormlands and the vale respectively.

right of succession : with stannis’ desire to locate the bastards to support his theory against the legitimacy of cersei’s children, shireen is understandably concerned that one of robert’s bastards may get it into their heads to try for the throne. while the laws of westeros will never put a bastard over them, renly baratheon is also pushing to be considered stannis’ heir over them and he does have a claim and the support of the storm lords behind him ─ if renly then chooses to legitimize edric storm and make him heir to the storm’s end, shireen will be robbed of their birthright to the throne and to the stormlands. they adore their family and edric, especially, owing to being cousins twice - over, they have made so many sacrifices already and will continue to do so in support of their father and while they would never demand payment or recognition for doing what they feel all children must do, the idea of stannis choosing renly over them or one of the bastards getting legitimized to inherit over them or both sits like an anchor in their belly. shireen is desperate for paternal approval and if this were to happen, it may be what breaks their resolve and potentially might send them in a downwards spiral of desperate betrayal to prove their worth.

team dragonstone’s pr manager : this is touched upon briefly above but out of all of team dragonstone, shireen and davos are perhaps the most friendly of the bunch. it is very likely that stannis’ return to king’s landing to ❛ support ❜ joffrey following a change of heart after robert’s death was an idea concocted by shireen to keep the ambitions of team dragonstone under wraps. they have been keeping up with correspondences to the lords and ladies of westeros, as well as the noblemen and merchants across the narrow seas and while their letters have been mostly trade talk owing to dragonstone being one of the main ports of the capital, shireen now has these names as acquaintances, at the very least. their challenge now is to push pass their reclusiveness to reach out to make new friends ─ it is not difficult, as they are generally very pleasant but their wariness and added pressure from keeping their father’s aspiring kingship a secret might prove to be a disastrous combination.

mini headcanons ⸻

shireen has a black raven called aegon, after aegon the unworthy, as it is a rather plump and pampered bird. it does not fly around very well and spends most of it’s time on their shoulder, cawing loudly or snapping a few choice words ─ fat aegon ( the bird ) repeats the same three cuss words and is known to fly at people that it doesn’t particularly like. for it’s own safety, fat aegon has been left behind in dragonstone for the time being.

shireen has been tutoring the smallfolk of dragonstone since the age of 12 and while most of their students are children, they do have two or three adults that pop in every - so - often. through their endeavors to make education more accessible to people, dragonstone has become a rather progressive island with half of the population being literate and they have used their allotted funds to start up a small school that is being ran by one of their childhood companions.

shireen was a member of the royal court from the ages of 18 - 20 ( 294 a.c - 296 a.c. ) where they served as myrcella’s lady - in - waiting but after an unfortunate encounter with joffrey where he attempted to corner them in order to inspect and pull off one of their greyscales, they returned back to dragonstone and swore off court. their uncle robert sent them a necklace that had belonged to their grandmother, cassana estermont, as an apology for his son and that insufficient punishment of the prince began to sour their father’s opinion of court, robert and joffrey.

shireen has inherited the gifts of a stormsinger and air mage from their ancestral blood relations to house durrandon which earned it’s beginnings from the union of the goddess elenei and durran godsgrief. these are not gifts known to them as their only display of stormsinger tendencies was as a child when their cries would often be followed by brief but violent storms. presently, their gift for air magic is more prominent albeit similarly untapped ─ it has become commonplace for winds to begin to pick up roughly whenever they are upset and their laughter is often followed by a gust of tickling air across the neck.

shireen discovered a calcified dragon egg when she was eleven in aegon’s garden in dragonstone. it was hidden beneath a cranberry bush and was likely laid by one of the last dragons on the island as it is no larger than a chicken egg. blood red in color with hints of white at the ends of each scale, the egg is usually tucked in a pocket or kept close to their heart as a good luck charm ─ it will never hatch.

more headcanons tba.

wanted plots ⸻

tba.

#oath.intro

6 notes · View notes

imaginarianisms · 3 months

Text

Sansa could still feel a sharp sting in her brow and crimson trickling down a freckled cheek as she'd begged the Hound to take her. A man had dragged her off her horse, hands grasping at her to do gods know what and leaving the mare to run astray into the crowd but the knight had made quick work of him and separated his hands from his wrists, eliciting a frightened shriek from the maiden before the Hound placed her in a nearby streetcorner. Once Clegane placed her on his shoulder with a gentle grip she'd never expected the knight to have, she squeaked at the rough feeling of iron against her belly, dainty hands grasping onto the man for dear life, giving her thanks.

If my father were here this never would have happened, she thought, shaking her head as she tried with every bone in her body not to weep. Sansa wanted to go home back at Winterfell now more than ever. She'd tried to convince the King to show mercy to the people, to that mother with the corpse of her dead baby, to no avail.

How are the Lannisters ever going to defeat Stannis when he comes to sack the city if the smallfolk already hate their King and the Queenmother? The Lannisters rode ahead without her, Joffrey's betrothed. They left me here. The thought sent a chill down her spine as her blood boiled. If Joff had listened to her, this never would've happened. Who else was left behind? Sansa's blue gaze flickered across the hellscape of the rioting city as the chants of the King's rivals filled the air with Stannis! Robb! Renly! then several men took turns bashing in Lord Santagar in until he was no longer recognizable and as the people tore apart the High Septon, and suddenly, Septa Mordane and her father's rotting heads burned in her brain causing her to scream in horror and look away in terror, eyes fluttering shut as she began to sob, the sting hurting more as she tried to hide her face in the Hound's stained white cloak.

Thoughts raced in her mind as she tried to count who else had been lost in the fray, the noise of thousands screaming including the High Septon dragged down screaming by the crazed crowd begging the gods for mercy as they literally tore him to pieces making it almost impossible to hear anything else and the scent of blood, gore, and flesh filling her nose to the point where it was overstimulating the girl. If she didn't find her horse soon, she could very easily meet the same fate as the High Septon or worse. She ducks her head down as she just misses a rock and an egg thrown at her.

❝Ser, what about my horse?! I'd be much safer on horseback with you guarding me, foolish Ser Mandon abandoned me! 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡?!❞ Sansa cried out hopefully loud enough so he was able to hear her despite the roar of the riot all around them, hands grasping at his cloak. She had been left behind, too. Her father had always told her to always look out for those in your retinue should they get lost.

Then, the scent of smoke and flame caught her nose, a gasp leaving her lips.

❝Be careful, ser, a fire's started!❞ The Stark girl made sure to warn him, knowing all too well how he felt about the flames and not wanting the knight to get hurt.

She squints as she tries to find her horse before a gasp leaves her, the chestnut mare dashing down the street and trying to avoid the crazed crowd, neighing in distress, ❝There it is, ser!❞ she told the Hound, pointing at it. ❝We can make it if we're quick!❞

@asoulunbound || src.

#sansa stark. || ic.#interactions; sandor clegane.#dynamic; sansa & sandor.#asoulunbound #v; a clash of kings.#/ gore #/ cannibalism #/ child death #ppl are wildin out LMAOOOOO also im so sorry sandor she's using your cloak as a napkin ALGJAGLGAJGALJAGGJL #anyway HIIIIII <3333 it's rly interesting bc we never actually get a sansa pov in the riots of king's landing in the books so here we are !

1 note · View note

mkstrigidae · 2 years

Note

I hope I'm not being too forward, but would it be possible for you to post a snippet of your Roomates Jonsa AU?

It's never too forward to ask nicely like this! 😊💕 It's pretty rough, but here's a few pieces of it!

(Note that this takes place in a universe where the various Baratheon Bastards™ (they made t-shirts last thanksgiving to wear that made Cersei's teeth grind so hard that it cost several thousand in dental work, that Renly insisted on including in the group pictures because he was crying laughing, and made Ned laugh so hard that Catelyn was genuinely concerned about him. Stannis saw them, said nothing, and immediately went into the other room to down two glasses of whiskey. It was a shitshow and Selyse was completely scandalized, but of course Bobby B. didn't give a shit and was too busy sneaking Shireen, Tommen, and Myrcella alcohol to really notice her.) are aware of each other and have like, actual sibling relationships and a group chat and are 100% ride or die for the Stark girls. Also Mya's mom loves them all and has all but adopted Gendry).

“Hello?” Jon barely registered Arya answering her phone, too busy trying to finish the chili he was making without burning it this time. Tormund had never let him live it down the first time. His attention was suddenly jerked away from the stove when he heard Arya’s tone change.

“Sansa- San- slow down-“ Arya’s eyes widened as she stood up from the couch to pace around the living room, “he did what?” Jon saw Arya’s fists clench. “I’m going to kill him.”

This caught Jon’s attention fully. Arya on the phone, threatening someone indiscriminately, probably meant that she and Sansa were talking about Sansa’s jackass of a boyfriend, Harry Hardying. Jon had met him once, and as far as he was concerned, it had been one time too many.

“Is she okay?” he mouthed to Arya, who still looked furious. She shut her eyes, shaking her head in frustration.

“Okay- what do you mean, ‘don’t tell Robb’?” Arya practically growled, eyes flashing. “Of course I’m gonna tell Robb- shit, Sansa- are you crying?”

Jon was ready to drive to Gulltown that second, especially if that jackass had made Sansa cry again. He could understand why she didn’t want Robb to know, though- he had been friends with the oldest Stark since they were kids, and Robb was notoriously protective of his sisters.

He saw Arya wince, and then she was nodding, and her tone had grown softer.

“Okay- look- I’m sorry, okay? This isn’t your fault, San-“ she broke off, nodding still as she pinched her forehead, “Look, do you have somewhere to stay at least?”

Jon felt like he was about to vibrate out of his skin as Tormund slammed open the door, announcing his arrival in the same booming voice he always used.

“Shut up!” Arya hissed to the redhead, who looked at Jon, who just shook his head tiredly.

“Something’s going on with Sansa.“ he muttered, as Tormund came into the kitchen, dropping the groceries Jon had texted him to pick up unceremoniously on the counter and grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“Is Red okay?” he asked, as quietly as was possible for Tormund, taking a swig of the beer.

“I’m not sure.” Jon shook his head. “I think it’s Hardying again.”

“That fucker.” Tormund spat. “She could do better.”

Jon didn’t disagree.

“Okay, look-“ he heard Arya tell Sansa on the phone, having missed the last few minutes of their conversation, “Giantsbane just got home- I’ll talk to them about it- you know it isn’t any trouble- don’t even try that. Just- go eat something and I’ll call you back as soon as I talk to them, okay?” she gave a tired smile. “Tell Ms. Stone I said hi.”

Arya hung up the phone, turning to look at the two men in the kitchen who were desperately trying to pretend they hadn’t been listening in.

“Is she okay?” Jon asked, not bothering to stand on pretense. Arya gave a long sigh, scrubbing at her face.

“Sansa’s having a pretty shitty week, apparently.” She told them, eyeing the kitchen. “Can we eat while we talk about it? I’m fucking starving.”

Jon swore, immediately rushing to check the chili, and sighed with relief when he saw it wasn’t burned. Tormund laughed, slapping him on the back.

“Looks decent for once!”

“Shut up.” Jon grumbled, grabbing bowls. “Did you at least remember to get sour cream? Last time you came back with beer and shit else.”

“What’s going on with your sister, Stark?” Tormund asked, as soon as they were all sitting. Arya sighed, dropping her spoon back into her chili and resting her head in her hands.

“She and Hardying have been fighting a lot lately-“ Arya told them, “-you know how San was planning to move up here to do her doctoral research at White Harbor?”

“Was?” Jon asked, immediately concerned.

“Just lemme finish.” Arya groaned. “She’s still moving up here- but she might have to do it sooner than later. She and Hardying had a fairly explosive fight a few days ago-apparently he got pretty nasty- and Sansa was pretty upset, but she said they had talked about it, and were trying to work things out. Then she gets back from work earlier today, because it was her last day, and finds him fucking another girl on their bed-“ Jon hissed, and Tormund swore, “-and instead of trying to apologize for it, he was a complete dick and blamed the whole thing on her, and how she’s not paying him enough attention or some shit- I don’t know.” She growled.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” Jon muttered.

“Yeah, get in line.” Arya scoffed. “the bastard is lucky that Mya’s still doing that master's program in Lannisport, or I think she’d have kicked his ass first.”

“So where is she staying?” Jon asked.

“With Mya’s mom for a few days.” Arya shoveled a bite of chili into her mouth. “Christ, Jon you really didn’t skimp with the cayenne pepper, did you?”

“I’ll make you the blandest meal I can imagine the next time it’s my turn to cook.” Jon deadpanned. “Getting back to Sansa, though?”

“Yeah, she apparently called the girl who she was planning on rooming with a bit earlier, to see if she could move in early, and apparently the bitch changed her mind, and is planning on living with her new boyfriend instead.” Arya spat. “So Sansa’s really upset about Hardying, and as Sansa usually does, is shoving all of that down and channeling all her anxiety into logistics and trying to find a place to live up here.”

“That’s gonna be next to impossible.” Tormund scoffed, shaking his head. He crossed his arms, and glanced over at Jon, whose mind was racing. “Fall semester’s about to start-“ he stopped, something dawning on his face.

“Sam’s moving out next week.” Jon quietly pointed out, something like hope blooming in his chest.

“Yeah-“ Arya deflated a bit, looking relieved they suggested it first, “that’s what I told her- I mean, it’s Sansa, so she keeps going on about how she doesn’t want to burden any of us, so I had to promise her I would talk to you guys about it first.”

“It makes perfect sense.” Jon pointed out, trying not to sound too enthusiastic about the prospect. From the look Tormund gave him, he wasn’t entirely succeeding. “We haven’t found someone to let Sam’s room yet-“

“They’ve all been fucking weirdos.” Arya scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as Tormund nodded in agreement. “The last guy who came to look at the place wouldn’t shut up about his stupid keto diet, and the guy before that was into crossfit, and was a complete jackass. Sansa’s like, obsessively clean and has way too many throw pillows, but she’s pretty easy to live with.” She narrowed her eyes at jon. “If you tell her I said that, I’ll tell mum that it was you and robb who broke that window last new year’s.”

“I’m not going to say anything.” Jon muttered, feeling a headache coming on. “Wait- I thought you were the one who broke it?”

“Bran.” Arya replied, shrugging, as Jon swore. “One innocent look and mum never suspected a thing.”

“Little fucker.” Jon muttered, half affectionately, as he gave Ghost a piece of cornbread under the table.

“What do you guys think, though?” Arya sounded almost anxious. Jon softened a bit. The sisters were diametric opposites, and had fought like wild animals as children, but he knew how much they both cared for the other, and he had heard Arya worrying about Sansa and her increasingly dysfunctional relationship with Hardyng for the last few months.

“I’m fine with it.” Tormund leaned back, relaxed, in his chair. “I like Red- she can move in tomorrow as far as I’m concerned.”

“Arya, you know I’m more than fine with it.” Jon told her, softly. Tormund chuckled, and Jon shot him a glare.

“You’re not exactly subtle, mate.” He pointed out. “Your ears perk up like the dog’s when you hear her name.”

Arya rolled her eyes.

“I’m fairly certain there are hermits in the Yukon who know about Jon’s little crush. Hell- Robb knows- you got drunk and whined about how Sansa deserved better than Harry for like two hours the last time he visited.”

“Was I wrong?” Jon demanded.

“Of course not.” Arya waved him off. “And hey-“ she grinned, mischievously, “You’ll have plenty of time to show her that when she moves in.”

Jon let his head fall to the table with a thunk as he groaned. It was a bit hard to feel sorry for himself while Tormund was in the background, braying like a fucking hyena.

“Okay, so here’s the deal.” Arya announced, throwing her bag to the ground and falling on the couch next to Ghost, whose tail promptly began thumping happily as she squished in next to him. “Sansa’s moving in on Thursday- can you two help her carry furniture?”

“Of course.” Jon answered, automatically. “Isn’t Gendry coming up on Wednesday too?”

“Yeah, he didn’t want to buy a plane ticket, so he’s driving up from King’s Landing for some reason-“ Arya rolled her eyes, “and so he’s going to pick Sansa up in Gulltown and help her get the last of her things from Hardying’s apartment, because Mya was pissed that she couldn’t be there to glare the little shit into submission, and Gendry was apparently pretty pissed on Sansa’s behalf when Mya called him, so he's going to do the glaring and threatening- although Sansa doesn't know that part yet.” She scratched ghost’s ears. “So she’ll be here on Wednesday, and then her stuff is getting here Thursday. Gendry’s bringing an air mattress so she won’t have to sleep on the couch before her bed gets here.”

Jon already couldn't wait.

#ask answers #jonsa #is 'my writing' a banned tag?#i haven't been keeping up #ugh #emily's writing #i guess????#anyways i love that mya was like 'i can't be there to glare at him'#and gendry's like 'i got u sis'#I love mya so much of COURSE she's in this

23 notes · View notes

butterflies-dragons · 3 years

Note

It seems like Sansa meeting Hound, a man burnt by fire, is foreshadowing for her meeting the Vale clansmen named Painted Dogs and Burned Men.

And another Vale Clan is called: "Stone Crows...."

Oh Anon, Sansa has already known a young (he's not even 20) leader (aka Red Hand) of the Burned Men called Timett, he is known as Timett son of Timett and Timett One-Eye... Because he misses his left eye...

Timett followed Tyrion to KL's court and served him as one of his bodyguards during his time as Hand of the King.

Ser Boros Blount harrumphed. "No man threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard."

Tyrion Lannister raised an eyebrow. "I am not threatening the king, ser, I am educating my nephew. Bronn, Timett, the next time Ser Boros opens his mouth, kill him." The dwarf smiled. "Now that was a threat, ser. See the difference?"

Ser Boros turned a dark shade of red. "The queen will hear of this!"

(...) "Fear is better than love, Mother says." Joffrey pointed at Sansa. "She fears me."

The Imp sighed. "Yes, I see. A pity Stannis and Renly aren't twelve-year-old girls as well. Bronn, Timett, bring her."

Sansa moved as if in a dream. She thought the Imp's men would take her back to her bedchamber in Maegor's Holdfast, but instead they conducted her to the Tower of the Hand. She had not set foot inside that place since the day her father fell from grace, and it made her feel faint to climb those steps again.

(...) It was as if her face were an open book, so easily did the dwarf read her hopes. "Do not take Oxcross too much to heart, my lady," he told her, not unkindly. "A battle is not a war, and my lord father is assuredly not my uncle Stafford. The next time you visit the godswood, pray that your brother has the wisdom to bend the knee. Once the north returns to the king's peace, I mean to send you home." He hopped down off the window seat and said, "You may sleep here tonight. I'll give you some of my own men as a guard, some Stone Crows perhaps—"

"No," Sansa blurted out, aghast. If she was locked in the Tower of the Hand, guarded by the dwarf's men, how would Ser Dontos ever spirit her away to freedom?

"Would you prefer Black Ears? I'll give you Chella if a woman would make you more at ease."

"Please, no, my lord, the wildlings frighten me."

He grinned. "Me as well. But more to the point, they frighten Joffrey and that nest of sly vipers and lickspittle dogs he calls a Kingsguard. With Chella or Timett by your side, no one would dare offer you harm."

"I would sooner return to my own bed." A lie came to her suddenly, but it seemed so right that she blurted it out at once. "This tower was where my father's men were slain. Their ghosts would give me terrible dreams, and I would see their blood wherever I looked."

Tyrion Lannister studied her face. "I am no stranger to nightmares, Sansa. Perhaps you are wiser than I knew. Permit me at least to escort you safely back to your own chambers."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

So it is probable that Sansa would recognize Timett later, and vice versa.

Timett reminds me more of Jon Snow than any other character:

Both are young

Both are leaders

Both know Tyrion Lannister.

Both have an injured/severed left eye

Timett son of Timett sounds like Jon Snow bastard son of Eddard Stark. While Timett has the same name of his father, Jon has the same face of "his father."

Timmet is considered a wildling, Jon is considered a wildling.

Timett is a Red Hand, red hand sounds like burned hand, Jon has a burned hand. And imagine if the black brothers attempt to burn Jon's corpse by fire and Jon remains unharmed.... he will be a burned man as well....

Timett burned out his left eye and is called one-eye; Jon has a lot of one-eye imagery and one of his ancestors was Jonnel Stark also known as Jonnel One-Eye, he was Lord of Winterfell by marrying his niece Sansa Stark....

A YOUNG RED HAND OF THE BURNED MEN KNOWN AS TIMETT ONE-EYE!!! cc @istumpysk

#anon asks #jonsa #timett son of timett #timett one-eye

66 notes · View notes

ddagent · 3 years

Note

I'm not a greedy person DD, I swear. But now you got me yearning for a scene where Tywin puts 2 and 2 together once he learns Oathkeeper is gone. Like maybe everyone expected for him to be like "fetch me that woman's head"; instead he's sending a raven to Tarth, with a marriage proposal in Jaime's name.

So, part of follow-up February is going back through old prompts; some of them submitted weeks, months – maybe even a year ago! This one called to me as I’m in a Lannister-family mood. I hope you enjoy it, Anon!

The capital was in disarray. King Joffrey was dead. His uncle, Jaime’s brother, had been accused of his murder. The King’s Hand, Jaime’s father, had disappeared from King’s Landing on urgent business. No one knew where Tywin Lannister was. All Jaime knew was that he had been called into his father’s study, Tywin’s gaze had narrowed on the sword at his hip, and then he’d left suddenly, leaving Uncle Kevan in charge.

“Ser Jaime, your father wishes to see you.”

The lion has returned. Jaime merely nodded at the young squire and made his way through the halls of the Red Keep. Hopefully, they were to discuss Tyrion’s trial. He knew that Tyrion wasn’t responsible for Joffrey’s murder; convincing his father and sister of that fact would be more difficult than learning how to fight again. Still, he had hope as he entered the Tower of the Hand. Hope that died when it saw the sword sitting atop his father’s desk.

Oathkeeper.

“Missing something?”

Tywin Lannister emerged from the shadows and planted himself on the throne behind the desk. His gaze lingered on the Valyrian steel blade before turning his attentions to Jaime. His father was watching him, weighing up Jaime’s reaction to the sudden appearance of the sword. Jaime just froze. He’d handed Brienne that sword; had placed his faith and trust and honour in her. And here was the sword. No Brienne. Where’s Brienne, Father?”

“Father—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Tywin began, leaning back in his chair. “It’s clear what happened. You trusted someone outside the family because she brought you back to King’s Landing. But Lady Tarth is loyal to the Baratheons and the Starks. It’s why she stole your sword and absconded from the city. It’s why she murdered Joffrey. It’s why—”

Jaime’s head snapped up. “Brienne did not kill Joffrey. Believe me, Father, if she wanted to kill you, she’d do it with a sword, not poison in a cup.”

“But she did steal your sword.” Jaime opened his mouth to protest again, but Tywin waved him away. “She stole your sword. And you, being the honourable idiot that you are, did not tell anyone about this grievous theft until she had already left King’s Landing. Luckily for you, I noticed the absence of the sword and her disappearance and managed to piece it together.”

“You’re wrong.”

Tywin raised a single eyebrow. “Am I? Because my men tracked her down along the King’s Road, and when I rode out to confront her, she had your sword. Along with Tyrion’s former squire, a horse, and a custom-made set of blue armour.”

Jaime crossed to the desk. His fingertips hovered above the sword; above the blade he had placed into Brienne’s hands. Oathkeeper. For both of them: a knight who had long stopped believing in honour and a knight who thought there might still be some left in the world. He should have given her the blade and kept the scabbard. He should have come up with some mummer’s farce about being jumped by the assailants that had poisoned Joffrey.

He should have gone with her.

“Where’s Brienne now?”

Tywin stared straight through him. “Lady Tarth is a thief. She stole from the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. What do you believe I did with her?”

His brother was the smartest of the Lannister siblings. His sister thought she was the smartest but could only see one move ahead while Tyrion could see three. Their father outstripped them both in intelligence and ruthlessness. Jaime was just a knight. He knew when to feint; when to charge. He knew when his opponent was leading him into a trap, and he knew when there was no fight left. Watching his father, Jaime knew that this was all a game to reveal his underbelly.

What is this woman to you?

Jaime took the seat in front of Oathkeeper. “Lady Brienne Tarth, despite her dubious alliances, is the only heir of Lord Selwyn Tarth. The remaining Stormlands lords look to him for guidance with Renly dead and Stannis...wherever Stannis is. You wouldn’t have killed a highborn woman, and you don’t truly suspect her of stealing my sword. Not when, I’m sure, Brienne told you that I gave it to her.”

The corner of Tywin’s mouth twitched. “She did.”

“You know what it means that I gave it to Brienne.”

“You care for her. Deeply.” His father would never do something so unseemly as squirm, but he was not impressed that Jaime had ruined his little game. “If your events on the road had not convinced me, your handing over a Valyrian steel sword was enough.”

“I see. So why disappear from King’s Landing? Why track her down on the King’s Road? Did you want the sword back so badly?”

Tywin pursed his lips. “I wanted to offer her the position of Lady of Casterly Rock.” Jaime’s eyes widened. “You cannot think I would ignore the first woman you have ever shown any feelings towards. I offered her your hand. She refused. Thankfully, her father saw better sense.”

It was then that Jaime caught sight of the letters scattering his father’s desk. On all of them was a blue wax seal with a moon and a starburst. “Apparently, Lady Brienne wrote to her father during her last stay in the capital. She mentioned you. Often.”

“She–she did?” Jaime said, a hopeful lilt to his voice that he instantly loathed himself for. He tried to glance upon Lord Selwyn’s letters, but his father shuffled them into a pile.

Tywin shook his head at his behaviour. “If you want the woman, Jaime, go get her. I will not sit here and watch you moon over a highborn woman when you both could be wed.”

Drawing in a breath, Jaime pushed down his feelings: the turmoil over the possibility of Brienne being harmed; the flutter of a future together. “Brienne won’t agree. She swore an oath to Lady Stark.”

His father’s sigh was deafening. “Lady Tarth has already agreed to marry you. Considering your disfigurement, that bloody cloak, and the ugly rumours concerning you and your sister, I was quite happy to agree to her demands.” Tywin paused. “After you both are wed, you shall track down your brother’s wife and bring her to stay with you at Casterly Rock. Sansa and your brother will both stay there. It’s best that Tyrion leave the capital, even now that Lord Bolton has been found guilty of Joffrey’s murder.”

What? “Lord Bolton?”

“Yes. Apparently, he kidnapped Sansa with the intention of marrying her off to his bastard son and claiming the North for himself. He poisoned Joffrey as a distraction. We will collect his head in due time. The other one of your intended’s requests has already been met by my man in Winterfell.”

“And what was that?”

Tywin pointed in the direction of a wooden casket on a nearby table. Jaime rose from his seat and lifted the lid. In a bed of straw lay a severed head, the eyes wide and white. Jaime had hoped to never see that face again after leaving Harrenhal, although he’d entertained daydreams of doing the deed himself. His golden hand to club him; his left hand to thrust a sword in his belly. Jaime would have to find a new daydream now that Locke was dead.

Closing the lid of the casket, he realised that would not be a problem.

“Lady Tarth is waiting with her squire in the gardens overlooking Blackwater Bay. I would suggest you go to her.” Jaime nodded and moved to leave, still in a daze from all that had happened. “And don’t forget her sword. She’s a Lannister, now, after all.”

Jaime waited until he was outside before he smiled.

#Anonymous #braime #jaime x brienne #ship: braime #mine: paragraph prompts #i'm not sure how good this is I'm sorry

121 notes · View notes

litwitlady · 4 years

Text

to make the desert bloom

The first time Michael pawns off a few feet of stolen copper wire he makes $68. He’s been totally swindled - the wire easily worth more than double that. But it’s enough to pay the remainder on his cell phone bill so he’s thrilled with the transaction.

A few months later Michael risks stealing a small spool of wire. He’s wised up about the wire’s worth, but still accepts a criminally low cash offer. But alongside the cash, he’s also negotiated a broken power drill. He has it fixed within the hour and that’s how his tool collection starts.

Word gets around about the kid who practically gives away copper for nothing more than a few crumpled bills and some rusty old tools. Michael happily accepts broken wrenches, bent screwdrivers, and even a table saw with the cord cut off. He makes enough money to put gas in his truck and keep food on his table. And collects enough tools to supplement his income with various side-gigs.

By his twenty-first birthday, he’s even got $400 saved in his new bank account. His crime completely victimless, as far as he’s concerned. Old Man Sanders never once showing any interest in the piles of copper in the makeshift garage shed. What Sanders doesn’t miss can’t hurt him. And what Sanders doesn’t miss has saved Michael’s life on more than one occasion.

No one but his customers are aware of his scheme. A conman playing easily into the hands of lesser grifters. Until the day he overspends on one of Isobel’s birthday gifts.

She opens the newspaper wrapped box and immediately shoves the gift back into Michael’s chest. ‘You’re stealing now?’

He frowns down at the handwoven scarf. Realizes his mistake. And sighs. Because yes, he’s stealing now.

‘It’s not a big deal, Iz. Just some copper wire no one’s going to miss.’ He tries to give the scarf back to her, but she folds her arms across her chest and levels him with her deadliest glare.

‘Return the scarf, Michael. Give the money back to whoever you stole the wire from.’ Her face softens and she reaches out for his knee. ‘If you need money, I have more than I know what to do with. And we’re family.’

He kisses her cheek, shrugging off her offer. ‘I’ll be okay.’

She settles against him, interlocking their elbows and leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘You know I love you, right?’

‘I know. Me too.’ And it’s the truth. But he’ll never take her money.

That’s the last time he steals anything from Sanders for a long time. Until Alex Manes comes barrelling back into his life after his longest absence yet.

They crash back together like always. Shacking up in his trailer for hours at a time, rediscovering each other’s bodies. And Michael allows himself to believe that they will finally make it happen this time. But then Isobel arrives with a bag of bagels and wakes him from his dream.

Once he’s able to shoo her away, he watches Alex practically fall out of the airstream in his haste to get away. Michael holds up the bag of bagels, but Alex shrugs him off and climbs into his Explorer. The engine whines - needing a new timing belt - as he flees from the junkyard.

Michael eats all six bagels and then steals the largest spool of copper he can find. It’s almost like he wants Alex to catch him. You’re wasting your life, Guerin on a constant loop inside his head.

And maybe he is. Wasting his life. On a boy he’ll never be good enough for.

That night at the drive-in he plays out the final act of their charade. Stupid alien movie and grease-soaked food, hands brushing accidentally as they both grab for a new beer with the anticipation of sex heavy between them.

A dance with Jesse Manes.

A trade with Renly Thomas.

He makes the most he’s ever made that night. Almost twice what the copper is worth. But he ends the evening in red regardless.

Eventually, he confesses the whole scheme to Sanders. Promising to pay him back. Sanders turns down the offer, but Michael starts saving the money anyway. It’s what he imagines his mother would expect of him.

He starts taking classes at Roswell Tech. He stops drinking.

One night, a recently single Alex sits on the stool next to him at the Pony. Leans his elbow on the bartop and turns to Michael. ‘I need a favor.’

Michael drops his hat onto the bartop and snorts. Raises his glass of water to his lips but doesn’t drink. ‘A favor?’

Alex scratches at a divot in the chipped wood bar. Avoiding Michael’s gaze. ‘I need a few feet of copper wire.’

He’s convinced he’s heard him wrong. ‘What?’

‘Three feet. Three feet of copper wire. Heard you were the guy to talk to.’ His lips quirk up at the corner. And Michael suspects he’s being played.

‘Fuck off, Alex.’ There’s no bite in his words, just a sad sort of ruefulness. He slides off his seat and drops his hat back on his head. ‘You can afford to buy your own copper.’

He stalks out of the bar, too sober to stay and argue with an ex who will always be more than an ex.

The sky is dark and near moonless. Broken glass splinters beneath his boots. A couple arguing loudly distracts him as he walks out to his truck parked near the highway. Unaware that he’s being followed.

When he finally looks up, he stops dead in his tracks. A large dark object sits in the bed of his truck. And it definitely wasn’t there when he’d last climbed out of the Chevy.

He squints, trying to make out what the object could be without getting any closer. But it’s no use. A voice from behind startles him.

‘Won’t work without the wire.’

Alex.

Michael sighs and turns to him. ‘What won’t work?’

‘The sign I made.’ He motions to the back of Michael’s truck. ‘Electrical connections aren’t complete yet. Guess you’ll have to take it home and fix that.’ He hands Michael a brand new reel of copper wire. ‘Let me know how it goes.’

Michael gives him the dirtiest side-eye. But Alex only laughs and turns away. Michael ignores whatever the sign is and slides behind the steering wheel. Riding back to the junkyard in silence.

He sits inside his trailer for a long time. Doing his best to ignore what’s still in his truck. It only works for an hour before he’s back outside and threading the wire through the back of the oak sign. Completing all the electrical connections and yawning through several dramatic sighs.

Once the wiring is finished, he plugs the cord into his power pack and watches as a soft neon glow lights up the night. He stays behind the sign. Protecting himself from whatever it says.

At some point, Isobel arrives. Walks slowly towards him, purples and blues lighting up her face - brow deeply furrowed. ‘Um, Michael? Is there something you want to tell me?’ She motions to the sign and his fear increases tenfold.

He shakes his head, hops up onto the worktable behind him, and carelessly swings his legs back and forth. Trying for nonchalance. ‘Nope. Just fixing Alex’s sign.’

Her mouth falls agape and her eyes go wide. ‘Alex made this?’

Michael nods.

‘How the fuck are you this calm?’ She’s frantically waving her arms in a decidedly un-Isobel like fashion.

‘Don’t care what it says.’ He’s nervous though. Slips off the table and grabs the leftover copper. It’s probably more than what he stole in the first place. Tosses it onto Sanders’ stack. Suddenly very suspicious about Alex’s intentions.

‘Michael. Come here, right now.’ Her arms are crossed. Death glare back in place. But then she dissolves into high-pitched giggles and he’s never felt a fear so great in all his life.

He bites the bullet and goes to stand beside her. The first thing he notices is how pretty the lights are - pastel neons with a haunting glow. Very reminiscent of the alien tech on his console.

The words take a minute to form in his mind. He struggles with them. Blinks rapidly several times. Shakes his head and tries again. But each time he lands on the same phrase.

MARRY ME.

‘It’s a joke right? Gotta be.’ Michael swallows hard and stares at the words until they grow fuzzy, losing all meaning. ‘We’re not even dating, Iz.’

Isobel wraps her arm around him and hugs him close. ‘I think you’ve been dating since you were seventeen. Maybe not in the conventional sense - but dating all the same.’ She sighs at the romance of it all. ‘And now he wants more than that.’ She pinches his ribs.

‘Ow! What was that for?’

‘I can already hear you trying to find some reason to reject him. I will not let you ruin this for me, Michael. Do you understand me? I have a wedding to plan.’ She pulls out her phone and starts flipping through her calendar. ‘Spring or fall?’

Michael rolls his eyes and turns at the sound of tires on gravel. Isobel squeals when she recognizes Alex’s Explorer. Michael’s heart starts to race.

Alex climbs out slowly. Eyeing the sign over Michael’s shoulder. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’ As if that’s all the explanation required. ‘Phone was too quiet.’

Isobel flies into Alex’s arms, nearly knocking him over. But his eyes never leave Michael’s.

‘Give him some space, Isobel.’ She pulls away and looks back and forth between the two of them. Smiling so wide it’s contagious. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’ She kisses both of them on the cheek and leaves them to their fate.

She stays up all night preparing mood boards.

Back at the junkyard, Alex shoves his hands into his pockets. Feeling naked under Michael’s intense gaze. He waits anxiously for Michael to say something - to say anything.

‘I guess I just don’t understand. Where did this suddenly come from?’ Michael leans against an old junker, watching Alex fidget.

‘Honestly?’ He looks up at the stars and then back down to Michael. ‘I’ve been sort of miserable lately. And one day I looked at my reflection in the mirror and asked myself why.’ He shrugs his shoulders and laughs softly. ‘Got dressed and went to the hardware store.’

Michael studies the perfectly formed tube lights. ‘Quite the talent you got there. And completely new to me.’

Alex grins, his anxiety easing a bit. ‘I had help.’

‘And this isn’t a joke?’

‘Not a joke. Not remotely a joke.’ He takes several steps towards Michael. Stopping an arm’s length away. ‘I don’t mean tomorrow. Or next month. Hell, maybe not even next year. But one day. When we’re both ready. That’s what I want.’

Michael nods and pushes off the junker. Now only half an arm’s length away. He looks back at the sign. ‘I’m ready whenever you are.’ Drags his eyes slowly back to Alex.

They smile at each other, still able to blush after all these years. And regardless of who moves first, they both land in one another’s arms. Haloed by the sign’s luminescent proposal.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #trash fluff

147 notes · View notes

turtle-paced · 4 years

Text

Revisiting Chapters: Brienne VIII, AFFC

This post is also available on my wordpress.

The story so far…

Having done what a true knight does and saved the children at the Inn, a wounded Brienne is taken to receive her just reward. The catch being it’s Lady Stoneheart’s idea of just.

Fever Dreams

The chapter starts with Brienne incapacitated. Aside from the fact that someone’s tied her up (so tightly that it cuts into her wrists, we find out later) and slung her across a horse, she’s very much not well. She’s in a lot of pain and she doesn’t understand what’s going on. Pod’s somewhere in the background.

Cue successions of horrible dreams, swapping back and forth with reality. Brienne revisits the bear pit, calling out for Jaime, and then for a maester. She dreams of Renly’s murder and Vargo Hoat with an infected ear. She replays the fight at the Whispers and loses, because she cannot fight without the magic sword Jaime gave her.

The reader understands as Brienne does not at this point that what’s going on around Brienne is very, very bad for her. When Brienne mistakes a girl who speaks to her for Sansa, a man nearby laughs. Some time afterwards, she’s moved and given medicine. The girl administering said medicine gives us a rundown of Brienne’s injuries. Aside from the nasty wound on her face from Biter’s bites, she’s got a broken arm and some cracked ribs.

Brienne’s with it long enough to hear the confirmation that yes, Gendry killed Biter at the end of the previous chapter. The girl treating her is definitely not Sansa Stark, though. Instead, she appears to be the innkeeper, now revealed to be Jeyne Heddle (and her sister, back at the inn, is Willow Heddle). Her status as a prisoner is confirmed by a dark-haired man Brienne keeps mistaking for Renly (it’s Gendry). She’s being taken to Lady Stoneheart.

“M’lady means to make you answer for your crimes.”

Ominous! Brienne is quite sensibly afraid. She asks after Pod and Ser Hyle, though she also thinks that Septon Meribald and his dog are there. That’s about the end of that bout with lucidity. Next up, she’s taken across a river. No Gendry, he’s gone back to the Inn to protect the children. A man in a yellow cloak and wearing the Hound’s helm threatens to kill Brienne.

Finally, Brienne dreams of her encounter with Ronnet Connington. Her father promises to bring her a rose, but Brienne needs a sword. She bites her own tongue off in her nervousness, spits it out to lie next to the useless rose, and as her dream suitor expresses his digust with her, Ronnet turns to Jaime.

The overarching themes of Brienne’s dreams here are sex and romance, violence, and failure. Each of Brienne’s dreams ends with her failing in some way - to win a fight, to protect Renly, to even speak. In several of her dreams, she’s missing her sword and wants it back. This particular bit I find particularly telling:

“He will bring a rose for you,” her father promised her, but a rose was no good, a rose could not keep her safe. It was a sword she wanted. Oathkeeper. I have to find the girl. I have to find his honour.

While it’s a sweet notion, it also makes me sad. The only person who can find Jaime’s honour is Jaime. It also shows us how Brienne has come to see her quest - not just for Catelyn, but for Jaime as well.It’s not hard to see how the recent events of Brienne’s life have resulted in this traumatic mishmash of images. I don’t think they’re prophetic in any way, just reflecting her own rather poor state of mind. She feels like she’s failed, and she feels helpless.

The Broken Brotherhood

The first sign that this is, for sure, the Brotherhood Without Banners again is the presence of this man:

One of the shadow men shoved the girl aside. He was clad in rusted rings and a studded belt. At his hip hung longsword and dirk. A yellow greatcoat was plastered to his shoulders, sodden and filthy. From his shoulders rose a steel dog’s head, its teeth bared in a snarl.

Lem Lemoncloak. Compare to his first good description in Arya II, ASoS, where his armour is steel but not rusty and his cloak is only worn and stained instead of absolutely filthy.

The fact that the Brotherhood Without Banners has been taken over by undead Catelyn Stark was the subject of the epilogue of ASoS. As GRRM does with the epilogues, though, that was a one-off PoV character who doesn’t survive his experience with perspective voice. It’s a reveal for the readers. This is the internal reveal to our surviving and continuing PoV characters. Not the big reveal yet. But part of it.

Lem says that they’ll be hanging Brienne, to which she protests that she should have been covered by guest right, back at the inn.

“Guest right don’t mean so much as it used to,” said the girl. “Not since m’lady came back from the wedding. Some o’ them swinging down by the river figured they was guests too.”

This is not the same band that was doing their best to protect the peasants of the Riverlands. This tells us that nothing is sacred in how this new Brotherhood pursues their revenge against the Freys and Lannisters. Brienne, being ill, conks out again and doesn’t wake up for a while.

She wakes up again in what’s basically a grave.

The air was cold and heavy, and smelled of earth and worms and mold. She was lying on a pallet beneath a mound of sheepskins, with rock above her head and roots poking through the walls. The only light came from a tallow candle, smoking in a pool of melted wax.

And if that wasn’t making the point enough:

The flickering light cast queer shadows. Shadows of the slain, she thought, dancing all about me, hiding when I turn to look at them. Everywhere she saw holes and cracks and crevices, but there was no way to know which passages led out, which would take her deeper into the cave, and which went nowhere. All were black as pitch.

Brienne’s not alone down here; there’s an “old grey man” in rags as well. He helpfully flags for Brienne that their current location is representative of the Brotherhood’s moral slide. The man checks Brienne’s fever (broken) and tells her the status of her face (badly scarred, once it heals). He was not the one who treated Brienne, though. That was the girl from earlier, Jeyne.

Brienne asks why she received treatment if they’re just planning to hang her. He tells her that it was Lem’s screw-up that made the fight at the inn necessary - Lem was baited into charging off after the Bloody Mummers, but the man considers that Lem should have known better. Then we get to the key question: who are these people?

“We were king’s men when we began,” the man told her, “but king’s men must have a king, and we have none. We were brothers too, but now our brotherhood is broken. I do not know who we are, if truth be told, nor where we might be going. I only know the road is dark. The fires have not shown me what lies at its end.”

I know where it ends. I have seen the corpses in the trees.

Then it clicks for Brienne. This is the Brotherhood Without Banners, and she’s speaking to Thoros of Myr. Who clearly has his doubts again. Beric Dondarrion is dead. The Brotherhood has a new leader, who Thoros describes as “grimmer”. He goes to get her some food.As in her dreams before, Brienne finds herself looking for a weapon. She finds none.

When Thoros returns, he does so with some pretty lousy food. No milk, no honey, which is absolutely representative of the stores of human kindness on offer. Thoros says so himself, when Brienne asks for Pod to receive pity. If kindness is not available, what about justice?

“Justice.” Thoros smiled wanly. “I remember justice. It had a pleasant taste. […] We were king’s men, knights, and heroes…but some knights are dark and full of terror, my lady. War makes monsters of us all.”

Ah, wordplay! Thoros sees how the cause of the Brotherhood has turned from justice to revenge, and frankly he preferred the justice. This moment here with Thoros is for the reader to reconcile the somewhat morally ambiguous band of Merry Men who tried to look after Arya, tried to give to the poor, and try to conduct trials with the people who’ve been hanging and hanging and hanging people throughout the Riverlands.

That’s when Thoros hears company arriving. Brienne half remembers them from her interludes of lucidity. Once again Lem Lemoncloak is the most noticeable figure. He took the Hound’s helm from Rorge’s corpse. Lem does not deny it when Brienne identifies him as “the Hound”. By taking up the helm, Lem becomes the man. With consequences:

“There is nothing good about that helm, nor the men who wore it,” said the red priest. “Sandor Clegane was a man in torment, and Rorge a beast in human skin.”

“I’m not them.”

“Then why show the world their face?”

Fear, basically. But literally, though, there are those in the Brotherhood who are becoming the evil they fought. Who’s going to be able to tell Lem Lemoncloak apart from the previous men who wore the Hound’s helm? Who’s going to be able to tell the Brotherhood Without Banners from the other groups terrorising the Riverlands, now that they’re not a brotherhood and they’re all out of kindness and justice?

Heart of Stone

Once Brienne is brought to the main cavern (to answer for what she’s done, leaving her rather confused as to what it is she’s supposed to have done), she gets her first look at Lady Stoneheart, recently returned from Fairmarket.

A trestle table had been set up across the cave, in a clef in the rock. Behind it sat a woman all in grey, cloaked and hooded. In her hands was a crown, a bronze circlet ringed by iron swords. She was studying it, her fingers stroking the blades as if to test their sharpness. Her eyes glimmered under her hood.

The readers know several things that Brienne does not, in this moment. The obvious one, that this is undead Catelyn. Then there’s the less obvious. This crown was last mentioned back in Jaime VI, in the possession of Ryman Frey (in point of fact, Jaime told Ryman that Ryman shouldn’t take the crown when he left the camp). Sure enough, in Jaime VII, we’ll learn that Stoneheart’s men ambushed Ryman Frey and company two leagues out of Fairmarket. This is Robb’s crown that Lady Stoneheart now has.

The accusations against Brienne are quickly made clear. Association with and loyalty to the Lannisters. The evidence for this? She was calling out for Jaime in her fevered state. Not great evidence. But then they bring out Oathkeeper. Valyrian steel. Though it’s noted that Lady Stoneheart is focusing only on the lion pommel. Plus the letter Jaime gave her, signed by Tommen, claiming that Brienne is about his business. Better evidence.

All Brienne has to counter that is the truth. Jaime Lannister, famously dishonourable, gave Brienne a Valyrian steel sword and sent her to find Sansa Stark to protect her. Actually protect her, not the ‘move her to Cersei’s dungeons pending trial’ protection. The problem is…

“Are we supposed to believe the Lannisters are handing out gold and ruby swords to foes? That the Kingslayer meant for you to hide [Sansa] from his own twin? I suppose the paper with the boy king’s seal was just in case you needed to wipe your arse.”

It’s frankly unbelieveable. Unbelieveable to anyone who wasn’t in Jaime’s PoV for the duration of ASoS. To make matters worse, Pod and Hyle are brought forth too, described as “the Imp’s own squire” and “one of Randyll Bloody Tarly’s bloody household knights” respectively. Brienne can see the way this is going and pleads for them to be left out of it.

At last Lady Stoneheart speaks. Not well. She needs a young northman (Harwin, not that Brienne knows his name) to translate her words. She asks the name of Brienne’s sword.

“Oathkeeper,” Brienne answered.

The woman in grey hissed through her fingers. Her eyes were two red pits burning in the shadows. She spoke again.

“No, she says. Call it Oathbreaker, she says. It was made for treachery and murder. She names it False Friend. Like you.”

Again, the reader knows something that Brienne does not. Some of the last words Catelyn Stark heard in life were Jaime Lannister sends his regards. What this looks like to Lady Stoneheart is that Jaime had a hand in arranging the Red Wedding, then bribed Brienne to go after Sansa as well.

In the meantime, Brienne is confused about why Lady Stoneheart is making such a personal accusation, and this at last prompts the reveal.

“Lady Catelyn?” Tears filled her eyes. “They said…they said that you were dead.”

“She is,” said Thoros of Myr. “The Freys slashed her throat from ear to ear. When we found her by the river she was three days dead. Harwin begged me to give her the kiss of life, but it had been too long. I would not do it, so Lord Beric put his lips to hers, and the flame of life passed from him to her. And…she rose. May the Lord of Light protect us. She rose.”

So the classic zombie look, really, but a zombie retaining Catelyn’s last traumatic memories and plenty of will. Brienne’s narration refers to her as “the thing that had been Catelyn Stark.” As Brienne is absolutely adamant that she never broke faith with Catelyn, Lady Stoneheart demands she prove it.

“What does she want of me?”

“She wants her son alive, or the men who killed him dead,” said the big man. “She wants to feed the crows, like they did at the Red Wedding. Freys and Boltons, aye. We’ll give her those, as many as she likes. What she asks from you is Jaime Lannister.”

Note the simplicity of this agenda. Lady Stoneheart wants the one impossible thing - her murdered son, not to have been murdered. Failing that, the next best thing is lots and lots of dead people. She wants to do the same thing to the Freys as the Freys did to her. There’s no suggestion of retaking land, or dealing with administration and supply. She just wants everyone even tangentially involved with her son’s murder dead.

This is all very well and good if we’re talking about your Walder Freys (any one of several options) or your Roose Boltons, but now we see Lady Stoneheart lashing out at Brienne, and Pod, and Hyle. Brienne’s situation looks bad, but the reader knows that she’s right when she says Jaime’s not the man he was. Pod’s backstory as revealed in Brienne’s own chapters show his lack of options. Even Hyle, who’s undoubtedly an asshole, is clearly not responsible for Catelyn’s suffering. This is why Thoros was bemoaning the general lack of justice he was seeing around the place.

Lady Stoneheart then offers Brienne a choice. Her own life for Jaime’s. The sword or the noose. Brienne refuses to pick. So Lady Stoneheart orders Brienne hanged. Hyle and Pod too. Brienne tries to bargain for Pod’s life, using the same ‘sapphires’ line Jaime tried, but Lem (now referred to in narration as ‘the Hound’) tells her he wants his wife and daughter back, and starts the hanging. Brienne is focused on Pod. Just Pod.

The chapter finishes with Brienne screaming a single word.

Chapter Function

This chapter is our first proper look at Lady Stoneheart, who’s as tragic as she is terrifying. GRRM’s used Brienne’s PoV well to get both these things across. While Jaime’s storyline necessarily deals with the effects of Lady Stoneheart’s actions, it’s Brienne’s that makes you feel for her victims. It’s also Brienne’s storyline that makes the reader feel for Catelyn herself, who was wronged and murdered and brought back to more pain.

This is the true emotional climax of Brienne’s AFFC arc. Not the fight. The choice. We’ve seen Brienne decide good and honourable things all throughout her storyline, but here she’s put in a situation where there is no good and honourable decision. Take the sword to kill Jaime, betray the trust of a man who saved her life. And, though Lady Stoneheart doesn’t believe it, betray the mission Catelyn gave her. Take the noose, and Pod hangs with her.

Sometimes there’s no way to keep every vow. Brienne has the best of intentions. We’ve seen her good character. But there’s just no good solution to this problem. It’s the point Jaime made, way back when. Brienne’s vows are less important than doing what’s right, and allowing Pod to hang when she could prevent it isn’t right.

Now to see how she handles Jaime. The climax of this AFFC arc lets us know how things will be progressing in TWoW, because now we need to know how Brienne’s going to handle the choice, while also knowing that Lady Stoneheart won’t be backing down from hers. More trouble for the Riverlands is ahead.

Miscellany

Thoros notes that Long Jeyne Heddle treated Brienne as well as a maester could. I doubt she’s had much formal training. Which means that what Jeyne learned, she learned from experience. There’s a nasty thought.

It’s worth thinking twice about Lady Stoneheart and the crown. While Catelyn believes that Arya, Bran, and Rickon are all dead, she has no idea where or whether they were buried. She knows for sure that Robb is dead, but again, it’s not clear where or whether he was buried - given the desecration of his corpse, and what happened to Catelyn’s own body, it doesn’t seem likely that he received a respectful funeral. The fact that Sansa’s vanished without a trace is rather important to Brienne’s storyline. This crown is all Catelyn has left of her children.

Clothing Porn

In her final dream sequence, Brienne wears a silk brocade gown with blue and red quarters and decorated with golden suns and silver moons. Out of dream flashback, she’s wearing a brown woolen shift. Thoros wears the remains of an old robe, red faded out to pink and white.

Food Porn

Onion broth. Cold, greasy stew. Hard bread and harder cheese.

Next Three Chapters

Jon VII, ACoK - Jon IX, ADWD - The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

#ASoIaF #valyrianscrolls #revisiting chapters #cw: violence #a feast for crows #brienne of tarth #catelyn stark

82 notes · View notes

ajoblotofjunk · 4 years

Note

Could you do Feb. or Mar. 19th for Jaime/Brienne? love your writing!!

Thank you. <3 Since this fits so well, this is a follow on to the first sharing a bed prompt.

February 19 - fluff with sharing a bed

“Did you want something?” Brienne asked, and Jaime tried to think of anything besides an entirely inappropriate version of you as an answer. He looked around the room and then down at his feet and remembered his dilemma.

“Pants!” She winced and Jaime lowered his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t pack any sweatpants or anything. I was too scattered when I left. Do you have anything I can borrow to sleep in?”

“I don’t,” she said apologetically. “I only brought these, since it’s summer. It’s always hot here in the summer.”

Of course it was, Jaime groaned internally. That meant three days of her in those shorts, and him having to lie next to her in bed in his uncomfortable jeans. Or those dress slacks, he supposed. Or one of his four pairs of underwear.

“I guess we better get into bed,” Brienne said, edging towards it as she talked. “Do you have a preferred side?”

“No, I usually just sleep in the middle of mine.”

“What about when you have, um,” her cheeks were pink and red, unevenly colored as an apple. “Women over.”

Jaime snorted. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

She was staring at him with such disbelief he was vaguely offended. “I don’t,” he repeated firmly. “Geeze, Bean, how long have we known each other? You know I don’t sleep around.”

Or she did, at least, before they’d both gotten so busy in the last couple of years that they hadn’t seen each other much at all. It was why he’d wanted to come on this trip so badly. He missed her.

“Okay, well, if you don’t care then I, um, I like to sleep on the right side.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jaime said, considering his pants dilemma again as Brienne sat down on the bed. Then a sudden thought hit him and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Did she have a side of the bed because she had men over?

He stared at Brienne as she set her book down, pulled down the covers and slid her long legs under them, then scrunched her face and pulled them both back out.

“Too hot,” she said when she caught him staring.

“Do whatever you want,” he said too sharply, and she narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything.

Jaime went around to the other side of the bed and sat down, but he was sweating already in his jeans, and lying next to Brienne all night was only going to make that situation worse. Annoyed and frustrated and consumed with a question he knew was entirely inappropriate to ask, he stood and took his pants off. At least his boxers were longer than Brienne’s shorts.

When he turned back to get in, Brienne was gaping, open-mouthed, at him.

“What?” he asked. “Never seen a man in boxers before?”

“No I-I-I,” she grabbed her book and yanked it open, staring intently. “I was just surprised.”

“Surprised that I wear underwear at all?” he asked dryly, and he saw the blush spread down her long neck, across her chest and to her exposed shoulders. He’d missed all of her so much, it took every ounce of willpower not to scoop her into his arms and just hold her. Or more, if she’d let him, but she’d never seemed interested in more than friendship before. She’d certainly never looked at him with quite that wide-eyed look on her face; he would know, he'd been searching for it for years.

Maybe she’d changed in the last two years, too.

Jaime flopped down onto the bed and rolled onto his side to face her. “What are you reading?”

“A book,” she mumbled.

“What’s it about?”

“If you’d let me read it, I could tell you.”

“It looks like you’re halfway through. You don’t know yet?”

Brienne slammed it shut and huffed at him. “What do you want?”

“I’m just talking to you. It’s been a long time, and we haven’t done this in ages.”

“We’ve never done this,” Brienne said, gesturing at the two of them.

“You mean sleep together?” Jaime said, pitching his voice lower to see if it only annoyed her or something else.

Brienne went bright red and bit her bottom lip, but her pupils were dark and she definitely looked all up and down his body before she looked away.

Jaime tried as hard as he could to not get too turned on by it.

“We can talk in the morning. Good night, Jaime,” she said, turning off the light and curling onto her side, facing away from him. The moonlight was enough that he could see the outline of her shape.

“Aw, Bean, come on, at least tell me a bedtime story.”

Her shoulders shook and he heard her snort of laughter. “Once upon a time, there was a handsome and annoying prince who wouldn’t let his royal subjects go to sleep ever. Exhausted and angry, they murdered him and set up a democratic form of government and everyone lived happily ever after. The end.”

“You think I’m handsome,” Jaime said, and as he’d hoped she flopped onto her back to glare at him.

“Still need your ego stroked, I see.”

“I like stroking,” he said. She opened and then shut her mouth several times, before turning back on her side.

“Go to sleep,” she commanded.

“I’m not tired. It’s nine o’clock, who goes to bed at nine at night?”

“People who have early morning jobs.”

“We’re on vacation, live a little.” He scooched a little closer. “Tell me a secret.”

It was a game they’d played since they were little, the two of them talking under tables and bleachers, in closets and bedrooms, over quiet meals and in the middle of loud sports events. One of them - usually Jaime - would ask for a secret, and Brienne would tell him something silly, like she had a pet unicorn no one else could see, and then she’d ask him to tell her one.

When they’d been teenagers, he’d told her about Aerys. A few years ago, she’d told him about Connington.

He had only one secret he wanted to tell her tonight.

"I can't think of any," she said in a shaky, high voice.

"Not one? There's nothing you've been waiting two years to tell me?" he breathed into her ear. She shivered a little, and his attempts at not getting turned on failed spectacularly.

"There's one thing," she said softly, and then she took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I have a crush on...on someone."

Jaime's pulse sped up. "Someone? Should we play twenty questions to figure out who it is?"

She didn't say no, so he asked, "Is it a man?"

Brienne nodded.

"Is he on this trip?"

Another nod.

He licked his lips. "Is he in love with Renly Baratheon?"

"I don't know," Brienne said, and then she turned on her back to face him. She looked terrified. "Are you?"

Jaime's face split with a wide smile. "No, not since third grade when he gave me a signed baseball for my birthday that I discovered he had signed himself."

Brienne laughed a little, but the nervous terror still had her in its grip.

"It's my turn," he told her. "Ask me."

"Tell me a secret," she whispered, her eyes scanning his face.

"I really want to kiss my best friend."

The movement of her throat when she swallowed distracted him from his own anxiety for a moment. "Is your best friend a woman?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes."

"Is she on this trip?"

"Yes," he said, smiling.

"Is she...in love with you?"

Jaime leaned closer, their mouths a breath apart. "I don't know. Are you?"

"For longer than two years," she said just before rising up to press her lips to his.

The bed-sharing turned out to not be a problem at all.

#date tag writing meme #sorry about spamming the tag yesterday btw #i will stop tagging these jxb #just know that they all are hee

75 notes · View notes

roadtogracelandx45 · 1 year

Text

Winters Gate |3 | Robb Stark

@prettyinpayne @spid3rgwen

Three

“I did what I had to.” Jonlynn returned, her voice and body trembling in fear causing her two younger siblings to cuddle into her. Tommen clutched at her sleeping gown.

“I didn’t do anything!” Joffrey threw in a fake cry that brought their mother running in quicker.

Their father trailed behind her, a fresh wine goblet in his hand which dropped with a clanking. Instead of following his wife to the fallen prince, he went over to the bed to check on Jonlynn.

“Trying to kill me isn’t anything!”

In one strong movement, Robert pulled his oldest daughter into his arms in a hug. Something he rarely did for his other children.

But Jonlynn was his favorite, so in turn, was the only one he paid attention to. Joan, the handmaiden that was traveling north with them and staying with the older princess darted around the king, grabbing the dressing gown and filling up goblets with wine. Mostly at Renly’s urging. It would calm all their nerves.

“He tried to do what?” He demanded once he had sat her down on the couch and lowered himself down next to her, it creaked under the sudden weight and then settled. “He tried to kill her.” Renly repeated, “the intruder was Joffrey.”

It took several long minutes for it to click in Robert's mind and he stood up in a rage. A blinding rage, like the one he had gone into when Lyanna had been taken. Renly quickly crossed the room to his niece’s side, he knew better than to get in the way of Robert’s anger.

“He had every right!” Ceresi shouted, rising to her feet.

“Come,” Renly helped pull Jonlynn to her feet and wrapped the dressing gown around her better before leading her out of the room. Tommen and Myrcella followed quickly. They knew better than to stay behind especially when their parents' tempers were flaring like that.

Jonlynn had barely dozed off in the room that Tommen was supposed to be sharing with Joffrey when she was woken up by her uncle who had stayed up standing guard over them.

“What? What happened?” She asked as she bolted up in terror.

“Jo, Jo, it’s just me. It’s time to get up, we are finishing the ride to Winterfell.” Renly didn’t miss the relief that flooded her face when she saw it was him and the hope in her eyes about being back with Robb Stark.

“Your father had your things sent over from the other room. He and your mother aren’t talking right now.”

Joan knocked on the door and came in carrying a tray of food for her saying a few quiet words in greeting to her lady.

“Don’t worry about the littles, they are with Tyrion right now.”

The princess nodded her head and scrubbed her hands against her eyes as she rose to go sit at the table to eat. “How furious is mother?”

“Furious like when she found out that your father backhanded Joff with the indent with the cat.” Joffrey had gotten a hold of a pregnant cat right after Jonlynn came back to King’s Landing and had mutilated it.

“He should have done a lot worse than that.” The girl sipped her tea and made herself relax. “I am just glad that we will be at Winterfell today. I wish Father would have let me stay in the first place. I don’t fit in there.”

Renly nodded his head, “but what your father wants he gets. And he wanted you home.” He moved to exit the room so she could finish getting ready for the ride.

“Thank you, uncle.” She smiled as Joan came up behind her and started brushing her wavy black hair. “Always.” He pressed his hand against his heart and bowed his head before exiting the room.

She and Joan hadn’t been alone long when Cersei came sweeping into the room, her green eyes going straight to her daughter. “Leave.”

Joan looked at the Princess who nodded her head once, in a quick flurry she rushed out of the room but stayed on the outside of the door, ready to go to her aid if needed.

“You are going to apologize to Joffrey.” Ceresi demanded, her nose wrinkling, her daughter had seemed to take on her father's views of the Starks and she thought she knew what love was. For what a 16-year-old knew about love?

“What why? I defended myself. That’s all!” Jonlynn returned, her voice pitching slightly, the only sign of fear that she showed.

“Because he is going to be King one day and he deserves it.”

“He deserves nothing. Future king or not.”

Ceresi went to raise her hand to slap her but her daughter speaking stopped her. “Mother, it’s been a long month, let me go to Winterfell and marry Robb and you won’t have to worry about me again.” Jonlynn wrapped her furs around her and walked out of the room, smiling proudly to herself, she couldn’t wait to be back in Winterfell and away from her family.

Robert looked at his daughter, in concern, when he went to check on her, she had fallen asleep along with the younger two and he didn’t have the heart to wake them. Not after Renly informed him of Jonlynn begging to go to Winterfell in the middle of the night, wanting to be away from them all.

“I am okay, Father.” She said, answering his silent question. “I am ready.” Robert nodded his head in agreement. After finding out what happened to his daughter the night she was attacked, he knew it was best for Jonlynn to be married and in the North. He also knew that Ned would protect his oldest daughter like she was his own. “Tell me about Robb, his father rarely spoke of him.”

She smiled brightly, “Robb is, he’s perfect.”

“Of course he is, I wouldn’t expect anything less from my daughter’s husband.”

They had been riding for several hours when she saw the first pillars of Winterfell and she breathed a sigh of relief. She finally felt like she was safe, and that nothing was going to happen to her.

Without thinking she nudged her horse in the belly urging it forward. “Don’t get too far ahead daughter!” Robert laughed as the horse took off in a run and the hood that had been covering her head fell down letting her dark hair flip in the air. Her answering laugh made him laugh more. “Renly!” He called, he didn’t have it in him to chase after her. That was what his younger brother was for.

Shaking his head, Renly followed his niece who was still within eyesight, smirking at the displeasure Joffrey was kicking up. This whole visit other than Robert making Ned the hand of the king was going to be all about Jonlynn and Robb and it was going to be a hard pill for Joffery to swallow with the attention not being on him.

Lowering her hood, Jonlynn sat up straight on her horse and followed her brother and the Hound into the courtyard, her eyes darting around the crowded yard for Robb, who smiled when he met her eyes. “Do hold yourself together sister.” Joffrey hissed following her gaze.

“Joffrey, drop dead.” She returned through her teeth before waving her fingers at little Rickon who was all but bouncing in excitement at seeing her again. The younger sibling lifted his lip up into a sneer but was stopped by her father motioning for her to follow him over to the Starks.

Smiling the Princess got off of her horse and took her father’s pre-offered arm and let him lead her to the Stark family. “You’ve got fat,” Robert exclaimed once he had them all raise up. ‘Father.” Jonlynn groaned, raising her eyes to the sky before she lowered them to look at Robb who was standing beside his father. “Go on child, leave the talking to the old men.’ Robert said handing her hand over to Robb who nodded his head once and shook the King’s hand. “Are you alright?” He asked lowly. “We will talk later about it. Promise.”

#ash writes #series: winter's gate #robb x jonlynn #robb stark imagines #robb stark fan fiction

4 notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

Game of Thrones Imagines - Dancing

in which i write waaay too much about this because ive been listening to waltz music and im absolute trash for dancing scenes

In this preference, you’ll enjoy little drabbles with: Ned Stark, Benjen Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Jamie Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn of Blackwater, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Brienne, Margeary Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Edmure Tully, Brynden Tully, Oberyn Martell, Yara Greyjoy, Petyr Baelish, Beric Dondarrion, Tormund Giantsbane

seven hells what order should I put these guys in

NED STARK

In his youth, Ned never really bothered with the ins and outs of dancing. He didn’t see the point; training or running Winterfell was more important, besides, it was more of a Southern thing. His brothers shared his lack of enthusiasm, so he didn’t really care about it.

However, this changed at a gala at Winterfell, when he saw you for the first time. You were so lively and kind, and your beauty seemed to increase tenfold when you danced. He didn’t even notice his brother Brandon was your partner at first, and suddenly, he couldn’t keep himself from asking you for the next dance, worried Brandon might keep you all night. As he put his hand to your waist and your hand in his, he internally panicked… But that melted away as you gave him a reassuring smile.

Ned didn’t even notice you were leading him, nor did he dwell on the few stumbles he made. He just couldn’t believe he was so close to you, and enjoying something like dancing.

He tried practicing and brushing up a bit after that, but really, it was a bit of a lost cause. After you married, he still loved to take you in his arms anyway, and he was never short of praise for you when the gala was over. You teased him about watching you all night instead of visiting with his fellow lords, and he wasn’t ashamed to say that he loved watching your graceful movements.

The last dance was Ned’s favorite, as he loved it when you leaned your head on his shoulder and you two could just sway. If you were particularly tired, he’d wait until the guests had mostly cleared out and bridal carry you to your shared bedroom. He used to feel a bit embarrassed in helping you undress, but later he took great pleasure in how you'd sigh. This extended to him eventually sharing a bath with you afterward, soothing your body with the warm water and his hands.

BENJEN STARK

Benjen had never cared for dancing, especially these silly galas the Southerners liked. He never thought he was missing out, and rather enjoyed teasing Brandon and Ned for having to go to them, and later teased Robb for the same thing.

He was stopping by Winterfell and staying the night when he heard of a gala going on. Benjen wanted to speak with his brother and nephews, so he stopped by inside, surprised by the amount of people and the music. He spotted Jon and went to him, only for someone to catch his eye. He didn’t keep track of the family members of the North, as it wasn’t his place anymore, but he wished he had a name for your lovely face.

You were dancing with Robb, smiling at him, laughing when he leaned in and said something. He admired the way you moved with such elegance, despite Robb having some trouble keeping up.

“Uncle?” Jon found him first, and tried to get his attention.

Benjen quickly shut his mouth and greeted his nephew. As he hugged him, he still glanced at you. Jon had noticed and teased his uncle, mentioning your family was close to the Starks, and you were their only daughter. As Benjen had visited with his family, he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you. He was ready to leave, wanting to keep you off his mind, and he was surprised when you sought him out first.

“I’m so sorry to intrude, but you’re … Benjen, correct? My cousin is with the Night’s Watch, and he mentioned you - Wait, I haven’t even introduced myself…”

He thought it was so cute how breathless you were, and you were trying to be polite to a man of the Night's Watch, even if you had no reason to. He asked for your name, and many other questions, both of you drawing into conversation without realizing it. You noticed a few songs had passed already, and you took a chance. You asked if he would be allowed to dance with you. Benjen hesitated, and politely refused you, figuring a lady shouldn’t be dancing with someone like him. He was surprised by how disheartened you look, and he was disappointed as well.

As the evening grew dark, you noticed Benjen had disappeared at some point. You were glad to leave the stuffy hall, your feet and legs were aching. Outside, the frozen air was perfect, and you took a deep breath … and you yelped as a sudden gust of wind hit you. Your dress was thin, and you shivered.

Suddenly, someone wrapped a warm fur around you. You looked up. “Benjen? I was wondering where you were.”

“You were looking for me?” His pleased smile was cute. You pulled the fur further around your shoulders and spoke honestly. “Yes. I wanted to see you."

The two of you lingered, and you could feel a sort of tension. There was still music from the hall, albeit muffled and distant. You spoke first, asking him to dance with you.

Benjen couldn’t believe you managed to take him off guard, but he didn’t make the same mistake twice. He accepted, pulling you into his arms. As you shivered again, he pulled you even closer, and you wondered if it was his heart or your’s that you could hear.

From then on, anytime Benjen passed by Winterfell, you were sure to see him. You two shared several secret meetings, which weren’t limited to dances. He especially liked it when you snuck out of the galas early and curled up with him in your guest room, where he'd soothe your aching legs while whispering how beautiful you looked.

ROBB STARK

Like most Northern lords, Robb felt the entire idea of galas and dancing was silly. Still, he knew you attended them, so he’d do his best to practice a few steps when no one was looking. During a gala, he didn’t hide that he was looking around for you, and would try his best to have you at the first dance. When he danced with other ladies, he really wasn’t that attentive and sometimes made mistakes out of nervousness, or because he was too busy watching you across the room.

Once Robb finally had you as a partner, it was obvious how pleased he was as he held you. He’d try to play it cool, but you could tell he was concentrating on following the right steps.

Just for fun, you liked to throw him off by moving a little closer and whispering something sweet. His face would go red and he’d stumble, and you two would laugh to yourselves, stuck in your own little world.

He’d eventually grow in confidence and you could tell by how firmly he held you and how he began to lead the dance more and more. If you asked him about practicing, he’d have to blush again and admit he was doing it for you, as he loved watching you twirl with more experienced partners, and hoped that someday he could make you smile like that. You’d insist that you love dancing with him the most, no matter what, and he’d likely almost step on your feet again because he was so happy.

At the end of a dance, Robb always gives you an earnest kiss on your hand and lingers a bit, still holding your hand and looking you in the eyes. It’s so obvious he wants to kiss you for real, but then he has to hand you off to a partner, frowning the whole time. He’d definitely want to find you for a last dance, and at the end of that, he’d risk it and give you a kiss on the cheek - still holding your hand. He often lingers after the music ends, still holding onto you, and you have to teasingly remind him to let you go and return to his family.

Often Robb really can’t take it and finds you after the gala, in the evening, wanting to hold your hand and steal a proper kiss from you. “I’ve been waiting to do that all night.”

“Ha! Get it all out of your system, before someone comes looking for us.”

SANSA STARK

Since she was a girl, Sansa always daydreamed about attending fabulous galas and dances in the South. Once she arrived in King’s Landing, you and her became fast friends after she met you at her first one. She looked up to you, loving your poise and grace. You began to teach her, and although she had some trouble with more complicated steps, she appreciated your patient instruction. Each gala was a whirlwind of emotion for her, and when it became too much, especially with Joffrey, she’d seek you out in the crowd. You’d take her into your arms and dance, quietly alleviating her worries as the music played.

The situation in King’s Landing became worse, but Sansa continued to attend your lessons. You noticed the toll the events was taking on her health and mind, but she insisted she was fine.

One day, she was especially clumsy in the lesson, often making mistakes and spacing out. You knew it was rather pointless you ask, but you did so quietly, whispering to her as you guided her along the steps.

Suddenly Sansa held fast to you, bringing you into a crushing hug. You heard her shudder and try to stifle herself, but several tears came out. You continued to sway, soothing her and petting her hair. As soon as you both heard someone, she pulled away, pressing her sleeves at her eyes to hide any tears. You both quickly returned to the lesson as several servants passed by.

From that point, Sansa would often exclusively seek you out at galas, pointedly dancing with just you even if propriety demanded you two part. She only would after a scathing comment from Cersei or Joffrey - and she would've danced with others for a time, but then she’d always come back to you. You’d still whisper soothing words when no one would hear as you two twirled.

Once the dances were over, you both would be exhausted, but Sansa would still linger with you. You’d hold her hand, taking her to her room, sometimes shooing away her handmaidens so you could brush her hair and keep comforting her. She wouldn’t always accept this, however, and would want to help you as well, smiling softly when you’d attempt to joke and make witty comments to lighten the mood.

JON SNOW

Jon was never expected to bother with fancy feasts or galas, and he told himself he was fine with it, especially since Robb was always dressed up and dragged off for them. He still found it a bit lonely, however, and he was curious about the music that was always playing for the galas. Sometimes he’d hang around outside, listening to the laughter and music. He was doing this on the night you saw him. Jon heard someone hurry out, and he was surprised to see a girl all dressed up and out of breath. You sat down on a bench almost fell over as you removed your shoes.

You turned around and yelped, and he startled, too. He apologized for frightening you, and was glad you just laughed it off.

“You’re … Lord Stark’s boy, right? Jon Snow?”

He was surprised you recognized him, and thankful that you were talking to him so kindly. You introduced yourself, explaining your shoe had broken and you were worn out. As you shivered, he quickly gave you his fur, and you two ended up talking for much longer than you expected.

“The galas aren't so bad, I promise. Yes, they’re tiring, and dressing up takes far too long, and the lords can be overbearing …” You trailed off, and he couldn’t help but laugh. You were so pretty in your outfit, and he wondered if Robb was one of those lords who annoyed you. You stood up and took his hands, further surprising him. “Still, they're fun! Here, I’ll show you!”

Even though Jon tried to protest, he really couldn’t argue once you were placing his hands. He knew something of dancing that he was taught, but not much, and he hoped he didn’t touch you anywhere inappropriate. You ended up swaying and dancing along, and he began to forget himself.

Once you began to shiver again, he remembered your feet were bare and offered to help you to your guest room. There were several more galas at Winterfell, and you liked skipping out to talk and visit with him. He still had plans to go to the Wall, and he considered his time with you precious, knowing it wouldn’t last long. A few times Robb or Theon teased him for having a crush, and he’d just tell them they were imagining things.

Whenever he'd hear the music of the galas, whether it be a minstrel that was playing or someone singing, he'd wonder what it'd be like if he were a true Stark and was allowed to dance with you like the other lords.

THEON GREYJOY

Naturally, Theon wasn’t allowed to participate in the few galas at Winterfell, and he didn’t think Ironborns should be doing flowery dancing, anyway. Still, his interest was piqued when he noticed you and Sansa practicing, and how the servants would gossip about how lovely you and Robb looked when you danced.

So Theon ended up sneaking into a few, especially at Robb and Jon’s urging. They were ready to get a kick out of Theon falling over himself or Catlyn dragging him out by the ear, but he surprised nearly everyone when he strode up to you with confidence, asking for a dance. You knew him, of course, and you were surprised when he kept up with you.

Not just that, he was almost a natural even if he didn’t know all the steps. He had an infectious energy, and you two ended up sharing quite a few laughs. If he messed up or you teased him about his hand being too low, he’d have a joke ready. Once you finished the dance, he made sure to kiss your hand with a wink, sometimes giving you a kiss on the cheek if no one was watching.

Theon’s absolute favorite thing to do was “steal” you from your partner, especially if it was someone he knew you disliked. He’d just whisk you off with a smirk and a quip, and you two would try to stifle your giggles at how angry the man would look.

Theon was only able to snatch you for the last dance once, and he got an earful for it later - but it was completely worth it. It felt like it was just the two of you in the room, and he stole a kiss before being dragged off by Robb and Jon, who were positive that Catlyn was going to tear Theon a new one.

Theon would always try to find you after a gala. His usual flirting would fall a bit short, as he’d be a bit intimidated by how lovely and breathless you looked, but you’d still smile and would give him a real kiss goodnight.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

You were a noble from Westeros who had long been travelling Essos, and you soon came into the service of the Queen of Dragons. You two had a surprising friendship, and she found herself quite drawn to you. One day, she heard you humming and dancing along to something as you tidied up, and she asked you with a laugh what you were doing.

As you described the grand balls you’d attend, and all the silly nonsense your parents would make you wear, she’d become thoughtful. She told you to demonstrate some more of the dances, and you were amused by how queenly her demand was. You’d do your best, but explain that it’s better with two people - perhaps one of her handmaidens or Missandei could help.

To your surprise, Daenerys would step forward and hold you with a strong confidence, all but telling you to instruct her. You’d do so, keeping your smile down as you guided her hands and began the basic steps. Daenerys did her best to follow, although she took it quite seriously, and thus would make a few mistakes. As you’d tease her good naturedly, she’d be even more determined, bringing you even closer and telling you to focus on the lesson.

Your lessons continued for some time, each one the two of you going longer and becoming a little more breathless. Daenerys loved how you’d hum the songs and would move with such confidence, it would distract her more than your lips or the feeling of your body against her’s. Finally, she’d push you against the wall and kiss you until you were breathless… And afterwards, you’d giggle and ask her how long she’s been wanting to do such a thing. The queen certainly punished that bit of cheek.

While you don’t have lessons all that much anymore, during celebrations Daenerys will take you to herself and lead you in the dance. She’d obviously be pleased with your compliments, which you found adorable.

Sometimes in her chambers, when the windows are open and you both can hear the sea, she’d pull you into her arms and want to slow dance. You both would end up making up your own dances, and would take turns leaning on each other and sharing kisses and whispers.

JORAH MORMONT

Dancing with Jorah came about purely by accident. You were discussing Westerosi culture with Daenerys, as you were also from there and she was curious. You described attending galas, all the beautiful dresses and lights and music. Jorah had attended a few as well, even though they weren’t as popular in the North, and he shared his stories.

Daenerys looked to the both of you with a bit of mischief in her eyes. She asked if you two could show her how some of the dances are done. You quickly felt shy, as you had quite a crush on Ser Jorah, but the idea of being so close and dancing with him was a wonderful thought. You looked to him, and he also seemed a little flustered, but he gave you a smile. “A dance or two for the Khaleesi shouldn’t be a problem. It’s been some time for me, so you may have to lead, my lady.”

You gladly did so, you loved it when he called you a lady, reminding you of better times back at home. Despite his words, he took you in his arms with little hesitation and after you counted a few times, you both were easily waltzing around the room. You hummed a song you remembered, and he also remembered it, and began recalling when he was a young man and attended his first gala.

You didn’t notice, but he was discussing the story more with you than Daenerys, and she had long snuck out of the room with Missandei, the two of them grinning.

You two had ended up dancing along to several more songs, talking all the while. You hummed and sometimes sang a song, and he easily swayed you even if he didn’t know it. Jorah held you just perfectly, not too tight, and you felt so safe in his arms. It wasn’t until you turned to ask Daenerys a question that you realized you both were alone, totally out of breath and not knowing how long you’d been dancing.

You had a mix of emotions, you were homesick and lovesick. Jorah assumed your quietness was because you were tired, and he brought you water and took you to a place to rest. You were touched, and you two kept talking into the evening. You eventually began leaning on him and fell asleep, and he carefully carried you to your room and kissed your brow before he tucked you in.

You both confessed your feelings to each other shortly afterward. While there wasn’t much time for parties in the Free Cities, sometimes during quiet evenings you’d pull him into a dance and he’d love it, enjoying your closeness and how you’d hum and rest your head on his chest.

JAMIE LANNISTER

Jamie was always expected to be accomplished in most things, and socially-demanded dancing for stuffy galas was no different. Although he didn’t think much of it, he had a natural talent for it. Jamie didn’t have many chances to dance, however, as the Kingsguard was generally discouraged from participating in galas, unless it was for ceremony or some event.

You first danced together at one of these ceremonies, and Jamie was relieved. You two had known each other for a while, and he was glad not to get stuck with some lovestruck maid. He started out with a smirk, making sassy remarks about the silliness of the whole thing, and you teasing him about being rude while dancing with a lady. As it went on, Jamie started to become quiet. He began to realize how much he liked having you this close, how you smiled and reassured him, and lightly scolded him when he made a rude comment about a guest. He couldn’t keep his heart still, and told himself it was just the exercise.

He was disappointed when the dance ended, and ended up finding you for a few more. When you were taken for the last dance, he couldn’t deny how irritated he felt, and watched you and your damned partner the whole time.

After that, he was sure to attend more galas, but not enough to bring suspicion to your growing relationship. He’d sometimes play it risky, bringing you closer than was proper, whispering in your ear lovely or flirty praises if he knew his sister was away. He really only enjoyed dancing with you, and didn’t have a problem turning down anyone else, although he had to dance with a few others to avoid being seen as too rude.

After he lost his hand and returned to King’s Landing, the bright galas lost their appeal and he stopped attending, even for ceremony. He ended up finding you in a practice room one day, and you guided him to you, although he protested. Once you began humming a song you knew he liked, and guided him into it, he couldn’t help but bring you close against his chest. He leaned into you, swaying as he nuzzled into your hair, holding you so tight it almost hurt.

You knew he was overwhelmed with emotion from his captivity, so when you two got a chance alone, you’d hold him close and whisper how much you loved him, sometimes swaying and humming the songs you two used to dance to.

TYRION LANNISTER

Galas were like any other feast or party for Tyrion, he could have plenty of drink and banter, and if he got bored, he’d slip out and go to a brothel. If he knew you were in attendance, you two would sit together, trading drinks and stories.

He knew you loved to dance, and sometimes you’d step away to enjoy the music. He’d have some feelings of envy and sadness, wishing he could dance so easily with you. One day, you noticed him being particularly self-pitying, and you pulled him by the wrist.

“What’s this, my lady? Normally, I wouldn’t refuse you, but with so many people -”

You smiled and shook your head. “Oh, honestly, it’s not that. I want you to dance with me.”

Tyrion was obviously unsure, he didn’t want that sort of attention drawn to both of you. He knew his reputation, but he didn’t want to sully your’s. You insisted, but instead of dragging him to the middle of the dance floor, you pulled him out in the halls.

“Now I’m really getting mixed messages about your intentions,” He joked, trying to relieve his anxiety.

You rolled your eyes and took his hands, and gently instructed him. Outside, you could still hear the music, but you were alone, enjoying yourselves You both ended up losing track of time, and had to hurry back separately, so no one would assume anything untoward.

He was touched by your kindness, loving you even more, if that was possible. During galas, you two would hold hands and drink, and after you married you were more than able to sneak out and dance to yourselves under the moon and stars.

TYWIN LANNISTER

It was the first time you had attended a gala at Casterly Rock, and your parents wanted you on your best behavior. You had to dance the appropriate amount of time with the appropriate amount of partners, at the appropriate distance. Just thirty minutes in and you wanted to leave.

You noticed Tywin Lannister sitting at a table with his family members; he was hard to miss, with his great presence. However, you became wrapped up in your irksome partners, and you didn’t notice he was gone until he was suddenly beside you. Your scared partner wasted no time in handing you over, and before you knew it, you were dancing with the Warden of the West.

He had a confident hold on you, and perhaps he was a little too close, but you hardly thought about that. You were surprised by his poise and practiced steps; he led you effortlessly and you found yourself complimenting him. You blushed and tried not to look away as he returned the compliment with his low voice. You'd never thought he would do such a thing, and to you of all people.

At the end of it, he gave you a proper bow and kiss on your hand, but it felt different than others you received. You were still buzzing. At the end of the night, he picked you for the last dance, and you were determined not to be intimidated again. You danced wonderfully in sync with him, and you could swear he tried to change some steps to trip you up. You didn’t fall for it, and followed his lead easily. The dance was over before you knew it, and he gave you another customary kiss on your hand, but there was a peculiar look in his eyes that made your heart flutter even more.

The gossip in court exploded after that, with your handmaids telling you that he almost never danced with any lady, and everyone agreed you two looked like royalty.

You still remember that night fondly after you two married. After you wed, he was sure to get the first few dances with you at each gala, and no one was going to take Tywin Lannister’s wife from him until he was quite finished. Once he was, he’d hand you to a partner and sit down, his eyes occasionally following you across the ballroom. No one would think of making an inappropriate move on you, especially at Casterly Rock.

If he felt someone was overstepping their bounds, Tywin wouldn’t hesitate to calmly stand from his seat, make his way to you, and give them a quiet but vicious reminder of who you were married to. Then, he’d guide you to his seat, where he’d keep his hand over yours until he calmed down.

For the last dance, no matter how tired he was or who he was speaking to, he’d seek you out. While Tywin always held you close, if he was in a particular mood, he’d make sure your body was nearly touching his, and his hand would have a firm grip on your waist. The two of you would talk quietly or you'd enjoy a peaceful silence with knowing glances. Tywin wouldn’t want to show too much affection in public, but you could tell from his soft gaze and the way he held you that he very much wanted you. Once the dance was finished, he’d keep you by his side until the gala finished and you two retired to your bedchambers.

SANDOR CLEGANE

Of all the stupid things nobles do, Sandor found galas especially fucking stupid, especially with all the fuss in guarding them. Normally he was glad to take the night off and drink, but since being hired by your family, he had to attend to guard you.

He’d already had growing feelings for you, and the damn galas only made it worse. You were always dressed beautifully, always smiling at this person and laughing with that one. At least you'd give cold looks to lords who didn’t impress you, but he still hated how everyone held your attention. Anytime one of the lords was too close or touchy, he’d be sure to touch his sword and quietly appear next to you two until they’d slink off.

After a well-known incident involving a drunk lord who ended up lifted by his neck and nearly tossed, the guests figured out you were well-protected and didn’t try anything fishy. It really wasn’t enough for Sandor, he didn’t give a shit about dancing, it just drove him up a wall how other men were so close and touching you. You couldn’t stand some of them, but you had to allow it, and whatever you two felt for each other had to be kept under wraps.

In the evening, when the gala ran long and your legs and feet were absolutely killing you, Sandor would wait until you two were alone and pick you up. He’d cradle you bridal style, secretly adoring how you rested your head on his broad shoulders and kept him close, sometimes touching his face as you closed your eyes. He’d be bold enough to take you into your bedroom and set you down on the bed, ignoring the scandalized looks of your handmaidens. Eventually you began sending them away, and when Sandor would set you down, he’d be sure to strip you from your clothes (perhaps a bit too roughly), rubbing your legs and meeting your lips as you held onto his face.

At one point you were practicing in an empty room and you offered to teach him. He snorted, saying he wasn’t doing that shit, and you laughed, figuring you’d give it a try. After a gala, you still have the music in your head, so when you’re both alone you’ll wrap your arms around him and hum, trying to sway him along with you. He’ll grumble and complain but still bring his arms around you, holding you a little too tight, as if trying to erase all the people who were touching you before. Sometimes he was feeling especially jealous, seeing how flushed your cheeks were and how you breathed heavily in your dress, and he’d be too eager to rip it while ‘helping’ you undress.

BRONN

No surprise, he’d scoff at the ridiculousness of the galas and dancing. He and Tyrion would have plenty of good laughs about it as you got ready, and he’d be sure to give you several compliments on your backside before you left. After he was knighted at Blackwater, Tyrion made several jokes about him attending to find a proper wife, which he always blew off. It wasn’t until Tyrion brought up your marriage in passing, and how you’d likely find a husband at a gala since you attended so many, that he got a little irritated.

He didn’t want to go, of course, but he recalled how you always dressed up for them. Were you dressing up for someone in particular? He didn’t think you were the husband-hunting type. The whole idea just left a bad taste in his mouth, so he agreed to go to one with Tyrion, fully intending to just drink and joke the whole time.

Naturally none of the lords and ladies looked forward to having Bronn or Tyrion there, but you still sat with them, laughing and drinking along. Bronn kept fighting the urge to pull you into his lap like he did when he visited the taverns, and right when he was about to pull you to him by your waist, you were asked to dance by some Lord Who Knows from Where the Fuck. Bronn definitely was glaring when the man took you away.

As the lord danced with you, and you smiled politely when he kissed your hand at the end, Bronn hoped that was it. Nope, several lords were ready to dance with you. Evidently, you were popular, and that wasn’t surprising. Bronn wasn’t a flowery words type, but the word ‘beautiful’ kept coming to mind as you twirled and glittered under the lights. It just irked him, so he kept drinking and suggested to Tyrion that they ditch and find a brothel. He remained irritated, despite the distractions.

The next time you readied for a gala and stopped by Tyrion’s office to see if he was joining you, Bronn felt that ugly feeling again, and urged you to come to one of his favorite taverns instead.

You thought he was joking. “In my jewels and one of my favorite dresses?”

“Eh, leave the jewels. I can help ya out of that dress, if ya need it.” He grinned.

You realized he actually meant it, and you sighed, thinking about how upset your family would be, especially since you were still unmarried… But Bronn looked almost eager, and it was hard to refuse him to begin with. You rolled your eyes, told him to give you some time and returned in a much simpler outfit. He couldn’t keep his grin and laugh to himself as he pulled you out of the castle, with Tyrion smirking to himself as you two left.

At the tavern, there was plenty of music and drinks already flowing. After you two drank plenty, Bronn pulled you up, telling you he’d show you what real dancing was. You’d never actually been amongst the smallfolk like this, so you were a little overwhelmed, but you loved the way his hands touched and wandered across your body. He was risky, giving you kisses here on there, sometimes on your jaw or your neck, encouraged by your laughter. Once you two were tired and thirsty, he eagerly pulled you into his lap, calling for another round of drinks. The two of you spent quite a bit of time at the inn and the room upstairs. From then on, you began shirking attending galas, having more fun dancing with Bronn in various taverns and dance halls in King’s Landing.

STANNIS BARATHEON

Not too surprising, Stannis saw no enjoyment in galas, even when he was unmarried and expected to find a wife. The regular feasts were pain enough, and Renly and Robert always took the attention of others anyway.

While courting you, he never actually met you at a gala, preferring to see you elsewhere. When you two married, he realized that he eventually had to attend them, as you couldn’t go by yourself … and he knew how much you loved them. So even with his discomfort, he made attempts to practice with you. You guided him patiently, and he paid attention, although he often got distracted by your happy smile, and how you’d reward him with kisses. He’d tell you to let up on all the affection so he could concentrate, but …. Nope, you didn’t. If you kept showering him with praise and affection, he’d become terribly flustered and try to pull you back into the lesson.

When a gala finally came around, you could tell he was nervous, even if he seemed the same to anyone else. He danced with you through two songs, which surprised you. You forgot yourself more than once, giving him a chaste kiss or a compliment like you’d do in practice, and you both would blush and hope no one noticed.

He’d sit out after that, feeling too out of place. He’d feel nervous seeing you dance with more loud and outgoing men, evening starting to grind his teeth if they looked too cozy with you. Eventually, Davos would have to point out that you didn’t smile nearly as much for the other lords, nor did you stay close to them or laugh at their silly jokes.

For the last dance, you could tell he was happy to return to you. He held you much closer, even giving you subdued smiles as you beamed up at him and noted his improvement. At the end, he’d give you a kiss on the hand, but wouldn’t be satisfied and would end up giving you a sweet one on your lips.

RENLY BARATHEON

While Renly was good enough at dancing and he had friends at the gala, he preferred feasts and tourneys, especially since galas were full of starry-eyed girls chasing after him. You two met when you were forced to partner up, you both were trying to escape more undesirable partners and easily danced away from them. Once you’d both realize what you just did, you’d have a good laugh about it and started to get to know each other.

Since you two often visited at other events after that, there were rumors, but you knew his heart was with a certain Tyrell. He was a fun friend anyway, especially when you both wanted to escape at a gala. You’d dance and make jokes, complain about your families and snigger at certain guests. One time you both were being pursued by especially annoying partners for a last dance, and you literally spent half the song dodging through couples, avoiding them and finally finding each other, only to be totally out of breath and the song nearly over.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

You attended more than enough galas for one lady; your parents were so eager for you to marry, they dragged you to dozens. At least you enjoyed dancing, however, the instability of Westeros had other ideas. You followed your father on his campaign to support Stannis, putting a solid end to any future galas.

As you were often at Dragonstone, you befriended little Shireen, who naturally wasn’t allowed to attend galas. You began giving her little lessons, teaching her some of the songs and steps to them, which she loved. Eventually you began to befriend Davos as well, ans he thought it was adorable to watch the two of you. He especially liked the grace and ease that you moved with, it reminded him of a ship sailing on an easy breeze.

One evening, Shireen suggested that you teach Davos how to dance. He was taken off-guard and quickly said that he really wasn’t a dancer, besides, you were a proper lady who ought to dance with proper lords.

“You are also a lord, and a knight, Ser Davos.” You reminded him. "Besides, in these times, the realm has little need for fancy parties."

He still seemed uneasy and tried several other excuses, until you walked up to him, put his hand on your waist and took up his right one. Of course, he felt insecure about his missing fingers, but you didn’t even bring it up. And it was hard to focus on them, when he had your lovely eyes and your sweet smile so close.

Shireen sang the songs you taught her, and you sang along, carefully guiding him into a simple two and three step dance. He was stiff and nervous the whole time, worried about touching you inappropriately, wanting to touch you but knowing he shouldn’t. After that, several times when he stopped by to see you and Shireen, he’d be dragged into another dancing lesson. He actually did love being so close to you, and how sweet you were with the princess. It made his mind wander to what sort of family you two would have.

Davos never really saw you at a proper ball, which he considered a good and a bad thing. He’d never see you in a lovely dress enchanting the room, but he also wouldn’t have to see younger, handsomer men dancing perfectly with you.

Sometimes when you were feeling anxious, you’d wrap your arms around his warm torso and hold him close to you, humming one of the songs and swaying with him. He’d hold your waist, kissing your brow and giving you words of comfort, knowing you liked the movement and closeness.

MARGAERY TYRELL

The two of you began dancing in the practice room. Margaery was quite drawn to you based off the rumors she heard, and she wasn’t disappointed, as you two quickly dazzled the room. From then on, you often practiced together, usually trading gossip and jokes the whole time.

At the next gala, she surprised you with asking you to dance. You two twirled around the floor, enchanting anyone who watched with your combined grace, not knowing you two were cracking jokes or sharing flirtations while the music played.

You danced often together, although you both knew when it was appropriate to stop dancing together and dance with a possible suitor, it never made you happy. A few times Margaery would notice when a man was getting too close, and she’d swiftly whisk you away with a charming smile, leaving him none the wiser that you were being rescued. Often, you two would catch each other’s eyes while dancing with other partners, and she’d give you a knowing smile.

After one of the parties was winding down, you accompanied Margaery to her private chambers so you two could get out of your dresses and soothe your aching feet. She noticed you were feeling down most of the evening. “Is something the matter, love?”

“Well…” You felt foolish. “I was thinking how you and I will never get the last dance. If we ever did, people would think it was some joke.”

Before you knew it, she whisked you off the bed and onto your feet. “Then, we’ll dance right now! This will be our last one, or the one after this, or the one after that. The last dance will always be just the two of us, when we decide.”

From then on, you two had a little tradition, having your “last dance” in one of your chambers, humming to the ballroom songs in your nightgowns and usually ending it with a fit of giggles on the bed.

LORAS TYRELL

It wasn’t too surprising that Loras was just as graceful in dance as he was on horseback, and all the ladies of the realm were eager to dance with him when he attended a gala. Loras was polite, giving the proper amount of time to each lady, as he truly enjoyed galas, even if his partners could be lacking, and even if he’d never get to dance with the one he really loved.

However, Loras was surprised by you, pleasantly so. He loved that you knew the complicated steps he couldn’t try with other partners, and would give you challenges to keep up. You two would end up getting lost in the music, dancing through several songs. Several guests would stop dancing or talking just to watch, and you both usually got a hearty round of applause by the end of it.

Of course, you both would be exhausted and sweating, but he had a high respect for you and began seeing you as a friend.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

Brienne wasn’t crazy about guarding galas, as it just brought back painful memories of her own rejections and trying desperately to fit in. She’d sigh and bear it, moving all her focus to protecting you. She took the duty seriously, thus, she always watched you.

She began to admire the grace and beauty you had as you danced. She always thought you were pretty, but when you smiled and twirled, and your hair and gown moved with you, it was almost dream-like. More than once, her heart beat quickly as she watched you effortlessly pull off some move she couldn’t attempt or even name. She didn’t even pay attention to your partners, unless they were obviously pushing their boundaries - which she’d be quick to correct if you didn’t stop them first.

One day, you were in your practice room and she was once again taken with you. You noticed her staring, and asked if she’d like to help you practice.

Brienne was taken aback by the suggestion, and quickly became uncomfortable. She insisted there was no way she could be of any help. As you pressed her, she kept insisting, saying she wasn’t graceful and she’d just end up hurting you.

She sat in on several other practice sessions, and you began to get specific with her. You’d ask her to stand still or hold you a certain way so you could practice a dance. She’d get what you were doing right away, but she’d be obedient, trying to calm her beating heart. As you two became closer, and you reassured her, she’d slowly try to hold you and try a few moves, but she’d quickly lose confidence and retreat into herself.

At one gala, during the last dance, a lord was much too forward with you and even tried to follow after you once it ended. Brienne was quick to put him in his place, face-first on the ground. She escorted you back to your room, noticing how upset you were by the whole ordeal.

“Who cares about the last dance, anyway? It’s just stupid ceremony, yet men act like fools over it,” You ranted, taking off your heels and dress. Brienne agreed, trying not to be distracted by you disrobing.

“My last dance will be with whomever I please. Brienne?”

She stood at attention. “My lady?”

You held out your hands, dressed in only your nightgown. “Will you be my last dance, my knight?”

She blushed to her ears and began to refuse, but she thought of all the men who would try to grab you, coerce you into a dance or just act tasteless. Setting her sword aside, she took your hands carefully. You hummed a song and led her into it, and she swore you could hear her heart beneath her armor. In spite of all her worries and insecurities, she loved having you so close, and she couldn’t stop herself from giving you a proper knightly kiss on your hand once your impromptu dance finished.

RAMSAY BOLTON

You knew of Ramsay’s reputation when you married him. You weren’t a fool, you were aware he certainly had feelings for you, and he was willing to keep his more … unsavory aspects away from you, for the most part. He was especially good at playing the dutiful lord husband where guests were concerned, although Roose still kept an eye on him during galas.

You adored dancing and you weren’t going to stop just because he didn’t partake. But to your surprise, one day he took you in his arms, and impressed you with how he followed the music and steps. He was rather clumsy, and perhaps a little too fast, but it was obvious he had been practicing.

You complimented Ramsay, and he was clearly pleased, holding you closer and giving you that charming smile he liked to use. You could always see behind it, but this time it seemed genuine. Sometimes he’d slip up and give you a kiss, often whispering something less than appropriate to you, but before you knew it several songs played and you had enjoyed yourself.

He was still holding onto you when a man came up, asking for your hand. Ramsay looked confused, then clearly irritated, and you had to remind him. “My lord, it’s customary to change partners every other song.”

“Is that so?” His expression changed again, to a darker one you easily recognized. He handed you over to the man, obviously not enjoying it, and you hoped he stayed out of trouble.

As you danced with other partners, you could see he had a few dances with other girls, but then he returned to the table. You could tell there was strong emotion brewing behind his eyes, you just couldn’t be sure what he’d do.

One of the lords dancing with you was quite drunk, and ended up stumbling. You tried to catch him, but he grabbed ahold of you, specifically on your backside. Before you could push him off, Ramsay was already there, taking the man by the collar. The room went totally quiet as he smiled. “I’d recommend you find a different place for those hands, my lord, or they’ll end up separated from your wrists.”

You pulled Ramsay away and Roose urged the musicians to continue. Before you could even speak to Ramsay, he had you in his arms again, but this time with far more possessiveness. He gripped your waist and brought the two of you completely together, and kissing your neck as you two swayed to the song. He began to bite you and leave marks, his tone sweet but his words told you that you belonged to him, and if you or any lords forgot, he’d be more than happy to remind them.

ROOSE BOLTON

It was common knowledge among the Northern lords that Roose didn’t dance at galas. He wasn’t the only Northern lord who did this, of course, but he already had a reputation for being cold. He’d simply sit at the table, observing the guests and occasionally speaking when it was polite.

It wasn’t until Roose was courting you that he finally stood, asking you for the first dance. You were just as surprised as anyone else, but you accepted, and you couldn’t help but notice the confidence and ease that he held you with. His movements weren’t flourishing or energetic, but held your attention with his steely eyes. Occasionally, he’d murmur in your ear a lovely compliment, and it would almost break your concentration.

You noticed as the dances would go on, he’d bring you closer, and you didn’t mind at all. Afterward, he may have accepted a dance here or there from someone else, but he really didn’t get asked, and he seemed quite fine with that. He’d sit at the table at his usual spot, his eyes following you, sometimes catching your gaze and giving an expression that you couldn’t place.

He was able to catch you for the last dance once or twice, and his movements were so slow and steady, it was almost hypnotizing. You found yourself swaying into him, sometimes leaning, and you had to remind yourself to keep an appropriate distance - but then he’d gently pull you back in. As your cheeks flushed, he asked why you suddenly became so shy, and you managed some excuse. At the end of it, he took your hand and gave you a perfectly polite kiss that still gave you goosebumps because of the way he lingered and kept his eyes on you.

Once you married, he’d only dance with you. During a gala, he’d keep an eye on which men were dancing with you - if he felt one was keeping too close, or one was dancing with you too often, he’d come from seemingly nowhere and more or less threaten them away, always in his calm tone. Then he’d take you in his arms, swaying you in his gentle and slow way. As you melted into it, he’d give you a kiss on your brow or cheek. He’d whisper to you sometimes, complimenting your loveliness or reminding you that you two still had the business of making an heir.

At the last dance, he’d only seem to want you more, especially if he was feeling jealous through the night. His long fingers would softly rub the small of your back, often slipping lower if he could get away with it, and he’d give several kisses to your lips and neck. By the end of it, you’re usually a mess, and you’d want the gala to hurry up and be over so you two could get to your shared bedroom.

EDMURE TULLY

As much as his father and sisters attempted to instruct him, Edmure was always clumsy with his feet. Lysa and Catlyn often teased him, pulling him into the practice room and insisting he dance with them. He attended several galas through the years, always quite shy and sort of bumbling when he was dragged to dance with someone.

When your mother not so subtly suggested that you two dance, the panic on his face was obvious. You were probably the most beautiful girl he’d met, and now he’d be making a fool of himself in front of you. You took his hand, giving him a gentle smile, whispering that it would be okay.

You took the lead and he was surprised by how kind you were. You would quietly instruct him and carefully guide him, and he became confident, enjoying several dances with you. He was so disappointed to hand you over to someone else, he almost forgot to kiss your hand.

After you two married, Edmure actually put a lot more work into his practice, since you loved dancing so much and he wanted to spend time with you. He admired your confidence in all things, but especially when all eyes were on you as you went from partner to partner. He’d try to participate as much as he could, but he still was quite clumsy and didn’t want to slow you down, although you insisted he was doing quite well.

When the last dance came, he almost couldn’t wait to be by your side. Your cheeks would be flushed from the evening, and he’d lovingly brush some of your stray hair behind your ear before taking your hand and waist in the last dance. He probably couldn’t resist giving you a kiss on your cheek or forehead, being a little embarrassed by his own behavior. Once it finished, he’d again lose himself and give you a lovely kiss before remembering propriety and placing a kiss on your hand.

Once the evening is over, he’s incredibly attentive to you, massaging your legs and getting you water or whatever you needed. When you tease him about it, he blushes quite a bit, but says he can’t help but look after and spoil his lovely wife.

BRYNDEN TULLY

When you first asked him to dance, he laughed out loud, assuming you were joking. When you insisted, he certainly was surprised, but he set his ale down and gladly stood to join you.

The Blackfish knew he wasn’t graceful in any sense of the word, but he held you firmly, and he led with confidence. If he ever missed any steps, he recovered so smoothly it was hard to tell. He didn't give a damn about any gossip between the two of you, and respected that you felt the same.

Often you’d push yourself closer to him, and he’d grin, only holding you tighter, making your heart race. He’d have plenty of witty comments, loving to see you laugh as your cheeks were flushed from the exercise, and maybe you two could sneak in a few flirtatious whispers. He loved how small you were in his arms, and sometimes he'd make a snide comment about hoping his brother and the Riverlands court were thoroughly scandalized by the two of you.

Brynden would really only have a few dances with you before insisting you ought to partner with some younger men, and better suitors. Even if you’d pout, he’d sit down and go back to drinking and joking with his friends. However, he’d unmistakably look up and watch you, loving to see you twirl and move, and sometimes laughing to himself whenever his nephew nearly stepped on your feet. If he was feeling particularly bold and had plenty of drink, he’d swoop you up for the last dance, insisting to your partner that you were in good hands - and really, it was hard to argue with such a man, especially when he was already whisking you away.

At the end of the evening, he always gave you a “proper” kiss on the hand, which you know he wasn’t taking seriously at all, as he'd often give you a wink or would scoff at anyone staring. You’d kiss him on the cheek in return.

Once the guests were turning to their rooms, Brynden would find you, pulling you into an empty hall to give you a proper kiss, grumbling about damned propriety. You'd laugh softly as you guided him to your room, though he'd insist on carrying you, delighting in how you'd hold onto him.

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn vastly preferred the galas in Dorne, which had both livelier music and dance. As much as he enjoyed causing a little ruckus or scandal here and there at typical galas, for the most part, they uninterested him.

He ended up attending one, and he was quite ready to leave and find himself amongst far more interesting company. Then, he spotted you just in time, and he wondered where such a beautiful and graceful gem had been hiding all along. Surely he had to have heard of you, and when he realized he hadn't, he would make sure you knew of him.

He more or less whisked you from his partner and pulled you into a dance full of energy, and he was delighted as you met his unpredictable steps. He'd flirt shamelessly, asking all about you, and if you'd be interested in meeting him in a … less formal setting. There would be endless gossip on you and the Dornish prince, but you didn't care, and danced the rest of the night with Oberyn. It was obvious he loved dancing as much as you did, and he made for a wonderful partner.

You attended a gala at Dorne for his brother's birthday, and Oberyn couldn't believe his luck you that were there. He pulled you into his arms at once, bringing you close and instructing you in the more sensual Dornish dances that most of Westeros was too scandalized by. If you would have him, he'd want you to be his paramour by the end of the night.

Oberyn liked to watch you at galas, and how you adapted so well to other partners and enjoyed every song, not taking a moment to rest. It was painfully obvious how taken he was with you by the way he’d smile in your direction, and when you two danced, you seemed lost in your own world. In the evenings, he’d do his utmost to spoil you and soothe your sore legs, praising your grace and movement the entire time.

YARA GREYJOY

As hard and bitter as the Iron Islands were, they liked loud music and good drink as well as any place in the Seven Kingdoms. Sometimes a tavern would just be full of both, and a great party would carry on into the night. You loved partaking in these, losing yourself in the music and singing along with the old sea shanties, even if you had plenty of hands to slap away. You didn’t let a bunch of foolish, drunk men ruin your fun.

Yara had seen you plenty of times before, and of course you knew her. She’d sit back with a drink and watch you sway your hips to the beat, and you’d give her a smirk or a wink in return. You were patient, she was not - eventually, she’d finish off her drink, stand up, shove off whatever man was hovering around you and bring you close to her.

You loved teasing the Greyjoy captain, often saying things like “My, haven’t we met before?”. Sometimes she played into it with you, other times she just hovered close to your ear and responded, “You know exactly who I am.”

You could tell Yara wanted to see you at times other than this, by the way she’d talk of you two ‘touring’ her ship’s quarters or where she might find you again, but you liked to keep her on her toes.

PETYR BAELISH

When Petyr asked you to dance with his disarming smile, you didn’t realize what you were in for. He was an absolute natural, holding you and leading you with expertise. He moved quickly, forcing you to keep up, but you loved the challenge. Fast songs that most people would sit out for were no problem for him, and he even had several sweet compliments for you, or playfully traded a few rumors he’d heard about you and some lord, secretly hoping you’d dispel them.

As you complimented him on his dancing, stating he was a natural, he’d brush it off with false modesty and insist he just practiced… but you knew from that prideful smirk that he was glad to impress you. He especially loved seeing you flushed and breathing heavily after several dances with him, imagining you with the same face in a much different setting.

If you were stuck with a particularly boring or sleazy partner, he’d time it perfectly, swooping in to rescue you right when you were at your wit’s end. With his usual charisma, he’d tell them you were needed, perhaps giving a swift insult to them in the same breath. Sometimes he’d hint that you were already involved with someone else, and would be delighted if you wouldn’t correct him.

The other side of Petyr would come out if you were having fun with other men, laughing along with their jokes or enjoying their dancing. It wasn’t that they were men specifically, but they were lords, rich lords with far more money and lands than he had. At that moment, he’d wait again, taking you in his arms once you were free. His usual quick step and cadence would seem slower, more deliberate, as he’d bring you closer to him. He’d be smiling, but he’d whisper all the things he could give you, how much better he was than them, and how they’d all hurt you anyway.

BERIC DONDARRION

Sometimes around the campfire with the Brotherhood, they burst into song and drunkenly dance along. You often felt a little out of place with them, even if you believed in them, as you were a highborn lady. They began singing a song you were familiar with, and since you had a few drinks yourself, you pulled Beric up with you, asking for a dance. He surprised you with properly holding your waist and hand, and you remembered he was a lord before this.

The men began to whistle and holler as you two attempted a waltz, but eventually it came back to you and you guided him. He laughed, as he had mostly forgotten, and cooed about how cute and lovely you looked. Eventually you slipped a bit and he caught you, picked you up and sat you back down with him, giving you plenty of kisses and holding him to you. You teased him, saying you wanted to keep dancing, and he promised he’d join you anytime you wanted one.

He knows you left behind a lot to join the Brotherhood, and as much as you say you love him, he still sometimes worries and just wants you to be happy. So he’s sees no problem in indulging in your dancing and singing, and often gets overwhelmed with how precious you are during those times.

Since he learned how much you enjoyed it, sometimes he’d surprise you, scooping you up and pulling you into a dance. Beric adored hearing you laugh with happiness, and he thought you looked especially pretty when two danced around the fire. Sometimes you’d jokingly teach his men how to dance ‘proper’, and even though they were playing around, Beric would get a little forlorn and eventually pull you back to him.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

When you tried explaining to Tormund what galas and dancing in the South was like, he’d be quite confused, not understanding the point of it, but he just loved to hear you talk and describe it. Eventually he’d ask for a demonstration, and since you two were alone, you’d sigh and give it a try. “Well, it would be a bit easier to show you if I had another person-”

Instantly he’d stand up, and you’d laugh at his enthusiasm. You’d take his hands and guide him, rolling your eyes at his whistling when he grasps your waist and instantly brings you close to him. You try to attempt a few steps, but he’s having so much fun holding onto you and peppering you with kisses that you just laugh and let him.

He’d try to show you some wildling dances he’s picked up, although they’re few and far between, and mostly ceremonial. Again, he’d have so much fun watching you that he’d get distracted and just want to hold you.

At some point, when you’d all be gathered around a fire, someone brought up galas. You jokingly danced with Jon, who could somewhat remember the steps, and Tormund suddenly felt a little jealous. He got between the two of you, again holding to you and bringing you to his lap. He’d want to try it again, although he’d be quite drunk and would just end up holding you to him and swaying. You’d give him several kisses, all while whispering what sort of dresses you’d wear for him and how you two would dance. More than once you two would’ve been told to get a room.

501 notes · View notes

scoundrels-in-love · 4 years

Note

82 and/or 70 for the writing prompts for days (if you please :)

Incredibly late, but here it is, finally. Continuing with my October’s theme of angst... “Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.” + “What are you afraid of?”

Also on AO3.

---

It's been several hours since they arrived at Rayder's little cabin on the side of the Northern Mountains, but the wind and the rain has not let up, and the storm tolls even closer than before.

Brienne takes what little comfort she can in the crackling fire that slowly consumes what little firewood had been carried in by Rayder before his departure in spring and pieces of shabby furniture she had broken apart; she'll make sure to compensate him. Jaime had looked like he wanted to comment at that, but refrained, which must've been the testament of the pain he was in.

Not that he wasn't still running his mouth in moments of inspiration. “Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while,” Jaime had said after they had stumbled in, pushed the busted door closed and barred it to the winds, and unsuccessfully tried to hail help from SAR command center or the rest of their team. Anyone, really.

His voice had had a sort of casualness to it, as if they had been chased under some roof by a sudden downpour and merely missed their bus. As if his right arm wasn't pressed to his chest at an awkward angle that belied its mangled, broken state. As if Sansa Stark wasn't a sobbing mess in Brienne's arms, hungry and hurt. As if Brienne didn't feel each thunder's roll like a wrecking ball beating an unsteady heartbeat against her composure.

Sansa is sleeping now, curled up and pale in the flickering light, every bit of a child that she really is. Brienne tries not to think of Arya who is very likely still out there, weathering this storm somewhere. Hopefully far away from Littlefinger, who Brienne would personally geld, if he wasn't already in police's custody.

Jaime swims in her field of vision, dragging a blanket with him. She hadn't even heard him shuffle through his 24-hour pack, between trying to ignore the storm and the gurgling, muddy stream of her thoughts. She feels bad, for not having helped.

"Since the kid's got yours, thought we could share mine," he speaks in a hushed voice, but he raises the blanket and shakes it a little, aluminized plastic rustling and makes Brienne immediately look over to where Sansa's sleeping. Doesn't seem she's stirred at all.

"No need to look so alarmed, Tarth. Couldn't shock your delicate sensibilities even if I wanted to. Just a good, old-fashioned cuddle for warmth."

She frowns, opens her mouth to rebuke, but lightning strikes so close she thinks it might've embedded itself in her spine, and freezes. Moments later, thunder bellows in a way that blows any thoughts out of her head.

"Don't you trust me?" Jaime asks, mistaking her silence for something else, and bringing her back to the present with the way he genuinely sounds hurt. Sansa still sleeps the sleep of an exhausted child and Brienne is suddenly almost envious. Except she isn't. She knows the weight of such sleep too well and…

Brienne tethers herself to this moment instead.

"I do," she tells Jaime, seriously, because she does. Despite the way he frustrates her, despite the way he knows how to cut her to the bone, despite the history that drips in his footprints all the way from King's Landing, she trusts him like any other member of her team. And it's never been misplaced, least of all today when he saved her at the expense of his own arm.

"You can't take that back when this little adventure's over," he announces, though still almost whispering, before sitting down next to her. She brings the blanket around them both before Jaime can even make an attempt, careful not to jostle his right arm. She's done the best she can for it and the ibuprofen should have kicked in by now, but it's a far cry from the actual medical help he requires.

Her heart is heavy, as if every bit of mud and rock and the fallen tree that had almost swept them away has turned into guilt manifestation and nestled in there, but Brienne's got no words to express it, so instead she pinches the edges of blanket together in front of them, so he doesn't have to hold them with his left.

She doesn't keep track of time, the only landmark in its vastness is the frequent and devastating lightning and thunder duet. At least she isn't thinking about the other stormy nights, at least she isn't being swept away by the other landslides of guilt that are always biding their time.

“Truth or dare?” Jaime suddenly speaks up, bumping his shoulder into hers as if it was some kind of inside joke of theirs. “Ah, but it's always the truth with you, Tarth, isn't it?"

Brienne glances at him with a scoff, only to be caught off-guard by the way he's looking at her. Piercing and focused, more than he should with the pain he's in, and searching for something. He has made a habit of it, somehow, looking at and through her, in a way that never matches the insincere charm he often bears.

"I’ll go first," he says, lips pale and stretched into a ghoul of the bright, infuriating smiles she's so used to. "So, tell me, what are you so afraid of?”

"I thought you were supposed to go first." Her lips are dry and she escapes their blanket wrap a little to reach for a water bottle set next to the radio in front of them. There's another lightning streak and she spills some of the water, with the way she squeezes the bottle.

She drinks, ignores the way he's still staring at her. "Yes, with the question. You're shaking like a leaf, tell me why."

"It's cold," she tries to brush him off, but it'd not be convincing even if she was a better liar. She's not. And Jaime knows it - knows her. But she won't answer, she can't, she might unravel if she tries. And so they sink in silence, at least between the two of them, once she cocoons them in the blanket again.

"Fine, I will answer it myself." There is both steel and an echo of a broken string in his quiet voice and she tenses, unsure of what to expect.

"I am afraid of wildfire. And the smell of flesh burning in it. Did you know Aerys loved it? Both, really. The screams, too." He is staring blankly into the fire, but she can tell he sees something else, something he's far too late to be saved from.

"I stopped him. I had to. And the courts agreed, self defense, even though..." he gives half-shrug. "It wasn't me I was scared for." Her hand covers his left, where it's digging into his pants' leg.

"But now, I can't look at it, not even in those big, historic blockbusters. Used to love them, now I have to look up if there's wildfire in it first. Even a trailer can make me shut halfway down." He laughs a little at that, derisive and tired and she doesn't know what to think, because it turns her opinion of him upside down and at the same time, it doesn't change anything. It's still him, maddening and beautiful with sharpness. Brave to the point of recklessness. Good, too.

Maybe Jaime won't think of her much less if she says her truth, too. At least it should distract him enough to lose that expectant, empty look. Like anything cruel she could dish out he will laugh off with 'heard already', while hoarding it close like a dagger collection held under his pillow. She knows how easy it is to cut hands on them constantly.

"The storm. I am afraid of storms.”

There is pause, for a derisive comment about her choice to be in SAR or her being an unlikely Stormlander, but it doesn't come. It's a small relief, almost the opposite. If he had said that, she wouldn't be propelled forward to drop the rest of the story at his feet.

"When I was 5, I wandered too far away from home. My brother had told me Just Maid was hidden somewhere on Tarth, most likely the cave system in the cliffs. And then the storm rolled in and I got stranded on an outcrop in one of the caves as it filled with water." She tries not to recall the piercing white through the darkness, the way the water had been sloshing almost at her feet and seemed to be teeming with shadows of beasts, the way each thunderclap threatened to collapse the ageless stone onto her body. The cold and the belief she's never been so alone in this world. Rather, that the world existed somewhere far beyond her reach.

It had only been the start of the nightmare.

"They found me two days later. But Galladon, who had been desperately looking for me... He had been caught in another cave quite like me, but he. He didn't make it out." She had been crying for her brother and father the moment she was pulled into the daylight, even before, but every adult hauling her toward the ambulance had been too busy telling her it'd be okay now.

They had been lying.

"I joined SAR thinking that maybe I could make a difference, that maybe I could prevent a night like that. My father had grayed in those days, thinking both of us dead." She almost hadn’t recognized him. It had felt like the world the people pulled her into wasn't the one she came from, like she was thrown into some other, cold reality that wasn't hers.

Sometimes, Brienne still feels like that. On days like these, on days she's hurt and afraid of the storm's wrath that rattles in her bones, like some doom-promising amulet. There's been so many, since then. The fireplace she's staring at blurs at the edges.

"And then the floods took Renly. Right before my eyes. I was too slow, too afraid of the storm. I failed him, I failed him, I failed." There are so many she has failed that she can't even begin to name the pressure in her chest now. She's crying now, the blurriness leaking down her cheeks in yet unrealized sobs, but her voice grows choked before it fades out.

"You did your best, Brienne. You did your best today, you pushed where others fell back, and we found her. We found her, Brienne. She is safe from the storm and she will make it home."

Lightning flashes beyond the window pane, swallowing everything in white, horrid light. They're always so insatiable, the storms, and today they almost took Jaime, too. Or her, but part of her expects it someday.

If it had taken him…

"And I know you did your best back then, you're just incapable of doing otherwise. It isn't your fault. Nature is a dick. We aren't gods. We just try to do what they're too nonchalant for."

It doesn't heal her, because nothing will in one swift and graceful touch (she might never, the best she can hope for is a scar), but it soothes her, the conviction in his tone. Jaime's always been blunt with her, he wouldn't coddle her now if he didn't think it true.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as she starts to sob. "But Galladon," Brienne manages to whisper into his neck through sobs, part of the twisted echo that no logic and therapy manages to silence.

"You were a child, for fuck's sake. I hope your father never blamed you for it, because if he did..." Jaime trails off, with intensity she can almost physically feel like heat. Maybe it's just because he's warm and despite the blankets, she hasn't felt not freezing since they left the base in the morning.

"No, never." It might have been easier if he did, like some of the townsfolk did (Roelle, her homeroom teacher, might as well have written 'disobedient little killer' in her journal, with the contempt she filled Brienne with.). Maybe if he didn't mourn so carefully around her, as if afraid that if he showed his hurt, he'd hurt her.

But she understands, she does. After all, for the same reasons, Brienne could never speak about the canyon of hurt and guilt in her heart, because how could she ask her father to comfort her, when he was in pain, too, and because of her?

"Good," Jaime tells her and lets her cry, seemingly understanding that no shushing can fix this broken dam, battered by too many different blows today.

Maybe she dozes off, maybe she just cries softly for so long that the only thing she can register anymore is the crackle of fire, but at some point, she snaps to the realization that there's no more thunder and white hatred dancing beyond the window.

Jaime's head is resting atop hers, so she must've fallen asleep, and there is a crick in her neck, so surely his, too, but he isn't aware just yet as his breathing is deep and even. She doesn't move to wake him up, he needs every moment of rest he can get.

It's not comfortable like this and yet it somehow is. She feels empty and almost light for it, instead of just floating down the stream like... Like something else than the first comparison on her mind. Brienne closes eyes again, allows the warmth to settle somewhere deep in her, anchored there with Jaime's inhales and exhales.

And then, the radio crackles to life. "Selmy to Tarth and Lannister, can you hear me? Over."

She untangles herself from the nest they've made somehow as fast as she can while being careful so that Jaime wouldn't fall over and hurt his arm. Her hands are shaking when she grabs the radio, though for different reasons now.

"Tarth here, with Lannister. In Rayder's cabin. We have Sansa Stark, safe, but with a sprained ankle. Lannister has sustained a severe arm injury, we will not be able to make it back on our own. Over." The relief rushes to her head with speed that makes her dizzy. She feels Jaime stirring behind her and she turns to look at him, smiling.

"Copy that. We are on our way. And just so you know, Arya Stark was brought in by Sandor Clegane a few hours ago. Over."

Brienne sags because that is better news than she could've hoped for and it's so unexpectedly much.

"You did it, Briene," Jaime tells her and his smile looks more familiar. But not quite the same. Warmer, somehow. The shift is almost imperceptible, but she's always been good at telling when winter sunrises become those of spring. And he calls her by her name still, with almost fondness, that settles somewhere in her chest like a golden chain with a little bell.

"We did it," Brienne corrects him. Then, she wills her legs to function once again and gives his good shoulder a gentle squeeze on her way to wake Sansa.

Soon, they will be home and it won't be quite like before, but maybe for once the storm will leave behind something kind, instead of taking and taking with it.

#braime #braime ff #jaime x brienne #my fic #rainy writes stuff #only a month late and been written for almost as long #but y'know #i hope you enjoy #here's to october aka month of angst #it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined #sent on a cloud #rainy rambles

31 notes · View notes

musical-chick-13 · 3 years

Note

And Theon bc I love him

WHAT A COINCIDENCE I LOVE HIM TOO (this answer is gonna be a combination of books and show)

Send me a character and I’ll tell you the following:

• Did they live up to their potential? / In what ways was their potential unachieved?

-I would say yes. The only negative I have about his general arc is his death (which, see below). But Theon from the very beginning was, though not a particularly nice person, still relatable. Feeling othered, wanting to be accepted by an immediate environment that doesn’t accept you, isolated from and ostracized by your family, and the tension that comes between serving the different types of familial relationships in your life. Theon has no idea who he is, tossed aside by his blood family for not growing up with them and being “soft,” aka sort-of moral and having emotions that aren’t selfish rage or smugness (which, yep, that second part is a mood, see: my entire childhood and how no one wanted to be around an “emotional” “soft” child). And from there, he spirals out of control in a way that, while certainly not admirable by any stretch of the imagination, is still understandable in the context of the narrative and his characterization. And from there, after going through hell and quite literally losing himself (even to the point of straight-up denying rescue), he builds himself back up gradually, to the point where he expressed extreme regret for what he’s done, helps an innocent woman escape a truly horrifying situation, acknowledges that his family is generally garbage, and (in-show b/c again books aren’t finished), helping to restore his sister to power, rescuing her after his PTSD relapses while confronting Euron, and ultimately opting to protect the Starks come hell or high water in order to genuinely atone for what he’s done. He is no longer conflicted because he wants to do the right thing, and that right thing is defending the kingdom from the White Walkers and making sure Sansa and Bran are safe. And it’s no longer about fulfilling a duty or finding a family to fill the void. Because now he has found himself. I will contend that Theon has one of the best, most nuanced, most organic redemption arcs of all time. I will forever be grateful that I got to see that piece of storytelling unfold.

Although, I would love to know what he thought of Dany. A missed opportunity, that.

• How they negatively and positively affected the story.

-Positive: His arc of identity and finding where your loyalties lie ties into the overall theme of “How do you find yourself in a world where goodness, authenticity, and honesty are often punished and increasingly rare?” And it proves that governmental politics aren’t the only defining factors in decisions: familial politics can be just as difficult and dangerous, which adds yet another rich, complicated layer to the overall story. He has a genuine, honest-to-Drowned-God redemption arc, which is...not really present anywhere else in the story (no, Jaime is not on a Redemption Quest, I will die on this hill). But I think the biggest draw of Theon’s presence is that it deconstructs the whole “Character Revenge Fantasy” idea. He does bad things. We want him to be punished. But not like that. No one deserves that. How far is too far? What does retribution really look like? Given how easily that idea can be abused and go off the rails, is retribution even something to strive for? What is the point of using extreme violence/torture/mutilation/breaking someone’s psyche when it doesn’t really accomplish anything? Isn’t atonement and genuine justice a better option? It certainly was for Theon. He could only piece himself back together and do anything meaningful once he was out of his abusive environment. All of these are imporant questions that are posed by his existence in the narrative.

-Negative: Idk if I have much to say here. My biggest problem is his death (see below), but that’s not really a negative story effect so much as...being disappointing and narratively irrelevant. I gotta say, his introduction via his sister was...really weird. I genuinely have no idea why GRRM wrote that. It never came up again or had any kind of narrative ramifications and kind of cast a strange, uncomfortable light on his relationship with Asha/Yara for the remainder of the story. I can ignore and enjoy their later relationship it if I don’t think about it too hard, though, so I guess I’ll chalk it up to GRRM having a Bad Idea.

• What my favorite arc for them is.

-All of it?? Theon’s journey is kind of...one big arc, which is why I think it works so well. He has this overarching redemption plot which spans the entire series and informs every decision he makes (for good or for bad, depending on where in the aforementioned journey he is). The redemption arc isn’t bogged down with side plots or other pieces of narrative clutter, meaning it has time to grow and, thus, be gradual and realistic. If I had to choose a specific point, it’s probably when he tries to reintegrate back into society via supporting Yara. Gaining the Iron Islands’ support for her ruling, spiriting away with Euron’s fleet, and ultimately rescuing his sister after her capture. He can’t just go back into society. He’s scared. He has really bad PTSD. But he recognizes that putting his home in good hands is something bigger than just him because it’s Yara’s home, too. I just...I really love family relationships, y’all.

• What I think of their ending.

-I’m not really sure how I feel about this one. I get that the series is GrimDark™ and that people who make the right choice and fight for good die all the time, but Theon dying just felt...wrong. To me.

And, like...I get it. It makes sense to parallel his original descent into villainy (cemented by executing those two boys and pretending they were Bran and Rickon) with him dying to protect Bran himself. It ties into the whole very common trope of completing a full redemption arc by committing a completely selfless act at great personal cost. It’s kind of like the whole Missy thing in Doctor Who (which...hoo boy, that post is coming, make no mistake), where selfishness is directly opposed by making the ultimate sacrifice with no motivation for personal gain. And the fact that the last words he ever heard were “You’re a good man?” I cannot even begin to describe how much that makes me sob. But...honestly, I’m really tired of this idea that redemption has to end in death in order to be achieved or “complete.” I think it’s much more poignant to have a redeemed character live to help build a better world. Because what’s the point of telling people to be better if the “reward” is death? No one’s going to want to reform themselves if they think that’ll be the result.

I think the thing that Bugs Me™ the most is that Theon never really got to have a moment of peace when he was alive. Sansa gained the North’s love and at least had a secure childhood. Ned and Cat were happily married for years. Arya had parents who loved her and a good relationship with Jon. Jon fell in love with Ygritte and found his Night Watch Bros, and Robb (in show verse) had some very happy moments with Talisa. Davos put great stock in what he considered fulfilling friendships with Stannis and Shireen; Brienne was treated respectfully by Renly, Catelyn, and Sansa; Missandei and Grey Worm had each other and their friendship with Dany, who herself had many personal successes in her quest for the Iron Throne and saw the death of her abusive brother. Cersei even had moments with Jaime (who himself had several notable military victories and at least some time with Myrcella, as well as being gladly and deeply in love, however dysfunctional that love was), times when she successfully fought off enemies (including her dad), and some sweet moments with Tommen, as well as a huge victory via blown-up sept at the end of season 6. Theon was treated as a second-class family member by the Starks his whole life by being “traded” to them as a condition of war resolution AS A BABY, is immediately disparaged and mistreated by his immediate family when he tries to return to them, makes terrible decisions that almost cost him his conscience completely, is brutally tortured by Ramsay, is on the run with his sister from Euron almost immediately after, and has a PTSD attack that ultimatly results in him having to launch a rescue mission. And then he fights ice zombies. And then he dies. He never really...got to be happy at all? There was never any kind of “win” for him. Not even survival. The narrative couldn’t even give him that.

TLDR: Theon’s death seemed less shock-value-y than others (like, for example, Shireen or Missandei or, heck, Melisandre even), and it isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It’s narratively-informed and it makes sense as an emotional through-line, but, ultimately, Redemption Cemented By Selfless Death is a tired trope, and I honestly thought this story (which...you know...serves as a deconstruction of common fantasy tropes/book tropes in general) was better than that.

• When I wish they had died. / If I think they should’ve died.

-So here’s where we get personal™ kids.

So, it’s no secret that I am...severely mentally ill. I’ve talked about expression/presentation of mental illness in regard to Cersei a lot on this blog, and how that (as paradoxical as it may seem) helped bring a sense of comfort and emotional resonance to me. Theon, post-Ramsay, has, I think, a very clear case of PTSD. Theon is one of the few characters I’ve seen where his mental illness isn’t the cause of the bad, violent, dangerous choices he makes. It only takes root after he has made the decision and conscious effort to better himself, and it, rather than demonizing him, serve to humanize him. His trauma didn’t define him. And although a PTSD attack led to him unintentionally losing Yara to Euron’s capture, he makes every effort to rescue her, a goal he does end up achieving. It is so rare I get to see a character who goes through these things, successfully fight them and come out with positive qualities at the end. Like...switching topics a bit here, Jaime going back to King’s Landing to (try to) escape and ultimately die with Cersei made sense to me because, as Jaime says, he is a hateful man. He never made much of an honest effort to be anything else. And he never truly wanted to be good; he just wanted to be liked. He wanted to adopt some personality that would make him feel less disconnected from the rest of the world. But Theon...genuinely feels remorse for everything he’s done. He makes a concerted effort to do everything in his power to improve the lives of people he believes are good and deserve to be safe. So, just...killing him off in a Completely Selfless Sacrifice (like...you know how a lot of mentally ill people put themselves through suffering-like OCD rituals, bottling feelings, self-harm, even suicide-in a misplaced attempt to “help” or “protect other people”) seemed antithetical to everything we saw of his arc.

Ultimately, with such a humanizing, empathetic portrayal of trauma and mental health struggles, seeing Theon be killed off just...pissed me off. I am so tired of seeing mentally ill characters die. I really want to believe that I can live through and thrive in spite of the things that afflict me, and I get example after example of characters not being allowed to do that. It feels awful, quite frankly. And it makes hope that much harder.

I also just feel like...there was nothing the story gained from his death? I get the thematic parallels as mentioned earlier, but it didn’t really move the story forward in any significant way. It didn’t motivate other characters to do anything, it had no political ramifications, it didn’t serve to contribute to any kind of happy ending or commentary on society, it just...was sad. Again, I thought this story was better than that.

#theon greyjoy #got #my son #mental illness in media #meta #redemption arcs #tw: self harm mention #tw: suicide mention

11 notes · View notes

aboveallarescuer · 4 years

Text

GRRM interviews about (or mentioning) Dany - Part 1

I went to So Spake Martin and collected excerpts of GRRM's interviews that talked about Dany in some way. Some observations here:

I didn't have access to broken/unavailable links or newspapers that require subscription.

I didn't get video or podcast interviews, only ones that were written down.

I also added some excerpts about how he enjoys grey characters or how he wants to be "realistic" and other topics that may relate ... not necessarily to Dany's character, but to his writing in general. It may be useful for some metas, even if they should not be divorced from the actual text.

I didn't mind collecting interviews about the same topic.

Maybe I did a poor job collecting these interviews or the SSM is incomplete, but, in any case, there are still several key interviews missing; I couldn't find the ones about how GRRM relates to Dany's character or how he wishes the Targaryens were black, for instance.

Even with these limitations in mind, there is still quite a bit to dig into here.

November 1998

The Targaryens have heavily interbred, like the Ptolemys of Egypt. As any horse or dog breeder can tell you, interbreeding accentuates both flaws and virtues, and pushes a lineage toward the extremes. Also, there's sometimes a fine line between madness and greatness. Daeron I, the boy king who led a war of conquest, and even the saintly Baelor I could also be considered "mad," if seen in a different light. ((And I must confess, I love grey characters, and those who can be interperted in many different ways. Both as a reader and a writer, I want complexity and subtlety in my fiction))

December 1998

Was it a conscious decision to paint things in grey, killing off good guys, etc.

Definitely a conscious decision. Both as a reader and a writer, I prefer my plots to be unpredictable and my characters to be painted in shades of grey, rather than in blacks and whites.

July 1999

Just out of being curious how a writer goes about his work -- do you generally write a certain POVs chapters in batches? Or are Dany's chapters, given how generally unconnected they are to the rest of the books as she goes along her own plot thread, easier to do that way? I suppose the momentum can help with a tough character.

Yes, I generally get in a groove on a particular character and write several chapters or chunks of chapters at once, before hitting a wall. When I do hit a wall, I switch to another character. Some characters are easier to write and some harder, however. Dany and Bran have always been toughest, maybe because they are heaviest on the magical elements... also, Bran is the youngest of POV kids, and very restricted as well because of his legs. At the other end of the spectrum, the Tyrion chapters often seem to write themselves. The same was true for Ned.

Jon was not born "more than 1 year" before Dany... probably closer to eight or nine months or thereabouts.

November 1999

Also, just how much impact did the Rhoynar have on the modern customs of Dorne? Beyond the gender-blind inheritance laws, the couple of Rhoynish gods that smallfolk might have turned into saints or angelic-type beings, and perhaps the round shields, that is. In particular, given that Nymeria was a warrior-queen, is there a certain amazon tradition?

The Rhoynar did impact Dorne in a number of ways, some of which will be revealed in later books. Women definitely have more rights in Dorne, but I would not call it an "Amazon" tradition, necessarily. Nymeria had more in common with someone like Daenerys or Joan d'Arc than with Brienne or Xena the Warrior Princess.

September 2000

It has been my intention from the start to gradually bring up the amount of magic in each successive volume of A Song of Ice and Fire, and that will continue. I will not rule out the possibility of a certain amount of "behind the scenes" magic, either. But while sorcerous events may impact on my characters, as with Renly or Lord Beric or Dany, their choices must ultimately remain their own.

November 2000

This third Targaryen might very well be -not- a Targaryen, to quote his exact words... "Three heads of the dragon... yes... but the third will not nessesarily BE a Targaryen..."

He mentioned his frustration that Tranter books don't have maps since Tranter tends to describe journeys using ALL the available landmarks (I also stupidly complained about there not being a map of the landmass Dany's on in the books, and he VERY politely pointed out to me that there was one in SoS [O the shame!]).

December 2000

NG: A Song of Ice and Fire undergoes a very interesting progression over its first three volumes, from a relatively clear scenario of Good (the Starks) fighting Evil (the Lannisters) to a much more ambiguous one, in which the Lannisters are much better understood, and moral certainties are less easily attainable. Are you deliberately defying the conventions and assumptions of neo-Tolkienian Fantasy here?

GRRM: Guilty as charged.

The battle between good and evil is a legitimate theme for a Fantasy (or for any work of fiction, for that matter), but in real life that battle is fought chiefly in the individual human heart. Too many contemporary Fantasies take the easy way out by externalizing the struggle, so the heroic protagonists need only smite the evil minions of the dark power to win the day. And you can tell the evil minions, because they're inevitably ugly and they all wear black.

I wanted to stand much of that on its head.

In real life, the hardest aspect of the battle between good and evil is determining which is which.

NG: You've frequently expressed admiration for Jack Vance. How Vancean is A Song of Ice and Fire in conception and style? In particular, does the narrative thread featuring the exotic wanderings of Daenerys Targaryen function in part as a tribute to Vance, to his picaresque inventiveness?

GRRM: Jack Vance is the greatest living SF writer, in my opinion, and one of the few who is also a master of Fantasy. His The Dying Earth (1950) was one of the seminal books in the history of modern Fantasy, and I would rank him right up there with Tolkien, Dunsany, Leiber, and T.H. White as one of the fathers of the genre.

All that being said, I don't think A Song of Ice and Fire is particularly Vancean. Vance has his voice and I have mine. I couldn't write like Vance even if I tried... and I did try, once. The first Haviland Tuf story, "A Beast for Norn," was my attempt to capture some of Vance's effects, and Tuf is a very Vancean hero, a distant cousin to Magnus Ridolph, perhaps. But what that experiment taught me was that only Jack Vance can write like Jack Vance

NG: Three more volumes of A Song of Ice and Fire wait to be written. What shape do you expect them to take, and are their titles finalized as yet?

GRRM: Yes, three more volumes remain. The series could almost be considered as two linked trilogies, although I tend to think of it more as one long story. The next book, A Dance With Dragons, will focus on the return of Daenerys Targaryen to Westeros, and the conflicts that creates. After that comes The Winds of Winter. I have been calling the final volume A Time For Wolves, but I am not happy with that title and will probably change it if I can come up with one that I like better.

You tend to write protagonists with strongly negative personality quirks, people who certainly don't fit the standard mold of a hero. People like Tuf in the Tuf Voyaging series, and Stannis and Tyrion inSong of Ice and Fire. Do you deliberately inject your characters with unattractive elements to make readers consciously think about whether they like them and why?

Martin: [Laughs.] Well, I don't know that I'd choose the word "unappealing," but I look for ways to make my characters real and to make them human, characters who have good and bad, noble and selfish, well-mixed in their natures. Yes, I do certainly want people to think about the characters, and not just react with a knee-jerk. I read too much fiction myself in which you encounter characters who are very stereotyped. They're heroic-hero and dastardly-villain, and they're completely black or completely white. And that's boring, so far as I'm concerned. It's also unreal. If you look at real human history, even the darkest villains had some good things about them. Perhaps they were courageous, or perhaps they were occasionally compassionate to an enemy. Even our greatest heroes had weaknesses and flaws.

There seem to be two different styles competing throughout the series: historical fantasy in the Seven Kingdoms series, and a softer Roger Zelazny/Arabian Nights style for the scenes abroad. Is there a conscious split between the two for you, or is it just an aspect of the setting?

Martin: I try to vary the style to fit each of the characters. Each character should have his or her own internal voice, since we're inside their heads. But certainly the setting has great impact. Dany is moving through exotic realms that are perhaps stranger to us than Westeros, which is more based in the medieval history with which we're more familiar in the West, so perhaps those chapters seem more colorful and fanciful.

You do tend to be very brutal to your characters.

Martin: Well, yes. But you know, I think there's a requirement, even in fantasy--it comes from a realm of the imagination and is based on fanciful worlds, but there's still a necessity to tell the truth, to try to reflect some true things about the world we live in. There's an inherent dishonesty to the sort of fantasy that too many people have done, where there's a giant war that rips the world apart, but no one that we know is ever really seriously inconvenienced by this. You see the devastated villages where unnamed peasants have lived, and they're all dead, but the heroes just breeze through, killing people at every hand, surviving those dire situations. There's a falsehood to that that troubles me. A writer can choose not to write about war. You don't have to write about war if that's not a subject that interests you, or you find it too brutal. But if you are going to write about war, I think you need to tell the truth about it, and the truth is that people die, and people die in ugly ways, and even some of the good guys die, even people who are loved.

June 2001

I'm a bit concerned about Dany's skills as a commander. To succeed with the invasion of Westeros, I believe she will need a lot of sound military advice (both tactically and strategically). What's your thoughts on this issue?

She will need counsel, yes... she will also need to learn to tell the good counsel from the bad, which is perhaps the hardest task of all.

Was it difficult to you when you wrote Dany's scene with the slavers in SOS? Was that one of the moments where the character spoke to you and changer their direction? Cause for me that act of Dany's seemed out of character. I know she dislikes slavery, but she must have killed an awful lot of innocent people there, plus her motives to me seemed suspect. Yes she freed the slaves, but she also got a large army for nothing. And right after she left the slavery started up again.

Dany is still very young. She has lessons to learn. That was one of them. It is not as easy to do good as it might seem, no matter how noble your intentions.

February 2002

1. Was Mirri Maz Duur telling the truth when she told Daenerys Targaryen that the latter could never have children again?

I am sure Dany would like to know. Prophecy can be a tricky business.

3. Is Daenerys Targaryen or anyone in her entourage able to tell whether her dragons are male or female? (Is the question relevant to dragons?)

Not yet.

4. Daenerys Targaryen believed that her brother Rhaegar loved Lyanna Stark. Does she also believe that Lyanna Stark returned this love?

Dany is not sure what to believe.

5. Since all of their mothers died, who gave Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen and Tyrion Lannister their names?

Mothers can name a child before birth, or during, or after, even while they are dying. Dany was most like named by her mother, Tyrion by his father, Jon by Ned.

March 2002

3) Is your world round. I mean if Dany traveled far enough east couldnt she come to the other side of westeros?

Yes, the world is round. Might be a little larger than ours, though. I was thinking more like Vance's Big Planet.... but don't hold me to that.

Oh, stupid fan question. I've been trying to get a visual of what the Quarth look like in my mind. In terms of what race they might be in our world. Tall and pale but I don't believe their hair color was mentioned. Would they be Western European looking? Slavic? Whenever their culture is mentioned I always think of either Persian or Indians.

I have tried to mix and match ethnic and cultural traits in creating my imaginary fantasy peoples, so there are no direct one-for-one correspodences. The Dothraki, for example, are based in part on the Mongols, the Alans, and the Huns, but their skin coloring is Amerindian. The Qartheen are an even more exotic hybrid, and offhand I don't recall where I got all the cuttings.

April 2002

[Shaun] How do you view Dany's place in the series. She seems an heroic character to me, but the writeups on the back covers always speak of her as a villain...

[+GeorgeRRMartin] to shaun ignore the blurbs on the back cover and make up your own mind who is the hero and who is the villain

[Erix] Dany will be betrayes 3 times. Did ser Jorah betray here once for money? so does this make it 2 betrayels so far?

[+GeorgeRRMartin] to erix no comment (twice!)

He said that in his original plan (when he wanted to write a trilogy) the Red Wedding would take place in book one, and Dany's landing in Westeros in book two. Now he says that Dany's arrival in Westeros will take place in book 5, A Dance with Dragons.

December 2003

Shaw: You created Jon as a bastard and an outcast from the get-go. Yet he's also one of the most attractive characters. Did you choose to make Jon a bastard to make him more attractive as an "underdog," or was his bastard birth central to the shaping of his character itself?

Martin: Almost all the characters have problems in some way. Very few of my major viewpoint characters have all the answers or have an easy path through life. They all have burdens to bear. Some of them are women in a society that doesn't necessarily value women or give them a lot of power or independence. Tyrion of course is a dwarf which has its own challenges. Dany is an exile, powerless, penniless, at the mercy of other people, and Jon is a bastard. These things shape their characters. Your experiences in life, your place in life inevitably is going to change who you are.

Shaw: As the novels unfold, Jon becomes increasingly identified with the northern cold and ice, just as Dany is closely tied to the southern heat and fire. Will these two ultimately embody the central image of the series, Ice and Fire?

Martin: That's certainly one way to interpret it. That's for my readers to argue out. That may be one possible meaning. There may be a secondary meaning, or a tertiary meaning as well.

Shaw: Are all the Targaryans immune to fire?

Martin: No, no Targaryans are immune to fire. The thing with Dany and the dragons, that was just a one-time magical event, very special and unique. The Targaryans can tolerate a bit more heat than most ordinary people, they like really hot baths and things like that, but that doesn't mean they're totally immune to fire, no. Dragons, on the other hand, are pretty much immune to fire.

February 2004

Jon and Dany will be the two focal characters of AFfC (in the sort of way in which Ned was the focal character of AGoT).

May 2005

He doesn't feel that it's fair to call his work gratuitous. He wants the reader to live vicariously though his books (a function of fantasy writing), feel the characters emotions. If a character is at a feast, he wants the reader to smell the food, experience Dany's discomfort at being served an unappetizing dish. The same with the sex scenes-he wants his readers to feel like they are there.

Another bit of information that I found interesting- we *WILL* hear about the POVs who will not have front stage as it were, but will have it in ADwD. The reports of those chars will be somewhat garbled and messy as can be expected from any news that has travelled that distance and is that important. ex) Varys' manipulation of the Dany information, or Theon's skinning of the miller's information (we didn't know it wasn't Bran and Rickon until later). *THOSE* are the kind of reports we will see in AFFC about the missing POVs. We will get information on them, but have no idea which parts, if any, are correct.

I have some more things to add about things I asked, but I will probably trickle out things as I sober up and recall them. :p

The following will show up in ADwD:

Arya, Bran, Jon, Dany, Tyrion, and Asha (she will be in both books, as she gets involved in affairs of the North)

[Note: Spoiler POV redacted] has the most number of chapters in AFFC, while Dany has the most in ADwD. Also, the number of Tyrion chapters is going up from 4 to 7 in ADwD (his storyline is basically beinbg expanded).

GRRM said Dany and the Wall is excluded. That removes Dany and probably Tyrion plus the Wall which presumably means Jon and Davos.

Dragons will deal with Daenerys and the North. He decided to split by character, rather than in the middle of the story, as he wanted a complete book, rather than FfC part I and II.

This is no hoax.

I swear it by ice and fire. I swear that I will never post again should this prove false. I swear I will never touch wine again, if it is not true.

George said it is done.

But he had to make a major change. It had grown too large.

Daenerys will not appear. There will be little if any action in the North. Those chapters will be moved into the next book, which should come out shortly thereafter.

AFFC will be the size of AGoT.

The next book will still be called aDwD. (Dany will be in it after all).

That being said, Dany will be presented with a map of the world from a fellow whose name I cannot remember because the pronunciation was very odd indeed.

There was some talk about the Targaryen bloodline and how it worked when there weren't enough siblings to marry. Uncle might marry niece or aunt, nephew. There were also cousins in that family at one time.

Dany has more chapters than anyone. He also said that Dany's love life is going to become "extremely complex"

Parris has proclaimed that Arya cannot die! (No, she wasn't there :( but he mentioned it when someone said that he's not allowed to kill Dany)

So yeah, in short, book not done but soon, lots of Dany, the Ironborn, and the Dornish, and Renly and Loras were INDEED knocking boots.

October 2005

The main point of discussion was the reason for the five-year wait since A Storm of Swords. I'm sure most of you know this already but, briefly, he wanted a 5-year gap between ASOS and ADWD to allow the kids to grow up. Some characters, mainly the children and Daenerys, really benefited from this, but most of the other characters suffered and the book was degenerating into a flashback-fest. After about a year he decided that wasn't working, ditched everything, and started again.

November 2005

His analogy is that the series is a symphony and each book is a movement, and explained that he likes each character arc to have some sort of finale in each book, whether it's on a cliffhanger, or a completion of some phase of the character's story arc (or death hehe). Ultimately, he decided to divide it geographically as you all know, since Dany's story is taking place in Martinland's China, and the rest is taking place in Martinland's England.

One man asked whether George ever learns of people naming their kids after his characters. He pointed the guy to his website, where he even has baby pictures of Sansas, Aryas, even a Daenarys, Nymeria, Eddard, Bran, Chataya, and several Cerseis. He won't take credit for the Jons, though (hehe). It was great; someone in the audience made a crack about Cersei, and someone else said "as long as they aren't twins"). He mentioned meeting a little girl whose parents had named her Daenarys and he made a joke about how she was really going to hate spelling that when she gets to first grade. He also once got a letter from a 23-year-old girl named Lya whose mother said she was named after a character in one of his stories (A Song for Lya) and wanted to know who the heck Lya was. George sent her a copy! Hehe. He said he finds it flattering overall, but thinks it's a bad idea when the story isn't done yet and some of the characters will come to a bad end, and then those parents will be pissed with him!

He was asked or mentioned most of the stuff that's already been covered, but one thing he talked about that I found particularly interesting was Romanticism. He said that he is a romantic, in the classical sense. He said the trouble with being a romantic is that from a very early age you keep having your face smashed into the harshness of reality. That things aren't always fair, bad things happen to good people, etc. He said it's a realists world, so romantics are burned quite often. This theme of romantic idealism conflicting with harsh reality is something he finds very dramatic and compelling, and he weaves it into his work. Specifically he mentioned that the Knight exemplifies this, as the chivalric code is one of the most idealistic out there, protection of the weak, paragon of all that is good, fighting for truth and justice. The reality was that they were people, and therefore could do horrible cruel things, rape, pillage, wanton killing, made all the more striking or horrifying because it was in complete opposition to what they were "supposed" to be. Really interesting stuff.

At the San Diego signing, I asked GRRM at the Q&A, "Besides Dany's dragons, have all the Targaryen dragons been descendants of Aegon the Conquerors three?" GRRM answered "yes".

And that one of the things he regrets losing from the POV split is that he was doing point and counterpoint with the Dany and Cersei scenes--showing how each was ruling in their turn.

Q: 5-year gap?

A: It worked for characters like Arya and Dany but not so much for the adults or those who had a lot of action coming. He was writing chapters where Jon thought, "Well, not a lot has happened these past five years, it's been kinda nice." And Cersei chapters where she thought, "Well, I've had to kill sooo many people the last five years." So he ended up dropping it. He said he would have done it sooner if he hadn't told so many fans about it. And there is no gap anymore. "If a twelve-year old has to conquer the world, then so be it."

(Petyr is just Peter, for example.)

Some he did say during the course of the evening:

Cersei = Sir-say

Jaime = Jamie (I think that was obvious but just in case)

Sansa = Sahn-sa

Tyrion = Tear-ion

Arya = Ar-Ya (Ex, Are ya?)

Daenerys = Dane-err-is

TARGARYEN KINGS

SUBMITTED BY: AMOKA

[Note: The following information was sent to Amok for his contribution to the Fantasy Flight Games artbook.]

These are all Targaryens, of course, so there should be a strong family resemblence from portrait to portrait. All of them (except as noted) will have the purple eyes and silver-gold hair for which House Targaryen is noted. All of them should be wearing crowns... the same crown in many of the pix, though it will change once or twice along the way, as noted.

The hard part will be making each of the kings an individual, despite the similarities, and evoking each one's character through facial features, pose, clothing, background, and other elements in the portrait.

Here's the lineup:

DAENERYS I. Daenerys Stormborn. No description necessary, I assume. Show her wearing the three-headed dragon crown she was given in Qarth, as described in A CLASH OF KING. Might be good to include the three dragons in the picture. Show them very young, as hatchings, one in her lap, one wrapped around her arm and shoulder, one flying just above her.

January 2006

He repeatedly emphasized that he prefers to write grey characters, because in real life people are complex; no one is pure evil or pure good. Fiction tends to divide people into heroes who do no wrong and villains who go home and kick their dogs and beat their wives, but that reality is much different. He cited a soldier who heroically saves his friends' lives, but then goes home and beats his wife. Which is he, hero or villain? Martin said both and that neither act cancels out the other.

February 2006

NAERYS TARGARYEN

SUBMITTED BY: AMOKA

[Note: The following continues GRRM's series of descriptions of notable Targaryens (and Targaryen bastards) for Amoka.]

The sister of King Aegon the Unworthy and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight was beautiful as well, but hers was a very fine and delicate beauty, almost unworldy. She was a wisp of a woman, smaller even than Dany (to whom she bears a certain resemblence), very slender, with big purple eyes and fine, pale, porcelain skin, near translucent. Naerys had none of Dany's strength, however.

July 2006

George regrets that Cersei and Dany will not be contrasted directly. I told him of how some dedicated boarders try to defeat him and piece together a timeline. George replied that he tries to keep it vague.

He likes the extra breathing room to flesh out the characters. Bran didn't have any chapters and Dany's ending was different. Now he likes the way she ended. I think he actually may be doing more with Dany.

SPOILER: Possible for ADWD

The second Dance of Dragons does not have to mean Dany's invasion.

Geroge stopped himself short and said he shouldn't say anymore. The response came because of my question of whether the dance would take place in ADWD because AFFC and ADWD parallel. So now my friends, speculate away.

February 2007

Some other bits of info from Q&A: In Song, he considers Bran the hardest viewpoint character to write, while Tyrion is the easiest. The Red Wedding was partly based on a historical event in Scotland called the Black Dinner. His biggest lament in splitting A Feast for Crows from A Dance with Dragons is the parallels he was drawing between Circe and Daenerys.

E. His dragons have no front limbs -- just rear legs and wings. He said that although the traditional depiction of dragons as six limbed creatures has become a staple of fantasy -- the fact that no animal in nature has ever evolved in such a way always bothered him. As a sci-fi writer originally, he insists on the depiction of the dragons with just four limbs. I never heard that before and though it was pretty neat.. In addition, he said that although AsoIaF dragons are intelligent, they cannot speak and will never evolve into the sort of dragons we see in Tolkien or Le Guin. Specifically he said’ Drogon is never going to share witty aphorisms with Dany. The Targaryens rule by Fire and Blood and that is what the dragons represent in the story". I guess the power icon is more Nedly for them than some of us thought when they were first rolled out back in AfoD.

F. Cersei and Daenerys are intended as parallel characters --each exploring a different approach to how a woman would rule in a male dominated, medieval-inspired fantasy world.

May 2007

GRRM: Well, the next book out is A Dance with Dragons, of course, and that's the fifth book of the series but in some ways it's really 4B, as those of you who follow the series knows that A Feast for Crows got so big I had to pull it in half. I split it not by chopping it right in the middle but I split it by characters. The one I'm working on now is going to have an awful lot of the characters that that aren't in A Feast for Crows, it's going to have a lot of Jon Snow, a lot of Daenerys, a fair amount of Davos, and it's going to have have a lot of "me" -- Tyrion, who is your favorite, and my favorite, so I'm enjoying writing a lot of those right now.

And you know I got phone calls from people at the studio afterwards saying, "There is a way to make this as a feature. There's a way to do it as a movie. You could just take Jon Snow and Daenerys and just concentrate on them and get rid of some of the minor characters." And it just, it was kind of appalling because, much as I love Jon Snow and Daenerys, I didn't want to lose the other characters. I mean this is an epic and the only way we could conceive of doing it properly was to tell it as a series. And you can't do it as a series where's it interrupted every twenty minutes by a commercial for toothpaste. And you can't do it where I'd have Tyrion saying the things he says and doing the things he says, all of which network TV would have had a huge problem with.

So we really felt from the beginning that the best way to do this was on HBO or possibly Showtime.

August 2007

Just because I still love Popinjay and the Turtle and my other Wild Cards characters does not mean I have stopped loving Arya and Tyrion and Dany.

April 2008

BERBERS AND DANY

[Did the unrest during the transition between Arab and Berber rule inspire Dany's storyline?]

No. Sounds fascinating, but I'm afraid I don't have enough experience with the Berbers or their history to draw on them for inspiration.

July 2008

GRRM was asked the typical question, of where the idea for ASOIAF had come from. He replied that in the summer of 1991, when he was working as a Hollywood screenwriter, in a gap between assignments he began work on a new novel, a sf novel called Avalon ( personal note, no I would not swap it for ASOIAF, but I would have loved to have read it), set in his future history universe. And somehow, he found himself writing the first chapter of AGOT, about the direwolf pups un the snow. And after that came a second chapter and pretty soon he spent the whole summer writing AGOT.

From there he started to plan a trilogy, since there were 3 main conflicts ( Starks/Lannisters; Dany; and the Others) it felt it would neatly fit into a trilogy (ah!), but like Tolkien said, the tale grew in the telling.

April 2010

GRRM said he regretted mentioning the eye color of any of his characters. He also noted that as a brown-eyed person, he finds it annoying that brown-eyed characters are always portrayed as ordinary, while the doers of great deeds always have blue or hazel eyes or something - he notes that he himself was somewhat guilty of this with the violet eyes of Dany or the red eyes of Melisandre.

(25) Any particular storyline he is enjoying right now?

He said that Dany's storyline is emerging in increasing importance. But he is struggling with the Meereenese Knot. So he can't say he is enjoying it. But he is really enjoying writing Arya's story. He could write an entire novel of it. He could write an entire YA novel about her...(at this point the audience starting clapping and calling out YES! DO IT!)...but her entire story isn't part of the greater novel. He has 12 novels worth of info for this book and its hard to fit it all in.

February 2011

Sam Thielman: So, why did "A Dance With Dragons" take longer to write than the other books in the series?

George R. R. Martin: Well, you know, that's a good question and I'm not sure I have an easy answer for that. #1, none of the books have been exactly fast, I mean, I'm a slow writer, I've always been a slow writer, and the books are huge. I mean, they're three, four, five times the size of most novels being published. And they have extremely complex interweaving storylines. I remember back when I did the first book, 'A Game of Thrones,' Asimov's Magazine wanted to publish an excerpt and I pulled out the Daenerys storyline from the first book, and they published that as an excerpt, and after I pulled out all the Daenerys chapters and put them together for Asimov's, I did a word count and discovered, technically, I had a novel, just about Daenerys. I'm never gonna be one of those writers who has a book a year, or two books a year like some of my colleagues do. I simply can't write that fast. I do a lot of polishing and revising, and it's a big task.

July 2011

Tad: Question: Do you purposely start a character as bad so you can later kill them?

GRRM: No. What is bad? Bad is a label. We are human beings with heroism and self-interest and avarice in us and any human is capable of great good or great wrong. In Poland a couple of weeks ago I was reading about the history of Auschwitz – there were startling interviews with the people there. The guards had done unthinkable atrocities, but these were ordinary people. What allowed them to do this kind of evil? Then you read accounts of acts of outrageous heroism, yet the people are criminals or swindlers, one crime or another, but when forced to make a choice they make a heroic choice. This is what fascinated me about the human animal. A lot of fantasy turns on good and evil – but my take on it is that it’s fought within the human heart every day, and that’s the more interesting take. I don’t think life is that simple.

Tad: All of us work with multiple viewpoints – I hear this next question a lot: with story-driven plots, how do you decide which character viewpoint to write from – do you write several characters, taste them, then decide?

GRRM: No, not several, at least not intentionally. I had more choice early in the series, I frequently had situations where 2 or 3 were present at the same time. But as it’s progressed they have dispersed, so I need to be in the viewpoint of whoever’s there. There are some cases when I have a choice and in that case, I weigh which one. Without talking exactly about "The Mereenese Knot" – I’m not going to talk exactly about it, but but [there was a time when] a number of viewpoints were coming together in Mereen for a number of events, and I was wrestling with order and viewpoint. The different points-of-view had different sources of knowledge and I never could quite solve it. I was rewriting the same chapter over and over again – this, that, viewpoint? – spinning my wheels. It was one of the more troublesome thickets I encountered. There’s a resolution not to introduce new viewpoint characters, but the way I finally dealt with things was with Barristan, I introduced him as a viewpoint character as though he’d been there all along. That enabled me to clear away some of the brush.

Tad: Question: do you choose characters because they will provide you with a viewpoint or something characterful?

GRRM: Actually, no. I try to give each viewpoint character an arc of his own, and ideally I would like to think that you could pull the material out – in the early books I was able to pull out the Daenerys chapters and publish them separately as a novella, and I won a Hugo Award for that. It'd be great if I could pull out each [character-arc] and it would resemble a story. In some cases a character died and that was a very short story. My prologue and epilogue characters always die but even then I try to give them a story.

Your books, especially recently, are full of women trying to exert power in a male dominated world who have to compromise themselves along the way. Are you trying to make a feminist statement?

You could certainly interpret it that way. I don't presume to say I'm making a statement of this type or that type. But it is certainly a patriarchal society, I am trying to explore some of the ramifications of that. I try to write women as people, just as I try to write any other characters. Strong and weak, and brave and cowardly, and noble and selfish. It has been very gratifying to me how many women read my work and how much they like at least some of my female characters.

The one thing I must confess to being frustrated by is the first Tyion chapter where you set up this expectation that he’s going to meet Dany, and I got excited. Then about 600 pages later I’m realizing, “OK, that’s not gonna happen, at least not in this book.”

Yeah, it’s the “kind of bring ’em together but don’t give them the confirmation.” In some ways it’s not so different than the sexual tension in TV shows — are Catherine and Vincent [on Beauty and the Beast] finally going to kiss? Same philosophy. This is the kind of stuff I wrestle with. I could have ended the next chapter: Tyrion gets off the boat and there’s Dany. But the journey itself has its own interest.

There’s a point in the series where you feel like you’re reading a bunch of separate stories. Toward the end of Dance, you feel the threads starting to come back together. Is that accurate?

That’s certainly the intent, and always was the intent. Tolkien was my great model for much of this. Although I differ from Tolkien in important ways, I’m second to no one in my respect for him. If you look at Lord of the Rings, it begins with a tight focus and all the characters are together. Then by end of the first book the Fellowship splits up and they have different adventures. I did the same thing. Everybody is at Winterfell in the beginning except for Dany, then they split up into groups, and ultimately those split up too. The intent was to fan out, then curve and come back together. Finding the point where that turn begins has been one of the issues I’ve wrestled with.

There was a fair amount of explicit sex in the series and some fans of the books were taken aback.

One of the reasons I wanted to do this with HBO is that I wanted to keep the sex. We had some real problems because Dany is only 13 in the books, and that’s based on medieval history. They didn’t have this concept of adolescence or the teenage years. You were a child or you were an adult. And the onset of sexual maturity meant you were an adult. So I reflected that in the books. But then when you go to film it you run into people going crazy about child pornography and there’s actual laws about how you can’t depict a 13 year old having sex even if you have an 18 year old acting the part — it’s illegal in the United Kingdom. So we ended up with a 22 year old portraying an 18 year old, instead of an 18 year old portraying a 13 year old. If we decided to lose the sex we could have kept the original ages. And once you change the age of one character you have to change the ages of all the characters, and change the date of the war [that dethroned the Mad King]. The fact we made all these changes indicates how important we thought sex was.

References the chapbook with the first three Dany chapters from 2005 and that it offers insight as to how much the book has changed since then.

There's been an interesting discussion on our forum concerning "orientalism" as it's expressed in your work, and one question it's led to among readers is whether you've ever considered a foreign point of view characters in Essos, to give a different window into events there.

No, this story is about Westeros. Those other lands are important only as they reflect on Westeros.

Part of the difficulty of this particular novel was what you called the "Meereenese Knot", trying to get everything to happen in just the right order, pulling various plot strands together in one place, and part of the solution was the addition of another point of view character. Was this something where you tried writing it from a number of different point of views before settling on a new one? Did you actively resist adding a new character?

The Meerenese Knot related to everyone reaching Dany. There's a series of events that have to occur in Meereen, things that are significant. She has various problems to deal with at the start: dealing with the slavers, threats of war, the Sons of the Harpy, and so on. At the same time, there's all of these characters trying to get to her. So the problem was to figure out who should reach her and in what order, and what events should happen by the time they've reached her. I kept coming up with different answers and I kept having to rewrite different versions and then not being satisfied with the dynamics until I found something that was satisfactory. I thought that solution worked well, but it was not my first choice.

There's a Dany scene in the book which is actually one of the oldest chapters in the book that goes back almost ten years now. When I was contemplating the five year gap [Martin laughs here, with some chagrin], that chapter was supposed to be the first Daenerys chapter in the book. Then it became the second chapter, and then the third chapter, and it kept getting pushed back as I inserted more things into it. I've rewritten that chapter so much that it ended in many different ways.

There's a certain time frame of the chronology where you can compare to A Feast for Crows and even A Storm of Swords and figure out when they would reach Meereen and the relative time frames of each departure and each arrival. But that doesn't necessarily lead to the most dramatic story. So you look at it and try and figure out how to do it. I also wanted to get across how difficult and dangerous it was to travel like this. There are many storms that will wreck your ship, there are dangerous lands in between where there are pirates and corsairs, and all that stuff. It's not like hopping on a 747, where you get on and then step off the plane a few hours later. So all of these considerations went into the Meereenese Knot.

Then there's showing things after [an important event], which proved to be very difficult. I tried it with one point of view character, but this was an outsider who could only guess at what was going on, and then I tried it with a different character and it was also difficult. The big solution was when I hit on adding a new point of view character who could give the perspective this part of the story needed.

March 2012

If you listen to the CBC interview which you'll see the link for under General ASOIAF, much of what he said was repeated tonight. He admitted Tyrion was his favourite, and if he was having dinner with 3 characters, they would be Tyrion, Maester Aemon and then he thought of Arya, but feared she would throw food at him, so he'd go with Dany, because she's hot!

June 2012

Near the end of the signing, a man presented Martin with two books and his daughter. “This is Daenerys,” he told Martin, “I sent you a letter about her five years ago.” Daenerys, a squirmy blonde in a pink jacket, looked about five years old. “Hello there,” Martin said, “do you like dragons?” She nodded, and they made room for the next fan.

Now that we know how the "Meereenese knot" played out, what was the problem with this? For example, was it the order in which Dany met various characters, or who, when, and how someone would try to take the dragons?

Now I can explain things. It was a confluence of many, many factors: lets start with the offer from Xaro to give Dany ships, the refusal of which then leads to Qarth's declaration of war. Then there's the marriage of Daenerys to pacify the city. Then there's the arrival of the Yunkish army at the gates of Meereen, there's the order of arrival of various people going her way (Tyrion, Quentyn, Victarion, Aegon, Marwyn, etc.), and then there's Daario, this dangerous sellsword and the question of whether Dany really wants him or not, there's hte plague, there's Drogon's return to Meereen...

All of these things were balls I had thrown up into the air, and they're all linked and chronologically entwined. The return of Drogon to the city was something I explored as happening at different times. For example, I wrote three different versions of Quentyn's arrival at Meereen: one where he arrived long before Dany's marriage, one where he arrived much later, and one where he arrived just the day before the marriage (which is how it ended up being in the novel). And I had to write all three versions to be able to compare and see how these different arrival points affected the stories of the other characters. Including the story of a character who actually hasn't arrived yet.

October 2012

What's exciting to me about this session is that in this conversation, Martin talks at length about craft. He's been in the business of telling stories for many decades -- as a television writer and as a writer of fiction -- and he has a great deal to say about what works and what doesn't in different mediums. How is information conveyed to the audience (or the reader)? How do you keep sophisticated audiences on their toes? How do you create worlds in which most characters have to choose between the best of many bad options? How do you examine power from the perspective of outsiders, rejects and those who are constrained by conventional wisdom? Martin shared the insights of someone who has been contemplating these questions -- practically and philosophically -- for a very long time.

About midway through the podcast, there's a interesting discussion of his use of "close third person" narration and why that's effective in the creation of memorable characters. It's also interesting to note that he doesn't write the chapters in the order in which they appear in the books, and that he may write four or five Tyrion chapters before stopping and switching to another character. (Another fun fact that emerged -- and I'm sure hardcore "ASoIaF" fans already knew this -- Martin originally signed a contract for a book trilogy. I'm betting his publishers aren't sad he's now working on the sixth book in that "trilogy.")

Eventually, Martin zeroes in on his least favorite thing in any story: Predictability. But he admits that it's "very hard" to shake up the audience, which has grown more sophisticated with every passing decade. When he was writing for the revived "Twilight Zone" in the '80s, for example, network executives wanted the producers to end episodes with a twist of some kind, as the original Rod Serling series had often done. But the audience "could see all these twist endings coming a mile away," Martin said.

He also spoke about his fascination with power and with hierarchies that appear stable but are actually anything but. He mentioned reading a history of Jerusalem in which a mad ruler began killing dozens of courtiers and ordering the hands chopped off the women of the court.

"Why doesn't the captain of the guard say to the sergeant, 'This guy is [expletive] nuts?'" Martin said. "'We have swords! Why don't we kill him instead?'"

But loyalties -- clan loyalties, family loyalties, strategic alliances -- are powerful influences in the lives of Martin's characters, and their personal desires and their traditional duties or roles are often in conflict. And those kinds of unresolvable dilemmas are at the heart of what makes his stories resonate with those of us who didn't begin fighting with swords as children.

Paraphrasing Faulkner, Martin said "the only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself." And that's a scenario that is very familiar to anyone who's ever visited Westeros, either as a reader or a viewer of the HBO drama.

Is A Song of Ice and Fire a parallelism or a criticism to our society?

No. My work is not an allegory to our days. If I wanted to write about the financial crisis or the conflict in Syria, I would write about the financial crisis or the conflict in Syria, without any metaphor. However, it’s true that in my novels appear several elements which we can find in world history. Things such as power, sex, pain… I have grown up as a science fiction reader, and it was my first love, even before fantasy. But science fiction, then, presented an idealistic world: the space, a bright future, but unluckily that optimism disappeared very quickly and the future wasn’t as good as we had expected. Nowadays, science fiction is very pessimistic and talks about dystopias: about a polluted world, about a rotten world… Of course I would prefer to be part of another world; a better world, but I can’t. Perhaps winter is not coming only to Winterfell, but in the real world.

March 2013

The readers are unhappy with leaving out the five-year gap?

Well no, some of the storylines from Feast for Crows. I get complaints sometimes that nothing happens — but they're defining "nothing," I think, differently than I am. I don't think it all has to battles and sword fights and assassinations. Character development and [people] changing is good, and there are some tough things in there that I think a lot of writers skip over. I'm glad I didn't skip over these things.

[For example], things that Arya is learning. The things Bran is learning. Learning is not inherently an interesting thing to write about. It's not an easy thing to write about. In the movies, they always handle it with a montage. Rocky can't run very fast. He can't catch the chicken. But then you do a montage, and you cut a lot of images together, and now only a minute later in the film, Rocky is really strong and he is catching the chicken.

It’s a lot harder [in real life]. Sometimes in my own life, I wish I could play a montage of my life. I want to get in shape now. So let’s do a montage, and boom — I'll be fifty pounds lighter and in good shape, and it will only take me a minute with some montage of me lifting weights and running, shoving away the steak and having a salad. But of course in real life, you don't get to montage. You have to go through it day by day.

And that has been interesting, you know. Jon Snow as Lord Commander. Dany as Queen, struggling with rule. So many books don't do that. There is a sense when you're writing something in high fantasy, you're in a dialogue with all the other high fantasy writers that have written. And there is always this presumption that if you are a good man, you will be a good king. [Like] Tolkien — in Return of the King, Aragorn comes back and becomes king, and then [we read that] "he ruled wisely for three hundred years." Okay, fine. It is easy to write that sentence, “He ruled wisely”.

What does that mean, he ruled wisely? What were his tax policies? What did he do when two lords were making war on each other? Or barbarians were coming in from the North? What was his immigration policy? What about equal rights for Orcs? I mean did he just pursue a genocidal policy, "Let’s kill all these fucking Orcs who are still left over"? Or did he try to redeem them? You never actually see the nitty-gritty of ruling.

I guess there is an element of fantasy readers that don't want to see that. I find that fascinating. Seeing someone like Dany actually trying to deal with the vestments of being a queen and getting factions and guilds and [managing the] economy. They burnt all the fields [in Meereen]. They've got nothing to import any more. They're not getting any money. I find this stuff interesting. And fortunately, enough of my readers who love the books do as well.

And meanwhile, you've got Daenerys visiting more Eurasian and Middle Eastern cultures.

And that has generated its controversy too. I answer that one to in my blog. I know some of the people who are coming at this from a political or racial angle just seem to completely disregard the logistics of the thing here. I talk about what's in the books. The books are what I write. What I’m responsible for.

Slavery in the ancient world, and slavery in the medieval world, was not race-based. You could lose a war if you were a Spartan, and if you lost a war you could end up a slave in Athens, or vice versa. You could get in debt, and wind up a slave. And that’s what I tried to depict, in my books, that kind of slavery.

So the people that Dany frees in the slaver cities are of many different ethnicities, and that’s been fairly explicit in the books. But of course when David [Benioff] and Dan [Weiss] and his crew are filming that scene [of Daenerys being carried by freed slaves], they are filming it in Morocco, and they put out a call for 800 extras. That’s a lot of extras. They hired the people who turned up. Extras don't get paid very much. I did an extra gig once, and got like $40 a day.

It's probably actually less in Morocco since you don't have to pay quite the same rate. If you're giving 800 Moroccans 40 bucks each, you're not going to fly in 100 Irishman just to balance the racial background here. We had enough trouble meeting our budget anyway.

I know for some readers, they don’t care about this shit. But these things are about budget and realism, and things you can actually do. You are shooting the scene in a day. You don't have a lot of time to [worry] about that, and as someone who has worked in television this kind of stuff is very important to me. I don't know if that is answer or not. I made that answer, and some people weren't pleased with that answer, I know. They are very upset about that.

August 2013

Amid reports of a dramatic uptrend in babies named “Khaleesi” and tourism to Dubrovnik, Croatia (aka King's Landing), we're guessing George R. R. Martin doesn’t need much of an introduction.

AC: How do you decide what you're going to work on, whose voice you're going to work in today?

GM: Well, I don't write the chapters in the order in which you read them. I get into a character’s voice. It's always difficult to switch gears, actually. When I do make that transition from one character to another, I usually struggle for a few days trying to get back the voice of the character I'm just returning to after some hiatus. But once I get into it, I tend to write not just one chapter by that character, but three or four. So I'll be writing Jon Snow chapters, and I'll carry that Jon Snow sequence as far as I can. And then at some point, maybe I'll get stuck or not be sure what I should do next, or maybe I've just gotten way ahead of all of the other characters in the books, so I need to sort of rein myself in and make myself switch from Jon Snow to Sansa or Daenerys or somebody like that.

November 2013

We can't leave Martin without pressing him for his thoughts on which of his characters keeps the best table. Would it be the wealthy, sun-loving Martell family with their Mediterranean-leaning flatbreads, olives and spiced snake? The sensualist Tyrion Lannister? Or the moveable feast of the court of Daenerys Targaryen with its duck eggs and dog sausage?

"Oh, Illyrio Mopatis, the magister, no question. Just watch out for the mushrooms."

March 2014

Was it a big shift for you, when you were writing the scenes that take place at Winterfell and suddenly you have the Daenerys scene, with an entirely different location?

Pretty early on, in the summer of ‘91, I had the Daenerys stuff. I knew she was on another continent. I think I had already drawn a map by then – and she wasn’t on it. I’d just drawn the map of the one continent that would come to be called Westeros. But she was in exile, and I knew that, and that was sort of the one departure from the structure. It’s something I borrowed from Tolkien, in terms of the initial structure of the book. If you look at Lord of the Rings, everything begins in the Shire with Bilbo’s birthday party. You have a very small focus. You have a map of the Shire right in the beginning of the book – you think it’s the entire world. And then they get outside it. They cross the Shire, which seems epic in itself. And then the world keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger. And then they add more and more characters, and then those characters split up. I essentially looked at the master there and adopted the same structure. Everything in AGame of Thrones begins in Winterfell. Everybody is together there and then you meet more people and, ultimately, they’re split apart and they go in different directions. But the one departure from that, right from the first, was Daenerys, who was always separate. It’s almost as if Tolkien, in addition to having Bilbo, had thrown in an occasional Faramir chapter, right from the beginning of the book.

Although Daenerys is hooked into Winterfell, because we hear talk of her family, the Targaryen family, early on.

You see overlaps. Daenerys is getting married, and Robert gets the report that Daenerys has just gotten married and reacts to that and the threat that it poses.

Fortunately, the books were best sellers, I didn’t need the money, you know, so I could just say no. Other people wanted to take the approach of, there are so many characters, so many stories, we have to settle on one. Let’s make it all about Jon Snow. Or Dany. Or Tyrion. Or Bran. But that didn’t work, either, because the stories are all inter-related. They separate but they come together again. But it did get me thinking about it, and it got me thinking about how this could be done, and the answer I came up with is – it can be done for television. It can’t be done as a feature film or a series of feature films. So television. But not network television. I’d worked in television. The Twilight Zone. Beauty and the Beast. I knew what was in these books, the sex scenes, the violence, the beheadings, the massacres. They’re not going to put that on Friday night at eight o’clock, where they always stick fantasies. Both of the shows that I was on, Twilight Zone and Beauty and the Beast, Friday night at eight o’clock. They think, "Fantasy? Kids!" So I wasn’t going to do a network show. But I’d been watching HBO. The Sopranos. Rome. Deadwood. It seemed to me an HBO show, a series where each book was an entire season, was the way to do it. So when I sat down with David and Dan at that meeting at the Palm, which started out as a lunch meeting and turned into a dinner meeting, and they said the same thing, then I suddenly knew we’re on the same wavelength here.

June 2014

Q: What can you tell us about a warg dragon rider?

A: There is no history/precedent for someone warging a dragon. There is a rich history of the mythical bond between dragon and rider. There have been instances of dragons responding to their riders even from very far away (hmm) which shows it is a true and very strong bond. We will learn more about this. Keep reading (we hear “keep writing” from the back of the room).

Q: What is your favorite line in ASOIAF?

A: I can’t single out one line but my favorite passage is Septon Meribald’s speech about war in… what was it? (crowd yells out Feast for Crows).

November 2014

For people who are not familiar with your work, the series takes place in an imaginary world. There is a struggle for control of the kingdom. This dynastic war is essentially one of three main plot lines. There are the other plot lines involving these sort of superhuman characters, and then there’s the exiled Targaryen daughter who seeks the return of her ancient throne. Why those three main plot lines?

Well, of course, the two outlying ones — the things going on north of the Wall, and then there is Targaryen on the other continent with her dragons — are of course the ice and fire of the title, “A Song of Ice and Fire.” The central stuff — the stuff that’s happening in the middle, in King’s Landing, the capital of the seven kingdoms — is much more based on historical events, historical fiction.

Pop culture has grabbed “Game of Thrones.” It’s been featured in “The Simpsons” and “South Park.” What goes through your mind when you see these references?

Well, I think it’s tremendously cool, of course. It’s nice to be doing something that everybody is so aware of and that has entered the cultural zeitgeist in that manner. The only aspect of it that really astonishes me is not that the characters and the story is being parodied or referenced in these various places but the extent at which I personally am. I mean, when I see myself as a character on “South Park” or I see Bobby Moynihan imitating me with the suspenders and the hat on “Saturday Night Live,” when I see companies selling Halloween costumes, not Halloween costumes to be Jon Snow or Daenerys but Halloween costumes to be me, that’s pretty freaky. That’s something I could never have anticipated, and I just don’t know what to think of it.

May 2015

Still, it’s only natural that there’s a few characters Martin would have liked to have seen on the show that did not make it in.

“Strong Belwas, who was part of Dany’s entourage,” Martin said. “I understand why he was cut, but I kind of miss him.” In the books, the massive eunuch warrior is a former pit fighter who joins Dany in Qarth. Belwas’ story elements have essentially been combined with the character of Daario, who is arguably more essential to Dany’s journey.

June 2015

I explained that in my own head, Yandel is in King's Landing, clutching his book, showing up each day for an audience with the king... and each day being told perhaps the next day. Except on those occasions where, you know, they tell him the king's getting married today, and then whoops, Joffrey is dead, etc.

I also noted that of course, given how he wrote about the reign of Aerys and and the rebellion, that if Aegon or Daenerys take King's Landing he may indeed end up having his head chopped off... George seemed interested in the idea, I think. :P

May 2016

4. GRRM and Picacio both made the joke about "you need to pay the artist" and such regarding general fan fiction. And then GRRM said he has issued some sub-licenses to things like art and games, etc. GRRM also mentioned that HBO owns the rights to the exact likenesses of the tv version of the story, meaning, no art can be made where Dany looks like Emilia. He was very careful in avoiding a real link in feeling between him and HBO even though he was asked about it twice. Then GRRM mentioned, and Picacio joined in, how GRRM knew the show would overtake the books. Not too much new.

Reactions after the episode

c. Dany on Drogon seemed random and a repeat of previous seasons.

d. Others loved Dany on Drogon.

December 2016

And the most revealing: he said that for Winds, Winter is the darkest time 'where things die' and many characters will go dark places.

At last I was able to ask him the question I had sent for the tombola. I have always been fascinated by how ASOIAF embodies the theories put forward by Acemoglu and Robinson about countries with extractive institutions (which hamper development). So my question was: Why do you think the political institutions in the Seven Kingdoms are so weak? His answer: the Kingdom was unified with dragons, so the Targaryen's flaw was to create an absolute monarchy highly dependent on them, with the small council not designed to be a real check and balance. So, without dragons it took a sneeze, a wildly incompetent and megalomaniac king, a love struck prince, a brutal civil war, a dissolute king that didn't really know what to do with the throne and then chaos. Interesting answer.

July 2017

To a certain degree, also, it’s so intertwined, tragically and unfortunately, with the character histories. Daenerys doesn’t get to where she is unless she’s sold as a child bride, effectively a slave.

And I should point out, and you probably know this if you’ve read the books and watched the show, Daenerys’ wedding night is quite different than it was portrayed in the books. Again, indeed, we had an original pilot where the part of Daenerys was recast, and what we filmed the first time, when Tamzin Merchant was playing the role, it was much more true to the books. It was the scene as written in the books. So that got changed between the original pilot and the later pilot. You’d have to talk to David and Dan about that.

I had all these meetings saying, “There’s too many characters, it’s too big — Jon Snow is the central character. We’ll eliminate all the other characters and we’ll make it about Jon Snow.” Or “Daenerys is the central character. We’ll eliminate everyone else and make the movie about Daenerys.” And I turned down all those deals.

When you’re walking down the street in Santa Fe, do new character or historical details just pop into your head?

Sometimes it happens to me on long-distance drives. When I was younger I loved to take road trips, and get in the car and drive for two days to get to L.A. or Kansas City or St. Louis or Texas. And on the road, I would think a lot about that. In 1993, I think it was, I visited France for the first time. I had begunGame of Thrones two years before in ‘91 and I had to put it aside because television was happening. And for some reason, I had rented a car, I was driving all around Brittany and the roads of France to these little medieval villages and I was seeing castles, and somehow that just got me going again. I was thinking about Tyrion and Jon Snow and Daenerys and my head was full of Game of Thrones stuff.

You’re in unusual territory, with your characters very much still in your hands but also out in the world being interpreted for TV. Are you able to have walls in your mind such that your Daenerys, say, is your Daenerys, and Emilia Clarke’s Daenerys is hers and the show’s?

I’ve arrived at that point. The walls are up in my mind. I don’t know that I was necessarily there from the beginning. At some points, when David and Dan and I had discussions about what way we should go in, I would always favor sticking with the books, while they would favor making changes. I think one of the biggest ones would probably be when they made the decision not to bring Catelyn Stark back as Lady Stoneheart. That was probably the first major diversion of the show from the books and, you know, I argued against that, and David and Dan made that decision.

In my version of the story, Catelyn Stark is re-imbued with a kind of life and becomes this vengeful wight who galvanizes a group of people around her and is trying to exact her revenge on the riverlands. David and Dan made a decision not to go in that direction in their story, pursuing other threads. But both of them are equally valid, I think, because Catelyn Stark is a fictional character and she doesn’t exist. You can tell either story about her.

Is there anything we didn’t get to talk about?

I suppose there are issues we could have explored more with the whole question of sexual violence and women — it’s a complicated and fraught issue. To re-address that point a little, I do a lot of book signings, and I think I have probably more women readers than male readers right now. Only slightly, but it’s probably 55 percent, 45 percent, but I see women readers at things and they love my women characters. I’m very proud of the creation of Arya and Catelyn and Sansa and Brienne and Daenerys and Cersei and all of them. It’s one of the things that gives me the most satisfaction, that they’ve been so well-received as characters, especially by women readers who are often not served.

August 2017

- My question about Daenerys was chosen as the third question (I was lucky!) but he refused to answer it lol … I asked “How old was Daenerys when she left the house with the red door, and was it located close to the palace of the Sealord of Braavos?” (thanks Butterfly for suggesting it to me) I don’t know why he refused to answer about her age, but about the house with the red door he said there will be more revelations about it in future books.

- He was asked to comment about the differences between the book and show characters, particularly Daenerys. GRRM ignored all the other characters and talked only about Daenerys - he said that the show one is older because there are laws in USA that prevent minors from having sex scenes so the decision was made to age Daenerys. Otherwise, book Daenerys and show Daenerys “are very similar” and “Emilia Clarke did a fantastic job”. (I guess he can’t really say negative things about the show, can he?)

- “Will Jorah ever get out of the friendzone?” (side-eyeing the person who asked this). GRRM: “I would not bet on it.”

August 2018

Q: if you did have a child what would you name him or her?

A: “I don’t know... probably Not Daenerys”

November 2018

“I have tried to make it explicit in the novels that the dragons are destructive forces, and Dany (Daenerys Targaryen) has found that out as she tried to rule the city of Meereen and be queen there.

“She has the power to destroy, she can wipe out entire cities, and we certainly see that in Fire and Blood, we see the dragons wiping out entire armies, wiping out towns and cities, destroying them, but that doesn’t necessarily enable you to rule — it just enables you to destroy.”

[...] “If you read Fire and Blood, you’ll know there’s definitely a bond between the dragons and their riders and the dragons will not accept just any rider,” says Martin. “Some people try to take a dragon wind up being eaten or burned to death instead, so the dragons are terribly fussy about who rides them.”

[...] The prince defeated the threat in the North by driving his sword through his wife’s heart. Will Jon have to do the same to Daenerys? Or is she the prince, Azor Ahai, reborn? Martin suggests all may not be as it seems.

“The Targaryens have certain gifts and yes, taking the dragons and dragon riding and dragon breeding was one of them,” he says. “But the other gift was an occasional Targaryen had prophetic powers and could see glimpses of the future, which they didn’t always necessarily properly interpret because, you know, they were fragmentary and sometimes symbolic.

“But to what extent did they share those gifts, what did he see, what prompted him to do all this? These are things I find really interesting to ponder.

What was interesting from The Guardian interview you did, is this book — as daunting as it would seem for most authors to attempt, and as tough as Winds has been for you — this was curiously easy for you to write. Yes. Partly because it’s linear. Although it covers 150 years or so, it’s very straightforward — here’s what happened in the year 30, here’s what happened in 25. In Winds, I have like 10 different novels and I’m juggling the timeline — here’s what’s happening to Tyrion, here’s what’s happening to Dany, and how they intersect. That’s far more complicated.

August 2019

On the fame thing, does it ever feel surreal to stop and think about the reach that your work has had? I mean, couples meet through Game of Thrones, there are Thrones-themed wedding ceremonies, and babies are named after your characters. Is that something you ever dwell on and think to yourself 'God, my work has had this massive effect on people?'

It's very gratifying when you get letters, emails, and hear stories like that. They definitely do name children after my characters and send me pictures of their babies.

People also name their dogs, cats, iguanas, after my characters. Sometimes, it’s a little surreal. I often wonder about all the young Daenerys’ out there because kindergarten teachers will hate me because they have to spell it!

#daenerys targaryen #resources #grrm #valyrianscrolls

90 notes · View notes