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ladyaryawolf · 8 months

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/48588427/chapters/122561371

have you read this fic written by an "arya fan"? is it trult book accurate that everyone find arya ugly and calls her horseface or is just sansa and jeyne the only ones that called her that?

Favorite crack ship: Arya/Ramsay.

You can stop here. It wasnt written by an "Arya Fan" just by this statement.

Anyway. Maybe it was a neutral. Idk, neither do I wish to know.

Now answering your question: does everyone finds arya ugly or horseface, or was it only Sansa and Jeyne?

The answer is: No. Not everyone found Arya ugly, but she was a child that didnt behaeve like a Lady and "was always dirty".

Even in Theon POV as Reek he reminds of Sansa calling her horseface, he himself didnt call her that as far as we know of.

Bran never called her that way.

Robb never called her that way.

We dont know much about how communers treated Arya on Winterfell, but since even Sansa said she could be friend with anyone, the fact that Arya used to sit alongside lords to hear stories, and how she was known as "Arya Underfoot" I really doubt people would just look at her and call her ugly/horseface.

Again, most part of this view of Arya being ugly comes from her own pov, due the experience she had with her Sister and Jeyne that impacted really hard on her self-steem. And the other part of this statement comes from Sansa that we have to agree, really doesnt like neither does care with Arya very much.

Out of Jeyne and Sansa, or um-hum, Septa Mordane, we have Gendry saying she is pretty, Lady Smallwood saying she is pretty, the Kindly Man says she has a pretty face and presented her the option to actually become a courtesan (and the fact that Braavosi Courtesans are known world wide for their beauty) instead of an assassin.

By Arya's pov on Mercy and even as Cat of the Canals, it seems like the sailors find her attractive. (What is gross if you ask me. She is 11, but, heh. Thats ASoIaF for ya).

Anyway, dude. Here you go.

I wont be separating quotes, links. This is not a meta. If you search even on my blog for Arya countent you'll find out a lot of metas I reblogged. If you go searching for another blogs like @queenaryastark @aryaarianne @circe1fanatic @aryastarksource @aryaofoldstones you will find better insights as well.

Im not into the fandom that much anymore for like, two years?

Hope my opinion helped you.

Have a nice day.

#ask #juli has mail

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aryaarianne · 4 years

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ALMOST OLD FRIENDS - Arya Stark and Daenerys Stormborn

Part 2/? of A SONG OF WOMEN AND WOMEN, a personal project to celebrate every potential wlw ship I can dream of with a moodboard and mini-fic

She first assumes, when Grey Worm announces to her the arrival of a woman named Stark at their gates, that they're being graced by the unceremonious presence of Tyrion's wife.

"I thought that she was still under Baelish's protection, in the Vale?" She gives a pointed look to Aegon's advisor, privately enjoying the confusion which so rarely graced his features.

"The Lady we know to be Sansa Stark is indeed in the Eyrie," Varys notes, raising a brow at the Unsullied leader, who blinks, unaffected by his gaze. "We would have gotten word otherwise, I'm certain."

"The lady does not go by that name," Grey Worm says, frowning. "She asked that we refer to her by the name of Arya."

"Arya Stark?"

Daenerys forgets, if just for a moment, about politics and war, overcome as she is by fervant curiosity for a character that could elicit a look of such surprise from Varys and Tyrion both before she'd even stepped into the room. The excitement is quickly supplanted by exasperation.

She has the remaining Stark kin memorized by now: the bastard reanimated, Tyrion's Tully-faced wife, the heir to the North, the babe who adopted the wildings. Yet for all that the old men with whom she conspires have impressed upon her the power of the Northern house and the importance of keeping track of its members' movements, they failed to mention a she-wolf lurking so close in Essos.

She knew, of course, of the false daughter of Winterfell and the skewering of Ramsay Bolton, had been informed the moment that Varys's trusty little birds had caught wind of it. But after the poor Poole girl's true identity had been revealed to the realm, Daenerys had been assured that, with no other sighting of the dark-haired girl reported since her father's execution, Arya Stark was certainly dead. In all likelihood, the Lannisters had never possessed the girl in the first place. After all, how could a tiny little girl survive the wrath of King's Landing, let alone the wild of the lands beyond, and all with the help of no one?

How stricken her councilmen look as that little ghost they'd so easily forgotten has the audacity to arrive at their court a woman grown, wrapped in Braavosi threads like a second skin, requesting an audience with the Dragon Queen Daenerys who intends to cross the Narrow Sea. Seeing the Northern-born woman stand so alone, so alive amidst her awestruck advisors, that same queen supposes she should have known better than to listen when old men make assumptions about what tiny little girls are capable of.

She is a slip of a creature, with a long wolfish face and a moonlike complexion, speckled with a small number of freckles along her arms and neck. The shifting of her Braavosi garments as she steps into the room betrays the lithe hardness in her limbs, and Daenerys can only assume the rest of her flesh to match. Far too tough and thin for the taste of a court, perhaps, but as an urchin, as a thief, as an assassin, she is both lethal and lovely.

Arya curtsies as well as her Braavosi breeches alllow, a brow quirked as her lip twitches. "Your Grace. Thank you for admitting me to your presence."

"It is I who is grateful to you, Princess Arya," Daenerys straightens, poised and refined, barely resisting the urge to tug at the fabric of her own dress. "Any of my men would tell you how curious I've been to hear from the lost she-wolf of Winterfell."

"Not lost, your Grace," she murmurs, straightening up, the glitter in her eyes betraying their stern gray coloring. The color is so striking and cold against the Essos palette of sun, sand, and silk, like storm clouds raging beneath her brow. "Not anymore."

"A sentiment I can appreciate." Daenerys has to look away, sucking in a silent breath. "We have both been deprived of our birthright for far, far too many years." She hesitates to continue, the woman before her still such a spectacle, such an unknown. "Our kin, they share a long and complicated history together."

"Your Grace," Arya interrupts, and immediately grimaces, before shaking her head. "Your Grace, I have been called many names. I have been many things. Prisoner, servant, assassin." She smiles faintly. "Lady."

"Princess of the North," Aegon offers. Daenerys had almost forgotten there were others in the room, but Arya pays him no heed.

"Before all of that, and through it all, I am a Stark." Arya's fingers gently caress the hilt at her hip, the skinny little blade poking beneath her skirt. "But it was not a dragon who killed my brother, my mother, my father." Her eyes glint, sliding to one of her companions quick, but long enough to make a point. "It was a lion."

Tyrion opens his mouth, a clever response no doubt on his tongue, but slowly exhales a bitter sigh instead, lifting his hand briefly as if the entire matter was out of his hands.

"I came here to support your claim to the Iron Throne. I cannot, I'm afraid, speak for the North. It is my brother's stead, and I am but one woman. But give me your word that you will slay the Lannister queen and I would be yours." Arya unsheathes her swords, and pulls a dagger from her boot as well, lying the blades at her feet. "It was a lion who killed our fathers both. It is a lion who sits on your throne and sat a terror at my family's table. It is she who would stand between me and my home."

There is a moment of quiet as they gaze at one another, an exiled queen and a refugee princess, and as she looks, Daenerys sees herself, her anger, her hope and all the more in the wolf woman's face. She wonders what Arya Stark sees looking into hers.

"No longer, Princess," Daenerys murmurs, then louder, "I swear to you here and now. I would give you your home if you would give me mine."

Her council explodes into whispers, but Arya nods, lips parted and eyes fixed, until Ser Barristan breaks away from the men and draws her attention. After Daenerys has convinced everyone of the wisdom in her decision, she calls Arya forward and they begin to discuss the terms of their alliance. It should be so much more difficult, brokering peace between wolf and dragon, but there is little they disagree on and nothing that they have not decided by the falling of the sun. When all that could be said has been said, Arya pleads to be excused to bathe and to change.

"It would not do to continue in such a state into the night with the future Queen of Westeros." Her hair is a thing of the woods at night, dark brown and toussled unkempt. She rakes her claws through it every so often. "Your Southron nobles would never."

"The rules of such nobility, in my experience, is not so important, other than for the love of its practice. I will concern myself with the people of Westeros first, and I have heard they are already quite fond enough of you." The Targaryen queen is suddenly caught between the impulse to snatch her fingers for herself or to curl a fist in those tangles and yank. She does neither, simply pinning up a smile when the brunette's eyes catch her in the midst of staring. "Fond enough to wage war."

Arya does not return the favor, but her stormy eyes linger atop Daenerys's mouth before her tongue darts out to wet her own. "A sentiment I, too, can appreciate."

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hewantshisbrideback · 4 years

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Ah, I was tagged in this so long ago I'm so sorry @darksister8 !! It's been crazy now I'm back at work, tysm for the tag ❤

SIX SHIPS:

Jon Snow and Arya Stark (and all threesomes with Daenerys, Gendry, Val, Ned Dayne, Aegon etc.) because she's his heart and he's her home

Enjolras and Grantaire from Les Miserables because they chose to die together holding hands

Jonathan Simms and Martin Blackwood from The Magnus Archives because of all the pining, protecting, jealousy, and teasing, plus eldritch horrors

Sook-hee and Lady Hideko from The Handmaiden because of lines like "My savior, who came to ruin my life. My Tamako. My Sook-hee."

Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle because they're fascinating in au fics like The Law of Complementary Colors and Great Minds

Arrash Sayyad and Stefan Kowalski from New Blood because I'm a sucker for their dynamic but also because Ben Tavassoli is mortifyingly attractive

Last Song I Listened To: Tangerine by the Glass Animals

Last Movie I Watched: Repo the Genetic Opera, for Halloween

Currently Watching: Nothing, but I want to go back and finish Russian Doll

Currently Eating: Scrambled eggs

Currently Craving: Some free time to make edits and write fic. Also, a glass of water

Tagging: @mysticalmuddle because ily you're so nice and talented and I'm going to answer you/work on Hadestown eventually I swear jdjdhdhs also @meseob @aryaarianne @jondrya @aryaofoldstones @jackoshadows @ashotofjac @silverwoodj as well as anyone who follows me!

#hewantshisposts #hewantshispersonal #hewantshistagmeme #everyone i tagged is so far out of my league as a creator its crazy but im just vibin lmao #i Know i didnt have to explain my ships i just like talking tysm for the enabling ❤

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